Free Wildfire by Mina Khan

wheezed out of him. “I ain’t crazy or drunk.”
    “So you were at the dumpster in the middle of the night.”
    The man moved his head in a slow shake. “It was morning, I
was hunting breakfast.”
    “And you found the boots?”
    “How about one of those smokes?”
    Roberts tossed him the entire pack. “Tell me about the
boots.”
    The man turned the pack around in his hands. “Thanks
Sheriff.”
    “The boots?”
    “A beat-up green truck drove up and a man chucked them out
the window. I grabbed them.”
    “You see the man’s face?”
    The cigarette pack disappeared in the coat. “Nah, he wore a
hat pulled low over his face.”
    Roberts massaged his neck and nodded. “I’ll need the other
boot.”
    “Fuck.”

Chapter 7
     

Lynn basked in the early morning sun streaming through the bedroom window
while she balanced on one leg, eyes closed, and pretended to be a tree.
    She focused on her breathing, trying to follow Obaa-chan’s advice and calm her mind. A calm mind can conquer anything. Now if she could
just convince herself.
    The weird phone call and writing about the fire had riled up
the dragon again, so much that she’d felt the heat and smelled the smoke
sitting in Jen’s guest room. In the quiet hours of the night, fear of the
unknown adversary had clutched her heart until she’d concentrated on Timmy’s
face as he watched the fire.
    She’d started the article with that image and gone into how
Timmy would be having a birthday soon without any presents. However, he would
have his family and Lucky. She wrote about the hard work and heroics of the
Paradise Valley volunteer firefighters, and mentioned Jack and the part he
played. She ended with the community pulling together to help the Jarvis
family. Lynn read the story almost half a dozen times before emailing it to the Herald . That’d been almost a half-hour ago.
    She hoped the paper would print the story. Should she follow
up with a call to the paper?
    Calm your mind. Be in the now. Her arms reached toward the
sun like strong branches, allowing her sorrows and worries to drop, spin and
flutter away like dead leaves scattered by the wind of her will.
    Exuberant knocking startled Lynn into planting both feet on
the meditation mat. Her aching arms sagged to her sides. “Yes?”
    “Phone call for you,” Jen called out.
    Damn, she was popular lately. “Can you take a message?”
    “It’s the editor of the newspaper, I think you better take
it.”
    Lynn threw the door open and snatched the phone from Jen.
“Hello?”
    “Top of the morning, Ms. Alexander! This is Scott Hernandez,
editor and publisher of the San Angelo Herald .”
    Worry niggled at her. “Did you receive my story? Were you
able to open the document?”
    “Yes, yes. I read your story about the fire.”
    He probably hated it. She hadn’t written a news story since
college. “I’d be happy to rewrite it if you need me to.”
    A chuckle sounded in her ear. “Hey, can you come down to the
office and talk to my reporters about accommodating their editor?” He chuckled
some more. “The story read fine. It’ll be in the paper tomorrow.”
    Heat swarmed her face. “Oh. Thanks for letting me know.”
    “What I’d like to know is if you’re free for lunch today?” Hernandez
cleared his throat. “I have a deal you want to seal.”
     
    A woman on a mission, Lynn arrived at the San Angelo
Herald building fifteen minutes before her lunch date.
    While the editor had amused and intrigued her, what she
really wanted was information. If anyone had the dirt on the local people, it’d
be the newspaper guy. The challenge would be focusing him on her agenda rather
than his.
    The receptionist laid aside her crochet work and smiled as
Lynn stated her business, and then buzzed the editor. “Your lunch appointment
is here!”
    Lynn had just sat down on the plush couch, when the newsroom
door swung open and a big man bounded out, his right hand extended. “Good to
see you Ms.