Free When Lightning Strikes Twice by Barbara Boswell Page A

she was touched by the trust implicit in his toddler command. That she would take care of him. That he was safe with her.
    She would, and he was.
    Rachel carried Brady up the street, winding her way through the spectators, talking to him about the things around them. The trees, the flowers. A baby in a stroller. A cat sitting in the front window of a house. She was careful not to mention the fire or anything to do with it.
    And then they came upon her car, parked along the curb just a few yards away. “That’s my car,” she told him, pointing at it.
    The window was rolled down and she could see her keys dangling in the ignition. It wasn’t until then that it occurred to her how completely shaken the young policeman had been by Carla Cormack’s ambulance antics. One of Lakeview PD’s own officers had unwittingly extended an invitation to a potential car thief by leaving her car unlocked with the key handily available. Rachel imagined how ridiculous that particular stolen car report would read and murmured a silent thanks there was none to file.
    Explaining her own willingness to simply hand over her car while she traipsed after Quinton Cormack wouldn’t have been easy either. She pictured Aunt Eve’s bemused expression and Wade’s droll one as she attempted to justify her uncharacteristic impulsivity to them. Thank heavens, no explanations or justifications were necessary to anyone!
    Except herself, perhaps? Rachel blocked that thought.
    “Blue car,” Brady said knowingly, as they reached her car.
    “That’s right, Brady. My car is blue.” Rachel was impressed. He was only two and he already knew his colors? Her niece was three and still struggled with them.
    “Ride in blue car?” Brady suggested.
    Rachel stared at the grim scene down the street, which would probably become far worse. Sarah was right, a fire was no place for a two-year-old. Little Brady didn’t belong here, where he might see or hear something horrible that could traumatize him for life.
    “I don’t have a car seat for you but I could buckle you up in the back.” She wasn’t sure if she was talking to Brady or speaking her thoughts aloud. “That would be safe if we drove someplace close for lunch, wouldn’t it?”
    “Lunch!” exclaimed Brady, his face wreathed in ecstasty.
    She couldn’t disappoint him now! Rachel glanced at her watch. It was past noon and the child was hungry. There really could be no harm in taking him to lunch.
    “Okay, Brady, let’s have lunch.”

4
    “H ey, Sheely, it’s Thursday. You know what that means, Happy Hour at Riggin’s, two beers for the price of one. Meet you there at five-thirty?” Wade Saxon phoned to extend his usual weekly invitation to Dana Sheely.
    “I can’t meet you there, Saxon.” Dana glanced at her watch. It was four-fifteen, rather early for Wade to be calling. Over an hour’s notice? He seldom made plans this far in advance. “Sorry.”
    “So am I.” Wade heaved a resigned sigh. “Which one of your sibling pests borrowed your car this time?”
    “Brendan, and he’s not a pest. He has football practice after school and a new girlfriend who needs a ride home from cheerleading practice.” Dana smiled. “A guy
has
to have wheels, y’know.”
    “A direct quote from Brendan, no doubt, that weasely little moocher. Okay, I’ll pick you up at five-fifteen, Sheely.” He sounded vaguely martyred.
    “And I didn’t even have to ask.” Dana chuckled. “You’re a real pal, Sax.”
    “Don’t I know it. Be on time, Sheely. I don’t want to hang around that hellhole you call an office. It’s like being trapped in an erupting volcano every time a train goes by.”
    “Why not try to see things from a different angle, Saxon? Every time a train goes by I pretend I’m on a thrill ride at Disney World. People pay those big park entrancefees to experience what I can enjoy for free, twice an hour.”
    “There’s that scary Sheely optimism rearing its nasty head again.” Wade