Free Cries in the Night by Kathy Clark Page A

a house that had been decorated and loved at one time by a woman. The missing wife, no doubt.
    Photographs were everywhere, hanging on the walls, arranged on the mantle and sitting on the furniture. Most of them were of a smiling dark-haired woman who wasn’t beautiful, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that made her appealing. The man was with her in several of the photos, holding her hand or giving her a kiss. They appeared to be a happy couple in love. Rusty could see why the man was so upset that he had lost that connection.
    Odd that he hadn’t taken down all her photos and stuck them in a drawer or a box in the back of the closet. That’s what most broken-hearted lovers did when the romance was over. Rusty wondered how long she had been gone. Maybe the police would be able to track her down and get her to talk her husband out of blowing them off the face of the earth. Rusty was sure that his brother, Sam, would be following every lead he could find. Actually, if one of them had to be in here and one out there, it was better that it was Sam on the outside. He would know how to handle the situation. Rusty was just the crazy brother who ran into burning buildings.
    All the lights were on in the house, probably so the man could keep an eye on things while preparing to blow up half of Denver. He had a TV turned on and was enjoying his fifteen minutes of fame. It was also providing him with a constant update on what was going on outside. If he got out of this alive, Rusty vowed to talk to the local TV stations about their very detailed reporting and how it provided too much information to the bad guys while the crime was in progress.
    The TV was angled away from the two firefighters, so they couldn’t get a good view, but they could see that quite a crowd had gathered. Rusty’s heart ached when he saw his mother’s pale, drawn face, but he felt surprisingly better when he saw Julie standing next to her with an arm around his mother’s shoulders. He also saw his brother Sam in a circle of other cops as they stood in front of the huge RV-like vehicle that was the Mobile Command Unit in situations such as this. He knew they were going through all the scenarios and would choose the one they thought was best. Soon, he hoped.
    Even though the temperature in the room was cool, Rusty and Jason were sweltering inside their heavy gear. All the things that provided protection against the flames were acting like a portable sauna. They would both probably be pounds lighter when … or if … they walked away from this. The man was growing more restless and probably more unstable by the moment.
    The FD provided continuing education and Rusty remembered one on conflict negotiation. He wished now he’d paid a little more attention, but he had honestly never thought he’d have to use it. Everyone liked firefighters. They saved lives and rescued kittens from trees. Although, to be perfectly honest, he’d never actually retrieved a kitten from anything. He’d pulled a raccoon out of a gutter once, but he didn’t think that would impress this guy much.
    Befriend him. He remembered hearing that somewhere. It was certainly worth a try.
    “I’m Rusty and this kid is Jason. Since we’re all in this together, what should we call you?”
    “We’re not ever going to be drinking buds,” the man snorted. He was silent for a moment as if considering how much information was safe to share. “But I guess if we’re going to blow up together, you should know who’s lighting the fuse.”
    “That’s a colorful image that I could have lived without,” Jason murmured and Rusty jabbed him with his elbow.
    The man didn’t seem to have noticed. “My name is Joe. Just Joe. That’s all you need to know.”
    “So, Joe. What sort of work did you do?”
    “Why? You gonna offer me a job?”
    Rusty could see this was going down a dark path, so he changed the subject. “Why Mexico?”
    “Because it never friggin’ snows there,” Joe