For the tenth time, she lifted a silent prayer that Danny would be okay.
Clint listened intently for several moments before relaying what Leslie had said about the man in the warehouse. “I agree. Having someone posted outside Bracken’s room once he’s out of surgery would be a good idea.” He glanced at Leslie, but his expression was unreadable. “Understood. I’ll call once we get an update.”
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and sat down on the chair next to hers. “That was a detective I work with. The fire’s out, although it’ll be a while before the inspector can go in and officially determine what started it.”
There was something in his voice that told Leslie there was more to the story. They always had to have an official investigation done when it came to fires, especially if insurance was involved. Often, though, the cause of the fire was obvious. “But Holden or Warrenhad a guess.”
Clint nodded once. “Kerosene was used as an accelerant.”
“There’d be no need for kerosene in a warehouse like that. Especially one that’s specifically storing paper.”
“Exactly. The inspector will check into it further as soon as it’s safe to do so. In the meantime, there are security cameras for that warehouse as well as other warehouses in the same vicinity. We’ll be combing through the footage to see if we can catch a glimpse of the arsonist. And the shooter, assuming they’re two different individuals.”
Nausea swirled in Leslie’s stomach. “Which means he hasn’t been caught yet.”
“There’s been no sign of him. We’re searching the warehouse, but it’s expansive, with aisles of boxes filled with paper waiting for distribution. There are countless places to hide. He also could’ve slipped out in the chaos before additional units even arrived.”
A nightmare. This whole thing was a complete nightmare.
What if Danny didn’t make it? What if the shooter got away with this? The idea that he could just be out there somewhere made Leslie nervous. She homed in on what Clint said regarding someone being posted outside Danny’s room.
“Do you think someone might come here to hurt Danny?”
Clint studied her face for a moment. “Honestly? I don’t know. But we’d rather take precautions. The truth is, there’s more to the situation than we know right now. If you and Bracken had stumbled on some kind of crime in progress, then our suspect wouldn’t have been wearing firefighter gear. Whatever was going on, it was thought out. Planned way in advance.”
“Which means there was probably an escape route planned, too.”
“Agreed. Even if the person who shot Bracken was responsible for setting the warehouse fire in the first place, wearing the gear suggests he had no intention of dying in there.”
Leslie was in desperate need of some caffeine. Something to give her a little jolt of energy and maybe… just maybe… clear her head. But she didn’t see any in the immediate vicinity, and she didn’t want to leave if Becca arrived or the doctor came out with an update. “There are way too many possibilities. Too many unknowns.”
“Agreed. I think Detective Paris is taking the case. We’ll systematically go through everything and see if we can piece together what happened. For now, we’ll wait for word on Bracken. Hopefully, the doctor will be able to recover the bullet, which we can run through ballistics and look for a match.”
“Right. We wait.” She hated waiting. Didn’t everybody, though? Was Clint going to stay with her? The way he worded it made it sound like he was.
Now that the fire was out, other members of their company would be arriving at the hospital as soon as they could. Until then, the last thing she wanted was to sit alone. It was too easy to let her thoughts wander. To think of all the what-ifs. Or the things she might have done to change the outcome.
“Can I get you something to drink? Or eat?”
Clint’s concerned voice broke through her thoughts.
“What? Oh.” She glanced at the nurses’ station where everything was just as it had been minutes earlier. “Yeah. I need something caffeinated. Coffee.Or a Coke.”
“I’ll be right back.” He stood, lightly touched her shoulder, and left the waiting area.
Leslie’s phone rang, and her sister’s name popped up on the screen. She took a steady breath and answered it. “Hey, Cindy. Is everything okay?”
Immediately, Leslie heard the cries of her two-year-old niece, Bree, in the background.
“Oh, it’s great.” Her voice was thick with sarcasm. “Bree has another double ear infection, and she’s just a mess. I’m waiting for the pharmacy to fill her antibiotic, but the doctor said it’ll take at least twenty-four hours before she starts feeling better. Once she starts the meds.” Cindy paused. “The doctor is going to refer us to an ENT and is recommending they put tubes in her ears.”
Poor baby. Bree had dealt with far more than her fair share of ear infections in her two years of life. If tubes could finally end the constant cycle of infections and antibiotics, it would be worth it.
Cindy, her husband Peter, and their two girls lived in Destiny less than fifteen minutes from Leslie’s house. She saw them often. Five-year-old Izzy was obsessed with talking to Leslie on the phone, too. Sometimes the conversations the girl started had Leslie in stitches.
“I’m sorry you’re going through all of this. I hope, if the ENT agrees that tubes are necessary, that they’ll help Bree feel better. She’s had more than her fair share of ear infections.”
“She sure has. I just hope Peter can be here for the procedure.”
