Wild Fire. Debra Cowan

it was delayed reaction? Maybe just the realization that a service like this could also have been held for her? She might have the information to help find M.B.’s killer, but it was lost somewhere in her mind.

      Glen Perry’s voice cracked and Shelby’s heart ached for him, ached for M.B.’s parents who were burying a child. She thought about her own mother having to bury Jason and couldn’t imagine how Paula would cope if something were to happen to her, too. That put a painful lump in her throat.

      Stop! she told herself. Clay leaned forward with his wrists resting on his knees and she focused on the sight of his strong, gentle hands.

      Finally the service was over. She fought a rising sense of suffocation as she waited with Clay and Collier to walk out. Once they stepped into the warm May sunshine, Shelby let out a sigh of relief. After telling Clay where she was going, she moved over to join the people in line to pay their respects to the Perry family. Returning to her friends, she tried to keep from bursting into tears. If she knew who’d killed M.B., why couldn’t she remember?

      Feeling helpless and frustrated, she turned her attention to the tall man beside Clay. “Collier, how much longer before yours and Kiley’s wedding?”

      “One week, one day and—” He glanced at his watch. “Seven hours. Y’all are coming, aren’t you?”

      Clay and Shelby both nodded.

      She was amazed at how perfect he and Detective Russell were for each other. “I never thought I’d see you walk down the aisle.”

      “My momma didn’t raise no dummy. I’m not letting that woman get away.”

      Shelby grinned, trying to keep her thoughts from sliding back into fear.

      Clay nudged her shoulder, saying in a low voice, “See that guy over there in the white shirt and jeans? He’s a custodian from M.B.’s school named Antonio Sandoval. Everyone Collier and I spoke to said he spent a lot of time with M.B.”

      “Why?” She turned, following Clay’s gaze to a lean, darkly handsome man with raven hair, a deep tan and striking bone structure. Double-take gorgeous.

      “She was teaching him to read and write English.”

      “He speaks the language well,” Collier added. “But he says he’s never learned to read or write it.”

      “What reason could he have for wanting to kill M.B.?”

      “We have to find out if he did have one.” Collier studied the Hispanic man. “Some of the other janitorial staff think there was more going on than reading lessons.”

      “They think he was M.B.’s lover?”

      Clay nodded. “Could Sandoval have been the guy you saw at her house that time?”

      She frowned. “I don’t know.”

      “He denies things went that far with M.B.”

      Shelby’s throat knotted. She watched the other attendees move slowly among M.B.’s family members, heard a sob coming from someone. She looked away, filled with anger over her friend’s death, the chilling realization that she could easily have met the same fate, frustration over her memory loss.

      Why couldn’t she remember? She wanted to help M.B., wanted whoever had killed the teacher to be brought to justice. All Shelby had was a yawning black hole in her mind, a fluid blurry memory that floated out of reach any time she tried to latch onto it. And a rage that flared occasionally. Dr. Boren had said the head injury would cause intense, often unfamiliar emotions.

      The younger of M.B.’s two brothers leaned down to their mother and Shelby heard choked sobs coming from them both. Tears burned her eyes and she turned away.

      Clay squeezed her shoulder. “You okay?”

      “I’m ready to go,” she said unsteadily.

      “You got it.”

      They said goodbye to Collier and walked quietly to Clay’s black pickup truck. As they pulled onto the main road, she felt his concerned gaze on her. Fighting to keep from crying, she didn’t speak for several long minutes. “I keep thinking that service could’ve been for me.”

      Clay’s free hand, resting on his thigh, curled into a fist. He didn’t prod her to continue; he just waited.

      “I feel…terrified and I don’t even know why.” Her voice thickened. “Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I help her?”

      “It’ll come, Shelby.”

      “What if it doesn’t? What if a killer gets away with murder because of me?”

      “First of all, it won’t be because of you. And secondly, I’m going to find this killer.” He looked at her somberly for a long moment. “But if you never remember anything, we’ll figure out a way to handle it.”

      She felt so strange, confused and wobbly, as if she’d lost her footing. Reaching over, she slipped her hand into Clay’s. He linked their fingers and a sense of relief moved through her.

      “I couldn’t do this without you,” she said quietly. “I’m so glad you’re my best buddy.”

      “Back at ya.” He squeezed her hand.

      She marveled at how the least word from him could reassure her. Looking into those familiar green eyes, she saw steadiness, concern, the always-present acceptance. Nothing heated or sexual or unexpected. Nothing like what she thought she’d seen the day she had come home from the hospital. She’d only imagined the hunger there, the reaction of his body to hers.

      There was relief at the realization, but it was joined by an emotion she couldn’t identify. What mattered was that she had misread the situation with Clay that day. Completely misread it.

      When Shelby returned to work on Monday, things were still normal between her and Clay. The odd physical awareness that had sprung up between them wasn’t what had her feeling backed into a corner. It was Vince Tyner, who stood in front of her at the firehouse.

      She’d been carrying in groceries and found her ex-boy-friend in the kitchen. Her spine stiffened. Had he simply walked in? Where was everyone else?

      “I wanted to come by and see you.” His smile seemed forced. “I’ve called several times, but I guess your buddy, Clay, didn’t tell you.”

      “He told me. I appreciate you checking on me, Vince. As you can see, I’m fine.”

      He moved around the long, scratched dining table, the muscles in his massive arms straining at the fabric of his paramedic’s uniform shirt. His gaze slid over her as his voice lowered suggestively to say, “You look good.”

      “I’m well enough to come back to work,” she said brightly, although her guard was now raised. “Which is what I should be doing.”

      “I want to talk to you, Shelby.” He eased closer, brown eyes glittering sharply. “I need to.”

      “About what?” She stayed where she was, making sure to keep the open doorway at her back.

      “About us.”

      “This is where I work. You shouldn’t be here.”

      “I’m not leaving until you talk to me. You won’t return my calls. Jessup won’t let me anywhere near you. This is the only way I figure I can talk to you about us.”

      “I’m not interested in an us.”

      “Is this what you told all those other guys, too?” he demanded hotly. “I know you feel differently about me than you do all of them.”

      No, I don’t. She didn’t want to be so blunt, but maybe she should. “I don’t want to get serious with anyone, Vince.”

      “Are you seeing someone else?”

      “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”