“Yeah, no worries. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun at the recital.”
Dr. Voss smiled and nodded. “I will. You have a good night, too.”
Quinn smiled as the vet left. She liked her. Dr. Voss was only a few years older, but she had a calm maturity that Quinn admired. No matter what kind of trauma came through the front doors, Dr. Voss always handled it with grace and poise and always knew just what to say to a family grieving a pet. And she’d been kind enough not to have Quinn assist on any more pet euthanasia, bless that woman. Gertie didn’t seem to have any trouble with it, for which Quinn was eternally grateful.
A pair of tabby cats that had been spayed mewed at her from the cages along the wall. Unable to resist them as they rubbed themselves down the sides of the wire cages, she strode over and pet them until they were purring in contented waves. The ding of the bell on the front door was quiet but distinct from the back room. It must be Dr. Voss, back because she forgot something.
But when the veterinarian didn’t come to the back room, Quinn began to worry it was a customer, come late with an emergency. “Hang on,” she called out, weaving around the boxes of medicine stacked willy nilly on the floor. “I’m coming!”
When she reached for the door handle, the click of metal on metal sounded. The tiny noise chilled her blood, and she pulled hard. The door didn’t budge.
“Hello? Is someone out there?” Her voice sounded much higher than she’d intended.
Jamming her foot against the wall, she gripped the handle again and pulled with all her strength. Nothing. “What the heck?”
She jogged for the back exit, then yanked on the knob. That one was stuck, too. Shoot. Jerking over and over with all of her might proved to be fruitless. Panic sent her heart rate to skittering against her ribs as she searched the room for something to pry open the door. Nah, forget that. She was calling the police. Someone had locked her in here on purpose. She didn’t know why, but she needed help.
Shaking, clammy hands made her drop the cell as soon as she dug it out of her back pocket, but thankfully, it still worked. She dialed 911 and told the automated message system the address. A local operator picked up.
“Someone has locked me inside of the Tiny Paws Vet clinic off of Main. I’m in a back room and need help. I can’t get either of the exit doors open.”
“All right,” an elderly sounding woman said. “Just remain calm. I’m sending someone to you right now.”
Something pungent and thick hit her nose, and she clutched the cell phone tighter.
“Ma’am?” she asked, voice shaking.
“Yes, dear?”
“I smell smoke.”
Chapter Five
Dade lay back on his bed in the single room he’d been assigned to at the station. Linking his hands behind his head, he stared up at the tiles in the ceiling and tried for the billionth time to ignore the urge to beg a grocery run with the guys just to drive by the veterinary clinic and see if Quinn’s bike was out front.
Whatever the woman had done to him, it sucked. Holding any kind of focus was a joke, and now he’d lost his appetite. And worst of all, his inner grizzly was more restless than one of those caged bears at the zoo. He winced as his stomach turned again. He’d Changed four times this week, and still, he felt barely in control of his own skin.
He’d just got done with a shower after a two hour heavy-weight workout, and still he couldn’t get his mind off her. He thought if he refused to see her, his bear would give up, but the mean old cuss was just getting more and more pissed as each day passed.
Maybe Bruiser had been right. Maybe he should trust his instincts.
The alarm sounded, and he lurched up. The dispatcher came over the loudspeaker, announced a fire in progress, and recited the address. She called up the paramedics, too, and said a woman was trapped.
Fuck, he hated these. Every second counted when there was a life in the grip of those flames. Adrenaline pumped through his bloodstream as he sprinted down the hall and out to the hanger where the engine sat ready. Already, Boone and Gage were donning their gear as Cody, dressed and ready, barked out orders into a radio at his shoulder.
The address was right off Main Street, down at the end and near a wooded area, so there was a risk of igniting the dry pine needle floor around the building. He skidded to a stop near his turnout gear. He’d dressed for fires so many times he could do it without thinking. Stepped into the trousers, into the boots, pulled up the suspenders and latched them in place. Pulled on the jacket, button, button, button. Velcroed the neck. Helmet on and oxygen tank flipped over his head and on like a backpack, clicked into place at his waist and tightened to secure it. He grabbed his mask and gloves and bolted for the engine. Now he was waterproof, heat proof, and ready to hop up into big old red clanging Engine 4.