Take a Chance on Me(55)

“Hard to do that from twenty-plus miles away. Better to get close to it, see it, hear it.” Still, the program might save precious time and resources if they could predict the run of the fire. “Does it work?”

“We’re still testing it, but he’s able to upload his data right to the handhelds.” Jed pointed to the box. “Sort of like smartphones but with better service.”

“Like the kind that can survive being dropped in the dirt, kicked, and burned?”

“Oh no. We leave that to the hotshots,” Conner said, smiling.

Darek put him in his late thirties, maybe early forties, experience around his eyes. He liked him. “How often does the data refresh?”

“Right now, it’s dependent on satellite—the same Doppler the weather service uses. But we can also receive data from airplanes, and in Montana, we are developing a remote video surveillance system that is affixed to the fire lookout towers.” He glanced at Jed. “But we admit, there is no substitute for experience and hands-on surveillance.”

Darek leaned in, got his bearings, then touched the screen. “If we had to, we could go in through here—” He traced his way up the portage route, moving his finger east, then south. “There’s a large clearing along Forest Route 153. A great place to set up a fire camp.”

Jed checked his route on the map. “Dare, I’d love for you to jump aboard and help me work the fire—even at the command center. If you want, you could hike in with us. You know this area, know how the fire might react with this fuel.”

Yes. The word was nearly on his lips. Nearly . . . “I . . . I’d love to, but—” He glanced at Tiger. “I can’t.”

“You don’t have anyone to watch him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Surely his mother wouldn’t mind. Or Nan. She’d jump at the opportunity to keep him. Even overnight.

Except wouldn’t that give her perfect evidence for her belief that he didn’t really want to be a father, that he would rather race out to fight fire than take care of his son?

“Daddy! I gotta go!” Tiger had run up to him and was holding himself, doing the potty dance.

Darek steered his son by the shoulder toward the bathroom. He could hear the guys laughing behind him. He stood in front of the door, his neck hot, while Tiger took care of his business.

“No problem, Dare. You have your hands full,” Jed said. He gave him a kind, almost-pitying smile.

Or maybe Darek just imagined the pity.

He drew in a long breath. “Where are you guys staying?”

“Dunno. Know of any good places in town? Forest service is picking up the tab.”

Darek smiled. There was more than one way to get in on the action. “As a matter of fact, I have just the place.”





“Why on earth would you want to spend your lunch hour losing at checkers? I think this was a bad idea.” Gibs jumped two of Jensen’s red chips. “Crown me.”

“You’re better company than the seagulls,” Jensen said, adding a black chip to Gibs’s. “Besides, I’ve won a couple times.”

The sun streamed in through the man’s hospital window, across his bed to the red recliner, where Jensen sat opposite the bedside table. His half-eaten sub sandwich lay on the nightstand.

Actually, what he might call this, if anyone really put him on the rack, was cowardice. He hadn’t known that Claire would be there when he arrived two days ago to build the ramp. Being around her made him lose his focus—if he didn’t watch it, he’d slice off a finger or slam his thumb with a hammer.

Or say something stupid, like his comment about going to jail. After that, she’d looked at him just like he deserved.

That’s why she stayed inside, never came out again. Why today he couldn’t bear to head back up there until he knew she started her shift at two o’clock.

He could work late into the evening, no problem. He was good at working in the shadows.

“Jensen, pay attention. I just double-jumped you. If you’re not going to play to win, then don’t bother.”

He glanced at Gibs, but the man wore a smile. “You want me to beat you, old man?”

“You can at least try.”

Jensen moved his piece, waited for Gibs to move, then double-jumped him. “Crown me.”

“That’s more like it. You’re playing like a whipped puppy. That’s not the Jensen I used to know.”

“The Jensen you used to know was reckless and dangerous and got everyone in trouble.”

“No, the Jensen I used to know was a young whippersnapper who was just trying to get the girls to like him.”