“But this is one call you’re going to want to take, Quint. It’s Sarah Sheely on line one. She’s calling to tell you that your father’s house is on fire.”
3
“W hat?” Quint’s voice was loud and sharp as a shotgun blast.
Rachel jumped to her feet. Her entire body was trembling but she instinctively moved toward Quint.
“Hi, Quint.” A young woman’s voice sounded over the speakerphone. “Your father’s house is on fire and I’m—”
“Sarah, where’s Brady?” Quint cut in. “Is he all right?”
“Don’t worry, Brady’s here with me. Say ‘hi’ to Daddy, Brady.”
“Hi, Daddy!” A baby voice boomed throughout the office.
Rachel grasped the edge of the desk and stared at Quint, wide-eyed. He had a child? Quinton Cormack was a father? Certainly, she had never asked about his marital status—as if she cared!—yet she’d known early on that he was a bachelor. The existence of his child came as a distinct shock.
“See, Quint, Brady’s fine,” Sarah’s voice came over the line once again. “We’re at the neighbors across the street from your dad’s house. That’s where Carla called me from, and I drove right over.”
“Why did Carla call you?” Quint demanded. “Wouldn’t calling the fire department be a more logical choice?”
“She was trying to reach you. Maybe she thought you were at home instead of the office, I don’t know. Carla’s scared out of her mind, Quint, she’s not thinking too straight. The neighbors called the fire department and thetruck’s here now. The police too. Quint, you’d better get over here.”
Sarah paused to audibly inhale. “Nobody knows where Dustin is. Somebody said he was seen running back inside the house yelling he was going to get their dog.”
“And he hasn’t been seen since? My God, Dustin is trapped inside?”
Quint’s voice echoed through Rachel’s head. She didn’t know who he was talking about, but the implications of anyone being trapped in a burning building were horrifying.
“What was the kid doing at home at this hour? It’s a Thursday, why in hell wasn’t that child at school? I know he’s not sick, I just saw him yesterday,” Quint thundered in a raw furious voice that was light-years away from his effective, controlled courtroom tone of oh-so-righteous anger. “God almighty, Sarah, why didn’t someone grab him before he went into that house?”
“I don’t know!” Sarah shouted back. “Just get here, Quint. Carla’s running around screaming and everybody’s starting to go crazy.” A loud baby wail nearly drowned out her voice. “See what I mean? Even Brady’s getting scared.”
“I’ll be right there,” Quint promised, and raced from his office.
Automatically, Rachel followed him, so close on his heels that when he stopped suddenly in the reception area she crashed into him, colliding full force with his broad back. Reeling from impact, gulping for breath, she swayed backward.
“Dammit, I don’t have my car!” Quint seemed unaware that he’d dealt Rachel a body blow equal to an offensive lineman’s sack of a quarterback. He was talking aloud to himself, oblivious to everything around him. “That damned recall—I finally took the car in to the dealership, today of all days, and now I’m stuck without—”
“Wish I could help, but my husband dropped me off on his way to the warehouse, as usual,” Helen lamented. “Dana doesn’t have her car today either—one of her brothersborrowed it. You know how those Sheelys are always juggling rides. Should I call you a taxi, Quint?”
“I have my car,” Rachel heard herself say.
For a moment, she wondered if her forceful collision with Quint had left her delirious. Was that really her offering to help her avowed enemy? Then she thought of the fierce panic in his voice, the fear she’d seen in his dark brown eyes when he’d heard that the child named Dustin had run inside the burning house. She was acting on a natural humanitarian
Learning to Kill: Stories