“Yeah, sure, hon. Just like Superman.”
And on those nights when she couldn’t fall asleep, knowing he might be facing flames or smoke or tiptoeing through a blazing building that could collapse at any second—she’d remember Superman. The Caped Crusader couldn’t die. Not without some kryptonite involved at least. Maybe, just maybe, her brave daddy had a little bit of superhero inside him that would keep him safe and bring him home . . . again.
He’d kiss her forehead again, straighten her L necklace, holding it for a brief moment as if it were transmitting memories, and then say good night like he was going to bed in the next room rather than off to fight—not bullies, not armies, not even criminals—but fire. Unpredictable, intense, and dangerous fire.
A shifting movement by Adult Ellie’s side woke her from her fitful recollections. Neck stiff from being cricked in an odd position and just enough drool collected in the corner of her mouth to make Ellie bring the sleeve of her shirt up to wipe it away, she sat up with a start, a dark trail of saliva swooped up the wrist of her borrowed sweatshirt.
“Hello, sleepyhead,” Travis said, pen and pad in hand and a soft smile turning up the side of his mouth. When he smiled like that, it made an extra crease form in his cheek, not exactly a dimple but also not a wrinkle. An intriguing smile line that gave his smirk a touch of character and briefly made Ellie’s lips turn up too. She sniffed in through her nose, threw her arms above her head to stretch, and then checked her watch. All the worry that reality held came crashing in. Another hour had passed and still no news.
“So, I know this might not feel like the best timing, but I really do need to talk to you about, uh, everything.” Travis was whispering even though the room was empty.
Ellie sat up and blinked several times to clear her cloudy contacts. She hadn’t eaten all day beyond a few cups of coffee, which still made her stomach feel a little sour. The heavy weight of fear and the unknown settled down on her shoulders again. She didn’t want to talk to Travis about what she’d seen: the blood, the open wounds, the smoke still hanging in the air. But he wasn’t going to give up until she did.
“Fine.” She slapped at her legs with both hands and then looked him in the eye. “What do you want to know?”
Travis flipped the black cover back, over the metal spiral, and clicked his pen to the open position.
“Tell me about Amelia. What was her job? What kind of mom was she? How was her marriage to”—he glanced over the page—“Steve?”
She rubbed her face, voice cracking a little. “First of all, let’s stop talking about her in the past tense. Okay?”
Travis blinked slowly like he’d just realized how his previous statement sounded. His jaw clenched for a second, and he let the hand holding his notebook fall into his lap.
“Brown, I’m so sorry—,” he started. Ellie cut in before he could fumble over his apology.
“Amelia is a stay-at-home mom, but she’s also a concert cellist. She does some work for Steve’s company. Her plate is pretty full, but she does it so flawlessly. She . . . takes care of my dad a few days a week while I’m working.” Emotion clamped down on her throat, and though she knew she’d regret the vulnerability later, she let the feeling pour into her chest, her heart pounding against the tears like it was underwater. Words became harder to get out, and she had to really think about forming each one before saying it out loud. “And, really, she takes care of me too. She’s my hero, and I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.”
One tear and then another raced down her cheeks, and instead of wiping them away like she was embarrassed, she let them linger. Travis scribbled in his notebook, glancing up a few times with concern but also a determination that let Ellie know he wasn’t backing off any time soon.
“And her relationship with her husband? Do they fight often? Any history of infidelity?”
Ellie had been so focused on Amelia that she hadn’t taken the time to really think about Steve and his injuries. Steve had always been there for her from the moment she was introduced to him when she was ten years old. When Amelia had first started dating Steve, Ellie had a huge little-girl crush on him. He seemed so tall and strong and funny, but once he and Amelia got serious, Ellie appreciated the firefighter in a whole different way.
She’d never had a brother before. No matter what was going on in Ellie’s life, Steve was there for her. He was the one to bring the air horn to her graduation and nearly get kicked out for using it anytime her name was mentioned. Or he’d somewhat protectively interrogate any boy she brought home, including Collin. He tugged her ponytail and made fun of her fashion sense. Other than her father, he had been the one constant male figure in her life for the past ten years. And when her father had his stroke, Steve held her gently, rubbed her back, and let her know everything was going to be okay. Today she hoped he was right.
“No way. Steve is loyal. He loves Amelia and their girls so much.”
Travis kept his eyes down, scribbling on the nearly full page almost like he didn’t want to look her in the eye. Ellie shook her head and cleared her throat.
“No, seriously. They are happy. They love each other. They have the perfect marriage . . . They . . .” Ellie swallowed hard. “Steve was shot too. I saw him and his wounds. They were definitely not self-inflicted. Objectively, I just don’t think he could’ve done it.”
“Uh-huh . . .” He scribbled one last thing and then flipped to the next page before looking up, something hidden about his eyes now. “What was his state of mind when you and your partner met him on the driveway?”
“Well, he had just been shot. So. Not great, Rivera.” Ellie was starting to get frustrated. “He was rolling around in pain. I assessed him briefly, but Chet did the actual assessment.”
“Because you broke protocol and went inside.” For the first time his pen was still, eyebrows raised. “Right?”
Ellie hesitated, considering lying or at least delaying an answer, but if they had the cameras, they would know everything soon.
“Yeah. Sure. Fine. Put that in your report.” She waved at the book, a feeling of resignation settling on her shoulders. She could get fired for this.
“Ellie, that was incredibly dangerous.” He put down his pen with a click that was final, some of the judgment leaving the lines of his face.
“I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t.” She swallowed loudly. “My sister was inside.”