On Fire

On Fire

DAFINA BOOKS

Chapter One

Her newspaper editor's words hit Sharon MacCabe like a leather palm. Hard. Stinging. Totally unexpected. Announcements like this shouldn't come on a Friday.

Sharon searched the older man's drooping features. She was too breathless to be hysterical, too numb to be outraged. She leaned back onto the hard, plastic visitor's seat, seeking support. "Why?"

Wayne shifted in his battered blue office chair. It squeaked under his weight. "The publisher is going to assign someone else to the beat. He thinks you're better with features."

Sharon flinched at the implication she couldn't handle hard news. She'd been covering the fire department for the Charleston Times for the past six months. The previous beat reporter had left the West Virginia daily for greater fame and fortune. The assignment had taken her one step closer to her dream of becoming an investigative reporter. That's why she hadn't resented the fourteen-hour days, or weekends in the office learning about firefighting and meeting department officials.

She'd worked for years to prove herself capable of handling a hard news beat. She'd finally been assigned to oneonly to have it snatched away from her.

She gripped the chair's cool, plastic arms. "Are you dissatisfied with my work?"

Wayne's pale gray gaze slid from hers. "Your work is fine."

His comment wasn't resounding praise, but neither was it criticism. Sharon clenched her fists in her lap to isolate her shaking. "Then why am I being demoted?"

"It's not a demotion. We're just shuffling personnel."

First, he demotes her, then he lies to her. The ice of shock melted under the heat of temper. "Who else are you shuffling?"

Wayne sat back and his seat screeched again. "At this time, no one. But additional reassignments may come later."

Something was wrong with this picture. Apparently overnight, Gus Aldridge, the publisher, had sprouted some wild hair and stomped her budding career into the ground. What was going on?

"Does Gus have a replacement in mind?"

Wayne finally looked at her. "Lucas Stanton."

Anger thumped in her chest, each pulse reverberating in her throat. "Senator Kurt Stanton's nephew?"

"He starts Monday."

The state senator from Institute, West Virginia, was up for re-election in November. He faced a tight race over the next seven months against his challenger.

What was Gus up to?

Sharon's voice shook as she spoke. "What newspaper experience does the senator's nephew have?"

Her boss sat straighter in his chair. "He received a degree in English from West Virginia State College."

"Oh, come on, Wayne." Sharon's chuckle held more scorn than humor. "You know there's a world of difference between a comp paper and a news story."

"Everyone has to start somewhere."

"I started six years ago transcribing police reports. Why can't Stanton's nephew do the same?"

"Because Aldridge wants him to start with the fire department." Wayne rested his forearms on the stack of press releases and news clippings on his desk. It wasn't quite nine A.M., but already the sleeves of his white shirt were dusted with newsprint.

Sharon swallowed her disappointment. "You told me it was my time to move up after Ernie went to the Baltimore Sun. Now you're taking that away?"

Shame joined regret in Wayne's tired eyes. "I'm sorry, Sharon, but Stanton starts Monday."

He spoke with finality. Sharon took a steadying breath. The musty scent of newsprint filled her lungs. Her gaze wandered her boss's office. It resembled a storage locker of newspapers. Rival papers. National papers. Small community weeklies. It was a definite fire hazard.

Wayne's room was one in a row of offices along one wall. Dim, dingy plasterboard formed three of its sides. The fourth was Plexiglas, which afforded the office's occupant a view of the reporters' cubicles. Were people watching them now and, if so, what was their interpretation?

She looked again at her editor. "What about the feature interview I scheduled with the new fire station captain today? And the fire department meeting this evening?"

"Features are your area. You can write up the captain's interview. And go to the meeting. If anything comes from it, brief Stanton Monday."

Sharon's temper spiked. She counseled herself not to let her emotions take over. Nothing would be gained by creating a scene. "Do you expect me to train my replacement?" Her tone was hard but calm.

"Don't forget someone helped you when you first joined this paper, MacCabe."

"No, Wayne. I worked my way up from an intern. I wasn't given someone else's beat to curry political favor."

The flush started in Wayne's neck and rose to spot the scalp beneath his thinning gray hair. He dropped his gaze. "You have your assignment, MacCabe. Take it and be glad you still have a job."

Although muttered, the words stung. Sharon pushed herself to her feet and crossed the fraying gray carpet to the door. She clenched her jaw to keep from hurling words she could not take back.

She turned with her hand on the knob. "This newspaper is putting Stanton's political connections above my experience. How does that serve our readers?"

She turned her back on Wayne's guilty expression.

Sharon walked down the aisle, past the newsroom's gray-and-glass decor, and curious coworkers. Back at her cubicle, she continued to fume as she fired up her computer. A newspaper was no place for political cronyism. Among other things, people depended on the paper for information to actively participate in their democratic society. It shouldn't be used to advance someone's agenda, which was obviously Gus's intent.

"What did that keyboard do to you?"

Sharon looked up at the sound of Allyson Scott's voice. The political reporter stood in the entrance of Sharon's cubicle, the inevitable mug of coffee cupped in her palms.

"I've been replaced on the fire department beat." Fresh anger spurted into Sharon's veins.

Allyson's hazel brown eyes widened in her tan, heart-shaped face. "Why?"

Sharon shrugged. "Gus wants to please his political buddy. Senator Stanton's nephew starts Monday."

The other woman's jaw dropped. In one fluid movement, she settled her mug on the corner of Sharon's desk and displaced the folders from the guest chair to the floor so she could sit.

The political reporter was a tall, willowy brunette. Her appearance was so feminine and unthreatening that new people at the capital usually didn't notice her sharp mind until it was too late.

Allyson reclaimed her coffee. "How long has this been in the works?"

Sharon glanced at her watch. She didn't want to be late for her interview with the new fire station captain, Matthew Payton. "I don't know." She jerked open her bottom desk drawer and grabbed her stash of pretzel rods.

"Is this a temporary assignment or is he going to be permanent staff?"

"I have no idea. I was too upset to think of asking those questions."

Sharon bit into one of the pretzels. Low sodium, low fat, very little taste. Once this bag was finished, her healthier eating habits would die an unlamented death.

Allyson leaned forward and touched the back of Sharon's wrist. "I would have been too. This is just so strange."

"I know." She offered the pretzels to Allyson, who declined the snack with a shake of her head. "Gus is a registered independent. Why would he cozy up to a particular politician?"

"Money and power. That's what everyone's ultimately after."

Sharon pulled her oversized, overstuffed purse from her desk drawer and heaved it onto her shoulder as she stood. "It used to be about the news."

Arriving at Fire Station 11 almost thirty minutes later, Sharon followed the administrative assistant's directions to an office at the opposite end of the main floor. The room was devoid of personal effects. If it weren't for the nameplate on the wall beside the door, she wouldn't have known she'd found Matthew Payton.

Charleston's newest fire station captain looked over from his computer as Sharon paused in the doorway. With her reporter's eye for detail, she cataloged his dark brown skin, prominent cheekbones and strong jaw. Full, well-shaped lips softened features so sharply drawn they could have been sculpted from the mountains that made her state famous.

When he spun his chair forward, the woman in her caught the full effect of his broad shoulders, gift wrapped in a plain, white cotton shirt. He stood, smoothing his royal-blue-and-yellow tie.

His midnight eyes held her gaze for a long moment. Sharon wondered whether he was going to invite her in or if he expected her to conduct the interview from the hallway.

She made herself relax. The drive from the newsroom hadn't done much to improve her mood. She was still seething over her demotion. But this meeting wouldn't go well if she projected that anger on to her interview subject.

Sharon found a smile and strode forward, hand extended. The captain met her halfway and wrapped his long, blunt fingers around hers. His touch was firm and warm.

She tilted her head to meet his eyes. He was at least seven inches taller than her five-foot-five. "I'm Sharon MacCabe. Thank you for allowing me to interview you."

"You're welcome. Have a seat."

Matthew's deep, dark voice was even more compelling in person than it had been during their brief phone conversation. She watched him return to the large, brown executive seat behind his desk. He waited for her to sit before folding his lean body onto the chair. She was curious about the wariness in his eyes.

Sharon crossed her legs, pulling her reporter's notebook and mini-recorder from her bag. "Would you mind if I taped this interview?"

"No, go ahead."

She turned on the recorder, then found a blank page for her notes. "Why would someone born and raised in a big city like Pittsburgh decide to move to a much smaller one like Charleston, West Virginia?"

Matthew leaned back in his chair, propping his elbows on its armrests. "I was ready for a change."

It took a moment for Sharon to realize he wasn't going to elaborate. "What kind of change?"

Matthew paused as though considering her question-or maybe his answer. "The usual. A new place to call home and the challenges of a new job."

"This is your second week on the job. What challenges have you faced so far?" Sharon's hand sped across the page, transcribing his answers even as she

"Nothing I can't handle."

The captain's reticence to be interviewed fueled her curiosity. She was writing a harmless feature. To what could he possibly object? She'd lobbed softballs at him-as they said in the newspaper business-but he refused to relax. She switched her attention from her notepad to her interview subject.

"I'm sure you're up to these challenges, Captain, but could you give us examples of them?"

Matthew again appeared to weigh his response. "Recreating a fire scene is always challenging."

"In addition to being the station's captain, you're also the lead fire investigator. How will the dual roles influence the station's fire inspection procedures?"

"I won't discuss that until we've completely reviewed those procedures."

The interview wasn't going well. Sharon smothered a sigh and went back to the basics: age, rank, and hobbies. How did he like the Mountain State? What tourist attractions had he seen so far? What was he looking forward to experiencing next? With each question, Matthew's answers became more relaxed.

Sharon was pleased with the interview's improvement as her pen flew across the notepad. "What was your job with the Pittsburgh fire department?"

"I was a firefighter."

She glanced up. "A lieutenant?"

"No, a firefighter."

"How did you jump from being a firefighter to station captain and lead investigator?"

Indignation flared in Matthew's midnight eyes. "I had the skills the fire chief and assistant chief were looking for."

"What are those skills?"

Matthew heard the incredulity in the reporter's voice. He also sensed her anger. He didn't know why she was upset; he was the one on the hot seat.

He hadn't wanted to be featured in the Charleston Times. However, his new boss, Assistant Chief of Administration Brad Naismith, and Fire Chief Larry Miller insisted the story would help improve the department's image in the community. Deciding to save his energy for more worthy battles, Matthew had agreed to the interview.

The little reporter appeared harmless with her guileless ebony eyes. But he'd learned from bitter experience the press was capable of twisting answers to seemingly innocent questions.

Sharon pushed strands of her thick, dark hair behind her shoulder. She repeated her question. Her soft, Southern accent reminded him of warm summer nights. "What are those skills?"

"I have twelve years of experience as a firefighter."

She arched a winged eyebrow. "Do you have any experience running a station?"

"Ms. MacCabe, I don't have to give you my résumé. I've already earned my job."

"I realize that. But the community has a right to know their fire station captain's qualifications."

Matthew wasn't going to play the public's-right-to-know game. The press had a wicked winning streak compared to both the interview subject and the public whose interest they professed to protect.

He stood. "Chief Miller and Assistant Chief Naismith can vouch for my qualifications. Any other questions?"

The pint-sized reporter rose too. The modest cream dress shifted over her slender figure as she stepped closer to his desk. "Just one. Why are you so defensive?"

He couldn't believe her audacity. "This was supposed to be a personality story, not an interrogation."

Her eyes sparked with anger and vivid color dusted her cheekbones. "I wasn't interrogating you. I was asking simple questions."

"I'm sure that's what Woodward and Bernstein said before they brought down Nixon's presidency." He crossed his arms. "Not everyone you meet has a criminal intent."

The reporter's sharp intake of breath let him know he'd hit his target. "I'm not out to get you. I'm just doing my job."

"What is your job, Ms. MacCabe? I thought reporters were supposed to cover the news, not pass judgment."

She stepped back as though he'd struck her. He held her wide-eyed gaze, refusing to regret his words.

Sharon turned from him to lift her oversized purse from the floor. She pulled the strap over her shoulder. "Thank you for your time." She turned, back straight and head high. Long strides carried her from his office.

Matthew's temper chilled with the realization he'd just crossed the media. In a normal situation, he would welcome the attention of an intelligent, attractive woman. But, circumstances as they were, this woman's interest could burn him.

Sharon paused in a corner of the station lobby, shaking with fury. She skimmed her notes. She had pages of inane questions and answers. They were enough for a surface piece that would entertain her readers, but they didn't delve far enough to satisfy her.

She glanced down the hall toward the captain's office. There was a lot more to Matthew Payton, but she wouldn't find out from him.

She stuffed her reporter's notebook into her bag and wove her way past groups of people entering and exiting the government building. Beyond the glass doors of the side entrance, she saw Li Mai Wong, Brad's administrative assistant, sharing a smoke break with coworkers.

Sharon pushed through the revolving doors and approached the tall, slender woman. She ignored the odor of cigarettes that carried on the late spring breeze.

"Hi, Li Mai. Do you have a moment?"

"Sure." Li Mai drove her cigarette into a standing ashtray. "How'd the interview go?"

"Fine, thanks. But it needs some background." Sharon led her companion to a quieter section of the break area. She leaned against the side of the building, trying to appear more casual than she felt. "What can you tell me about your new captain?"

"He's very nice. He doesn't talk much, though."

"Is he a snob?"

"No, just quiet. He doesn't talk much about himself. But he does ask a lot of questions."

Sharon pounced. "What kind of questions?" Questions about how to do his job, maybe?

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from On Fire by Patricia Sargeant Copyright © 2007 by Patricia Sargeant-Matthews. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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