broken record.” Nate pulled into Jerry Muller’s driveway and tried to avoid looking at the charred structure on the other side of it. “I didn’t mind taking you to the hospital. It was closer to Williams’s place than it would have been for you to return to the station house for your car.”
“And this place is across the city from the hospital, and even farther from my vehicle.”
He aimed a level stare at her. “The last time I watched you drive away, you barely managed to make it out of a burning house alive. Consider me extra security.”
Because he was fairly certain he didn’t want to hear any response she would make to that, he got out of the car and headed for the side door of the house.
But it was impossible for him to wait for her there and not sneak a look at the home that could have been her coffin.
He’d have to walk all around the structure to get a clearer picture of the damage, but what he could see from here was enough to have his chest hollowing out.
The side facing them would have held the bedrooms. And the fire had gutted the area. The outside wall was all but destroyed. Parts of the roof had caved in. And the thought that Risa could have been caught in that . . . unaware of what lay in wait until the smoke had already ensured that she’d never regain consciousness . . . A muscle clenched in his jaw as his mind skirted the thought.
She joined him on the step and followed the direction of his gaze. And he thought he saw a hint of nerves in her expression when she looked at him. “Sometimes you don’t question luck. You just accept it.”
“And sometimes,” he said grimly, as he reached out to rap at the door, “luck runs out. Which is why you’re not by yourself tonight.”
The door was opened then and Nate blinked, his attention diverted by the guy in the doorway.
Stocky, about five-eight, the man’s receding hairline was in no danger of being duplicated anywhere else on his body. His tropical print shirt was open to his navel, and the gold chains he wore were half hidden in the thicket of fur that covered his chest. He bore the slightest resemblance to an ewok of Star Wars fame. Nate slid a sideways glance to Risa. She’d let her mother stay here?
“Risa! Come in, your mom is just watching TV. I hope you changed your mind about staying here, too. You can have my room and I’ll take the couch. I wouldn’t mind a bit.”
Nate smiled grimly as he stepped through the doorway after her. Yeah, he’d bet this Muller guy would be all over that idea. Which was just another reason he was glad he’d come along.
The house was small and hadn’t been updated in half a century. From what he’d seen through the open doorway the first day he’d been sent to collect Risa, the layout was very similar to her mother’s home. Or former home.
Hannah Blanchette was ensconced in an easy chair watching what appeared to be a Christian broadcast of some sort. She smiled in their direction but didn’t get up. Nate tried, and failed, to find any resemblance to Risa in her face.
“I’m fine,” the woman was saying in response to her daughter’s query. “Can’t seem to stop myself from dozing off every hour or so, but other than that, I feel all right.” Her voice sounded raw, even worse than Risa’s raspy tones today. “You should be resting, too, not running off to do heaven knows what.”
Risa bent down to brush a kiss over her mother’s cheek. “I’m fine, too. This is Nate McGuire, a PPD detective I’m working with.”
Hannah offered her hand and Nate crossed the room to take it. “Ms. Blanchette. I’m glad to see you doing so well after your ordeal.”
The older woman seemed flustered. “Well, I owe that all to Jerry, here. He saved my life. He’s a genuine hero.”
The man beamed a smile, but Nate noted it was aimed as much at Risa as toward the other woman. “I even got an idea for a future film from the rescue. It’s all material, right?”
“Risa, Jerry mentioned having you appear in it.” Hannah appeared to be tiring. “I told him that wouldn’t be your cup of tea. You never did like being in the limelight.”
An odd observation, Nate thought, given the fact that Risa must have