snapped his mouth closed without saying a word, and turned abruptly to continue on to the ambulance.
CJ stared after him with surprise, and then followed. But when he started to climb into the back of the vehicle where a male paramedic and a fireman were bent over someone sitting up on the stretcher, she caught his arm to stop him.
“They’re working on the man—wait here and give them room,” she admonished when he turned a blank face her way.
Officer Simpson didn’t respond, even in expression. That remained blank, she noted, and CJ was about to ask if he was all right when movement in the ambulance drew her attention. The fireman had straightened as much as he could and was moving toward the open doors with the paramedic following. Both of them were walking slightly bent at the waist to maneuver the cramped space.
“Is this a second victim, or did one of your men get hurt fighting the fire?” CJ asked as the fireman stepped down from the ambulance. Much to her amazement, he didn’t even slow down or glance her way to acknowledge the question. Expression oddly blank, the fireman simply walked past her to join the group of people several feet away.
“I was the only victim.”
CJ tore her surprised gaze away from the rude fireman and turned back to the ambulance at that announcement. She couldn’t see the speaker at first—the paramedic was now stepping down from the ambulance, his bulk blocking her view—but once he was on the ground and following the fireman, CJ was able to get her first good look at the speaker. A lack of light in the ambulance affected visibility, but he was a big man, with wide shoulders. She suspected he would be tall once he was standing. His hair was short and appeared dark, while his skin was very fair, but looked blotchy to her in the poor lighting. Although that could have been due to the shadows cast in the ambulance, she thought, and then asked, “I’m sorry, did you say you’re the only victim?”
The man was silent so long she didn’t think he was going to respond, but finally he said, “Yes. I live here alone. Or I was supposed to. I guess I shall have to find somewhere else to live now.”
“Then who did the first ambulance take away?” CJ asked with confusion.
“The first ambulance?” The question was sharp, with an undertone of concern.
“There was an ambulance leaving when I arrived,” she explained.
“Ah,” he said with understanding, “you must have arrived as they were heading for the hospital with me. Fortunately, I regained consciousness before they reached town and convinced them I was fine, so they turned around and brought me back.”
CJ’s eyebrows rose at that. “I was told the tub of water you were in was boiling by the time they got to you. Officer Jefferson told Simpson here that you were red as a lobster, parboiled and covered with large blisters. They didn’t expect you to survive.”
“Where is this Jefferson?” the man asked at once.
“He left before I got here,” CJ answered.
The man clucked with annoyance, and then pointed out, “Well, obviously this Officer Jefferson was wrong, was he not? Maybe all the flickering lights from your emergency vehicles played havoc with his eyes. But I assure you I am fine.”
CJ didn’t respond at first. He certainly sounded fine, but she couldn’t see him well enough to be assured that he really was. The interior lights in the ambulance had no doubt been on earlier, but were now off. They’d probably turned them off when they realized there was nothing that needed doing for him, if he really wasn’t injured. But then what had the men been doing in the ambulance when she and Simpson had approached? And why hadn’t they taken him to the hospital? He’d said he’d regained consciousness before they reached town. Something must have caused his unconsciousness. Probably smoke inhalation, she thought. In which case they definitely should have taken him to the hospital to at least be checked out. The man had barely escaped being burned to death, not to mention boiled alive, and rather than allow them to take him to the hospital, he’d made the paramedics bring him back to his burning home? “Mr.—”
“Argeneau,” he said when she paused expectantly.
“Mr. Argeneau,” she started again. “You really should go to the hospital. You’ve been through a traumatic experience, and could be suffering from shock or smoke inhalation. You should be