Page 190 of Rising Heat

“I wouldn’t,” Mack says. “Besides, Ty’s cooking.”

I look over.

“Funny. I don’t remember volunteering.”

Coop claps him hard enough between the shoulder blades to rock him forward half a step.

“Seriously though. Congrats.”

Mack steadies himself.

“Thanks.”

Trick reaches over and smacks the back of Mack’s shoulder with his towel as he walks past.

“Proud of you.”

“Easy,” Mack mutters, shoving him away.

Coop points toward the envelope.

“You gonna frame it?”

“It’s paperwork.”

I shrug.

“Paperwork that comes with a raise.”

Mack rolls his eyes.

“You all done?”

Coop opens his mouth to answer.

The station tones beat him to it.

Music cuts off halfway through a song. Lockers slam open down the hall as dispatch starts feeding details through the speakers, every one of us already moving toward the bay before they finish the address.

MVA. Multiple vehicles. Possible entrapment.

Cars pull over before we’re through the intersection, horns blaring one by one as Mack leans harder on the siren. By the time we turn onto Boylston, I can already see it from half a block out—a sedan stopped sideways across the near lane and an SUV folded into a light pole twenty feet past it, driver’s side compressed almost to the center console.

The sedan’s door hangs open, radio still running. Engine 9 is already standing at the driver’s window with a sheet.

Steam vents from beneath the SUV’s hood while the hazard lights flash across the pavement. Mack’s at the front of the SUV before my boots hit the pavement, eyes moving over the frame, the light pole, the angle of the front tire.

“Trick, driver’s side. Marco, tools. Tyler, passenger.”

I circle around and crouch at the passenger window and get my first look at her.

Mid-thirties. Dark hair. One hand still on the steering wheel like she can’t make herself let go. Blood from a cut above her ear runs into the corner of her eye. She keeps blinking against it, slow and confused. In the back seat there’s a grocery bag—bananas, orange juice, a box of something I can’t read from here, spilled across the crumbled backseat.

“Hey.”

I get low enough that she has to find me.

“Right here. I’m Tyler. What’s your name?”