A fire?

I drop the phone and concentrate on driving. I've just passed Grand Avenue when I see the smoke. Panic twists my stomach. I'm a half-mile away, but I can't get closer because fire equipment blocks Mission. I leave the car in the parking lot of a Seven Eleven and start running.

I see David first, standing with a group of firemen. Only the firemen aren't holding hoses or wielding pick axes. In fact, they aren't doing anything at all except standing around chatting with my ex-football player partner.

It makes me angry. Why aren't they fighting the fire? I open my mouth to yell, but something stops me.

I look down the street, toward the cottage.

I know now why the firemen are clustered in their little circle, with David holding court. He may as well. There's nothing left of my home except smoldering debris.

I stop short, heart hammering so hard I think it will burst my chest.

Nothing left.

I feel someone touch my arm.

"Anna."

It's David.

But I turn away from him and walk toward the burned shell that used to be my grandmother's cottage. I hear him call out to me, but I don't stop and I don't turn around. I can't.

There are two firemen picking through the rubble. One of them notices me and comes over. He's young, but his eyes are somber, and his voice full of compassion when he asks, "Was this your home, ma'am?"

I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from his partner. He's moving through the debris, dousing little tongues of fire that lap to the surface here and there as the air hits.

"Is there anything left?"

He shakes his head. "Won't be able to tell for a day or so. You'll have to wait until things cool off and our investigation is complete before you can go in. There'll be security posted, to protect the integrity of the scene. Offhand, though, I'd say it's pretty much a total loss. I'm sorry."

A total loss.

David is at my side again. This time, he opens his arms and gathers me against his chest. I let him, though I don't have the strength to raise my own arms and hug back. I can only stand there, eyes on the ruins.

Finally, he pulls back and looks down at me. There's a flash of surprise, and I know it's registering that all traces of my wounds are gone. He doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, he makes a gesture toward the uniformed policeman approaching us from the sidewalk. "They have some questions for you."

I nod and let the policeman lead me over to his car. He's middle-aged and paunchy, with a kind face and sad eyes. He opens the door, and I slide in sideways on the passenger side while he kneels down in front of me.

He asks all the usual questions and takes copious notes. I answer the best I can, though shock is beginning to take its toll.

No, I was not home last night.

No, I'd rather not give the name of my companion if it's not necessary at this time.

No, I don't know why anyone would do this.

Yes, I have insurance.

The interview drags on until another policeman approaches. He touches the arm of the cop interviewing me, and they both move to the side, out of my hearing. In a moment, they are back-thanking me for the time, assuring me that they will be in touch.

David draws near, offering me a hand out of the car. Like an automaton, I push myself off the seat.

"How could this happen? I don't understand," I say.

He shakes his head. "I don't either. The fire chief thinks this was no accident. They've already started an investigation. They can pinpoint the origin of the fire, and it seems to be dead center in the cottage. They've found traces of an accelerant."

He pauses, an uncomfortable silence stretching between us as I see him bristling with a question he's suddenly afraid of or unsure how to ask. His hands clasp and unclasp at his side.

"What is it?"

David lets out a breath in a noisy rush. "Where have you been, Anna? I've been trying to call you all night. Do you have any idea how worried I was? Your cell phone was turned off, you didn't answer at the cottage. And don't try telling me you were with Michael. He told me he hadn't heard from you for a month-"

"Jesus, David. You didn't say anything to him about what happened, did you?"

"No," he snaps right back. "But I should have. You lied to me in the hospital about calling him. I don't understand what's going on with you. And now this. Do you realize how scared I was when I got here and saw the fire? I didn't know if you were alive or dead."

Alive or dead. That comment brings a bitter smile to the corners of my mouth. I can't help it. The irony of his statement is lost on him, of course. David doesn't understand.

I don't either, really. I close my eyes and fight back the panic. David rages on.

"What's the matter with you? Are you in shock? Is that why you're acting so crazy? I told Dr. Avery you shouldn't have been released from the hospital. It was too soon. After everything that happened, he should have kept you there longer. I should have insisted. Or I should have stayed here with you."

He looks and sounds as if he's just getting started, but I can't take anymore. I take a step back and hold up a hand. "This isn't helping, David. I'm sorry you were worried. I'm sorry I didn't call. I can't explain it. I don't want to. All I have energy for now is seeing if there's anything left of my life to salvage."

His face reddens, though I can't tell if it's because he's embarrassed or still angry. Suddenly, weariness washes over his features and I'm instantly ashamed of my outburst. He's been my friend and partner for two and a half years and I haven't even asked him how he is feeling. Of course, his house hadn't just burned to the ground. Still, in all the trauma of the last two days, I'd completely forgotten about David and that he was involved, too.

I take a tiny step toward him. "How are you? Why did you come back so soon? I didn't call you because I thought you'd be spending time with Gloria. I didn't mean for you to worry."

His expression shifts again, lines hardening around his mouth. "Turns out she had a modeling job in New York. She figured if she got me to LA, she could talk me into accompanying her. I told her I couldn't leave you-not with all that's happened."

He pauses, confusion softening the lines on his face. "But look at you, Anna. Two nights ago you were attacked by a psycho, yet here you are this morning, not a scratch on you and dressed as if you just came from a party. Your house is burning to the ground right in front of you, and so far, I haven't seen a glimmer of emotion."

I don't know how to respond to that. It doesn't matter, though, because he just keeps talking.

"I know what the problem is, Anna. It's that damned Dr. Avery. He let you leave the hospital before you were ready. You're still in shock and that quack should have known it, but did he care? I'm going to find Dr. Avery and when I do-"

I put a gentle hand on David's arm to stop the tirade. "It's not Dr. Avery's fault my house burned. And you may not want to hear this, but you're wrong about him. He's been-" I suddenly find myself groping for the right words. "Well, he's kind of taken care of me the last day or so."

"What?" The lines around his mouth become pronounced again as it twists into an exasperated frown. "He's been in touch with you?"

He's definitely been in touch with me. I nod.

"I can't believe his nerve. What was he doing? Covering his ass? He must know he made a mistake letting you leave the hospital.

He's not going to get away with this. This is malpractice at the very least. Anna, we're going to sue the hospital."

Now I'm the one suddenly overcome with weariness. I don't want to fight with him anymore, and I don't want to defend myself or Avery. I turn away from David and walk back toward what's left of my home.

One of my neighbors, a dentist with the gaudiest house on the block, calls my name, holding something out to me over the police barricade.

"Anna," he says. "What a mess, huh? Lucky the firemen got here so fast. I saw the smoke and called them, then got to work with a garden hose. Saved my house. Sorry I couldn't save yours. But take this. It's my architect's business card. He'll get you a place built in no time."

A place like his? It's beyond horrible. Still, I take the card and ball it into my fist. Maybe the guy is capable of building something other than the pink stucco monstrosity next door. I do have to think about that-

Another flash of movement and a voice in my head. Anna, what's happening?

I turn to see Avery coming across the street. I'd forgotten he was going to join me here. Unfortunately, David sees him, too. I'm not quick enough to warn Avery off, he runs smack into him.

David puts out a hand and shoves Avery back. "Don't go near her," he says. "I'm warning you. You've done enough damage."

I feel Avery tense, see the danger flash in his eyes.

Don't hurt him, Avery, I say. Please. Go on home, I'll catch up with you later.

Avery's eyes never leave David's face. He is standing so still, so utterly motionless, I fear he has shut me out. An almost primordial rage blazes out from him. While we were in the hospital, Avery put up with David. Here, he doesn't seem so inclined.

I try again. Avery. Please. He's my friend and he's worried about me. Let it go.

A long moment passes. Avery's eyes shift to meet mine. I feel his anger ease off, see the set of his shoulders relax. For you, he tells me. But your partner needs to learn respect.

He takes a step backward from David, and in that moment, I get to them. I put a hand on David's arm. "It's all right David. Let Dr.

Avery go. He just came to check up on me. He'll leave now."

The last was as much for Avery as for David. He bends his head in a single nod and steps away. Will you come to me later? he asks.

I will. I have to finish here first.

Avery says nothing to David, and simply turns on his heel and heads back in the direction he came. I know David has turned to me and is saying something but another voice, or rather, impression has interposed itself in my consciousness. It's there, nebulous and tentative, but as nerve jangling as a jolt of electricity.

I look around quickly to see where or who it's coming from, being careful to keep my own thoughts from projecting outward.

Someone is reaching out to probe my mind. Is it my anonymous friend from the other night?

I scan the crowd until I recognize a face. It appears for only a brief moment, and then it is swallowed up by the milling group of curiosity seekers gathered across the street.

It's only a glimpse, but I know. I feel it in my very bones.

Donaldson is here.

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