Dear Reader:

      I was a firefighter for three years in the 1980s. I was the only woman on the West Point Volunteer Fire Department of twenty men. I was the first to break the ice. I learned a lot about fire fighting and what it took to be good at it. As a writer I like to write what I know. That way, my story comes off as living and breathing for the reader. I have a great respect for the women and men firefighters of today. Back in the early 1980s a few courageous women were breaking down the doors of firefighting—proving that it wasn’t just a “man’s” job. In three years I think I saw it all. I won’t go into the gory details. But what I want is to infuse Deadly Silence with my knowledge of firefighting and the rigors and challenges that come with it. Most people live in a city and you don’t think twice about your fire trucks coming down asphalt streets.

      Out in rural areas where there are roads, dirt roads and off-vehicle trails, it puts a whole different perspective on firefighting; particularly in the winter and spring when roads get slick or they get so muddy it can actually stop a fire vehicle from advancing to where the structure fire is located. It’s heartbreaking. And I saw it happen. Owners of homes that burned to the ground because a fire truck and firefighters couldn’t get to it, get angry. They had a right to be upset. But when someone took out a rifle and started shooting at firefighters, that was a whole different ball of wax. When people lose their home, it’s devastating. For them and for the firefighters. Everyone feels helpless. And so, with my background in rural firefighting, I’ve used some of my experience to create this story.

      For my many Morgan’s Mercenary readers, you will get to meet the heroine of this book, Casey Cantrell, daughter of Alyssa Trayhern-Cantrell. I’m now writing about Alyssa and Noah’s children. I’ve written about all five of Morgan and Laura’s children so I can now write about the other children. Stay tuned; you may see some more of them popping up now and then in my newest saga-series, Jackson Hole, Wyoming. This is Book Three. If you haven’t read the rest, run to Harlequin.com and pick up Shadows from the Past (HQN, December 2009) and Deadly Identity (HQN, December 2010). I hope you enjoy this new series. Drop me a line at [email protected] or visit my website www.lindsaymckenna.com. You can also sign up at Facebook at: www.facebook.com/eileen.nauman. Happy July Fourth!

      Lindsay McKenna

      To the men I worked with as a

      volunteer firefighter in 1981–1983,

      West Point Volunteer Fire Department, West Point, Ohio. Chief Wayne Chamberlain, who was open to the first woman joining a twenty-man station.

       Lieutenant Gary Amato, ex-Air Force firefighter who supported and taught me so much about the business. Paul LaNeve, volunteer, who saved my life when a floor collapsed out from beneath me at a structure fire. And last but not least, my husband, David, who was the one who convinced me that I could be a firefighter. And this is dedicated to all men and women volunteer firefighters who will give their life to save others. Nowadays, women are welcomed into fire ranks across the U.S.A. You are all heroes in my eyes, regardless of gender.

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

      CHAPTER ONE

      MEGAN JERKED OUT OF A deep sleep. The six-year-old had heard a sound—“pop.” It momentarily startled her. She heard nothing else. Snuggling down in her bed with Elmo, her red Muppet, she closed her eyes once more.

      And then she smelled smoke. Was she dreaming? The Muppet clock with Big Bird on it read 3:00 a.m. Sitting up, Megan suddenly felt alarm. Smoke! She wasn’t dreaming! Her daddy was a firefighter. He and Mommy had taught her that if she smelled smoke she should run to the window and escape to safety. Their home was one story. Daddy had taught her how to open the window and climb out.

      Maybe she was dreaming. Megan slipped out of bed and clutched Elmo to her red-flannel nightgowned chest. A small night-light gave enough radiance to see her partially opened door. There was a haze of whitish smoke filtering into her room. Blinking, Megan stood in shock, gripping Elmo to her chest and staring