by Freya Barker
“I’ll keep an eye out for them. And, Cap? Thanks.”
She’s still looking at me when I end the call. “What was that?”
I crouch back down beside the dog, who lets me scratch his head. “The fire is out, but the cops will likely want a word with you. And me,” I add quickly. “My crew found remains.”
Her eyes go big. “Remains?”
“A body.”
Tahlula
“You don’t have to hang around, you know.”
I’m being rude and I know it, but learning a dead person was found a mere walk away from my house has me more than a little on edge.
After all, I don’t know him from Adam. He’s attractive and I offered him a drink, but it never occurred to me to ask him how he came to be on the trail. I’m usually a very cautious person, especially since receiving those messages back in Denver, but even the few months living here have obviously lowered my guard. News of a dead body snapped it right back in place and now I’m wondering.
Luke, the traitor, is curled up at Evan’s feet on my porch. Just a week ago his hackles had gone up, and he’d been growling at the man, and now he behaves like he’s found his new best friend. Of course he did make the dog feel better, knowing to cool off his superficial burns with running water. Surely, if the man had nefarious intentions, he wouldn’t have bothered with my dog, or jumped to my aid for that matter.
Jesus, I’m giving myself a headache.
“Might as well,” he finally responds, looking at me quizzically. I can’t blame him; he must think I’m mentally unstable. “They’re likely to have questions for me too.”
“What were you doing up here?” flies out of my mouth, and I wince when I see shock on his face, right before an impassive mask slams down over his features.
“I heard the call go out. I carry a scanner on my days off.” His tone is suddenly curt and icy cold.
In the uncomfortable silence that follows, I sneak a peek to find him staring off into the distance, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Look, I didn’t mean to—” I start, but the dark look he throws me has the words shriveling up in my throat.
“Sure you did.”
At the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive, he jumps to his feet and heads down the steps to meet the red pickup, with the fire department logo on the side, pulling up. Luke is at the top of the steps, growling, and I quickly grab him by the collar and shove him inside.
Evan is standing beside the truck with the older man I now know as Cap, having a hushed conversation that stills the moment I get within earshot.
“Ma’am.” Cap nods at me. A whole sight more agreeable than he was earlier, he holds out his hand. It’s tempting to ignore it, given the way he blew me off earlier, but good sense wins out. I may need someone in the fire department on my side out here, now that I’ve managed to piss off Evan.
“Sir,” I greet him in kind.
“Call me Cap,” he says, a big grin cracking open the soot-covered face. “I’m just stopping by to let Biel here know the forensics unit has just arrived at the scene, so it’ll likely be a while before anyone comes around to talk to you.” He turns back to Evan. “Still enough daylight to finish helping your mother get the rest of her garden in. I told Blackfoot he should check there if you weren’t at home later.”
Now I really feel bad. I’d all but accused the guy when he’d been nothing but nice to me; making sure the house was safe, pulling me from the creek, and caring for my dog. Now I find out he was helping his mother?
“I should head back to the station and clean up before the next call comes in,” Cap announces, clapping a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “You, I don’t wanna see ‘til Tuesday morning. Turn that fucking scanner off. Pardon my French,” he quickly adds, grinning at me.
I wave him off. “I speak the language,” I return, making his grin bigger.
The moment he turns the vehicle and heads down the drive, Evan stalks to his truck. I have to jog to catch up with him. “Hold on.” When I put a hand on his arm, he swings around.
“What?” he snaps, and I immediately let go of him. The flash of anger in his eyes is quickly replaced with a weary look as he runs both hands over his short-cropped hair. “I think it’s best if I go,” he says in a much gentler tone.
“Let me apologize for what I implied earlier first.” I wait until he gives me a barely distinguishable nod before I continue. “You’ve given absolutely no reason for me to think you’d have anything to do with that fire. In fact, quite the opposite.” I lower my eyes from his intense gaze and focus on the toes of his shoes. I’m no longer able to see my own. “These past few months, I’ve…” I stop myself before I share more than I need to. “Never mind. Let’s just say I’m a tad jumpy. Maybe it’s hormones,” I add, rubbing a hand over my belly as I look up.
His gaze drops down following the movement. “How far along?” he asks, lifting his eyes.
“Six months. Twenty-five weeks to be precise.”
“More than halfway there,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t think you were that far along.”
“You have experience with pregnant women?” I’m only partly joking, the rest of me is actually curious. I know nothing about him but his name, where he works, and he obviously cares a great deal about his mother.
“I’m a paramedic too,” he explains, and he looks like he has more to say but then seems to think better of it. “I do really need to get going.”
I can’t help feeling disappointed at his statement. I don’t know what I want, but I don’t like the idea of him leaving. “Of course.”
For a moment he seems to hesitate, then he reaches for the wallet in his back pocket and pulls out a ratty-looking business card, handing it to me. “In case of…” He shakes his head as if to clear it. “In case. That’s a direct line to the station and my cell is on the back. No more running into fires and jumping creeks again, okay?”
There’s a sound of finality in his words that makes me sad. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”
One side of his mouth pulls up in a lopsided grin that melts my insides. Damn. Then he reaches out and tugs on a stray curl.
“Take care of yourself, Tahlula.”
Yup. Definitely goodbye.
5
Evan
“So what’s with you and the knockout?”
I know Sumo’s trying to get a rise out of me, so I give him a look and turn my back, ignoring him as I hose down the engine.
He has other ideas, however. “Does that mean you’re not interested? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind taking a shot at that.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if I cracked a molar; I’m grinding my teeth so hard.
It had been hard, leaving her standing in the driveway on Saturday, but I convinced myself it was for the best. She may live alone, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a man. After all, she’s six months pregnant; last check that still requires two people.
Her sudden mistrust of me had not sat well either. One moment, she offered me a drink while she hopped in the shower, and the next I was defending myself against the suggestion I was using a racial slur. My explanation seemed to satisfy her, but just minutes later she looked at me like I was responsible for the fire. For a dead body, for fuck’s sake.
Sure, her apology seemed genuine enough, but if she’s that easily suspicious, what’s to say the same thing won’t happen over and over again?
The trouble is, I barely know the woman and already I feel an attachment to her.
It took a visit from Keith Blackfoot Sunday morning to get me doubting my decision. The cops and the fire investigator apparently had been busy at the scene well into the night, hauling in large spotlights to help them see. He didn’t share much about what they found, just that they’d know more after the coroner completed the autopsy on Monday morning.
They didn’t get around to questioning Tahlula until earlier that morning, and when Keith asked if she was a friend, I told him I ba
rely knew her. I felt like a Judas the moment the words left my mouth, and guilty ever since.
Sumo’s taunt pours salt in that wound, and then he starts rubbing.
“Been dreaming about those lips, all those freckles. The woman just begged to be—” The smug smile on his face drops when I swing around and grab him by the shirt, shoving him up against the rig.
“Whoa. Easy, brother.”
“A little respect. Brother,” I hiss in his face. “That woman is six months pregnant.”
“Is it yours?”
“Break it up, ladies,” Cap’s voice sounds behind me. “Fucking hands to yourself, Cheddar, and Sumo, learn to keep that trap shut, kid.”
I let my hand drop but don’t step back, staying in his space. “No. It’s. Not,” I enunciate through clenched teeth as the smile creeps back on his face.
“Then what do you care?”
This time Cap intervenes before I can get my hands on Sumo, wrapping an arm around me from behind and yanking me back.
“Jesus H. Christ, you two are as bad as my kids,” Cap grumbles, as he hauls me by the arm inside the station and into the office, slamming the door shut. “Sit your ass down.”
Cap may not have the sunniest disposition, but he rarely gets pissed. Already I’m regretting losing my temper, letting Sumo get under my skin. I don’t have siblings, but I imagine he’s like a pesky younger brother. Normally I have no trouble letting the teasing and taunting slide off my back, but I guess he caught me on a bad day. A bad couple of days.
“Got the report from the inspector,” Cap says when I finally sit, and tosses a paper across the desk.
I pick it up and scan it. Jesus. It’s not a surprise fuel was used as an accelerant—I got a hint of it on the trail—but the fire had spread out from the body. Someone had doused the victim with fuel and set it on fire. I hope to fucking God he was already dead.
“Blackfoot is on his way.” I lift my eyes from the report to find him looking at me. “Apparently the autopsy report came back as well. He’s got some more questions for ya.”
“Me? Are you shitting me? Again?”
Already riled, it doesn’t take much for my blood to get to boiling. Already at the center of an arson investigation once—which by the way, I didn’t have a damn thing to do with—I can’t believe how quickly I find myself in the middle of another one.
“Calm your tits, will ya?” Cap leans over the desk before he says in a carefully measured voice, “Not sure what’s gotten into you, but get it under control. Don’t need you flying off the handle with our brothers in blue. They’ve got a job to do, like the rest of us.”
“Gotcha,” I grind out when the door behind me opens.
“All yours,” Cap says, getting up as Keith Blackfoot comes walking in.
“Evan,” the detective says as the door clicks shut, and he takes Cap’s seat across the desk.
“Keith.” I’m trying to get a read on the man’s mood but it’s no use. The only time Blackfoot doesn’t wear his stoic poker face is when he looks at his wife or their son.
“Got the reports back this morning. I have a few follow-up questions.” He leans his elbows on the desk and tents his fingers under his chin.
“So I hear.”
“A couple of days ago you mentioned you found Ms. Rae trying to climb up the bank of the creek on the side of the fire, is that correct?”
“Yes, she was going after her dog.”
“Right,” he says, sitting back and folding his hands behind his head. “So she says.” The hackles on my neck stand up at that statement, but I hold my tongue. “Where was she? When you first made eye contact, what did you see?”
I do my best to keep my tone even. “She was half out of the water, reaching for a tree root, when I yelled out, startling her. She fell back and landed on her ass in the water.”
“I see. You said you pulled her up?”
“Yes.”
“Did you notice anything unusual?”
“Other than a pregnant woman on her ass in the creek? No.”
“Could you smell the fire?”
“Smoke, yes, and I may have gotten a hint of fuel.” At this Keith shoots forward.
“From her?”
I lean forward as well, matching Blackfoot’s pose with arms crossed on the desk. “No. Not from her. I don’t know where your mind is going, but you’re pissing up the wrong tree.”
“You sure?”
My fingers dig into my arms in an attempt to control myself. “Positive,” I bite off.
“Would you say it’s possible, when you first saw her, she was coming down that creek bank instead of going up it?”
“No,” I tell him firmly. “She was reaching up, lifting her body out of the water.”
He leans back again, appearing to be lost in thought when he suddenly changes direction. “You mentioned she took a shower right away when you got to her place.”
“She was wet, muddy—yes, she wanted to take a shower. I could’ve used one myself.” It’s not hard to see where this is going, but I force myself to stay calm and answer the questions.
“And when the dog came back, was it her idea to wash down the dog as well?”
I finally lose my battle. “Jesus, Blackfoot! The woman is six months pregnant, and you think she somehow hauled a body off into the woods and set it on fire?”
“Answer the question, Evan,” he calmly responds.
“The dog had burns on his muzzle and in his mouth. I’m the one who went for the hose to cool him down.”
His eyes drift over my shoulder, as he seems to stare blindly. “That makes sense,” he finally mumbles before turning back to me. “Winds seemed to have moved the fire away from the victim, who was found at the edge with one arm outstretched. The coroner found bite marks on that arm—postmortem.”
“The dog tried to rescue him.”
“That’s what it looks like. Except our vic is an adult woman somewhere between thirty and fifty. There’s little else the coroner can tell since there wasn’t much left of the woman’s face. Given the state of the remains, identification won’t be easy.”
Jesus. That’s a gruesome picture he paints. I think of Tahlula up on that mountain alone. “Better not have shared that kind of detail with Tahlula when you questioned her.”
“Haven’t been back up there yet. Thought I’d first see what questions you could help me clear up before I bothered her again.” The man’s stern face melts into a grin, and I get the feeling I’ve been played. “She didn’t exactly strike me as the murdering kind when I spoke to her.”
“Why the third degree?” I want to know.
Keith shrugs his shoulders. “Because I needed to make sure I could eliminate her. You always begin a murder investigation with the most obvious, usually spouse or family. Since the vic in this case is unknown, you start with geographic proximity. You have to clear the path before you can see your way to the truth. I also don’t feel half as bad badgering you, as I would doing the same to her,” he adds.
“Gee, thanks.”
We sit in silence for a while when Blackfoot finally asks, “So what’s with you and Tahlula Rae?”
Tahlula
“Ten boxes?”
“Three hundred books,” Jaimie confirms. “They all need to be signed and shipped through to the address I mailed you.”
I look around my house, visualizing three hundred books covering every available surface. “Do I have to?”
“Yes. It’s stipulated in your contract. Every summer your publisher sends off a promotional book box. You did this last year, remember?”
I groan. “Yes, but last year you had the books in your office, and all I had to do was come in for a couple of hours.”
“Quit whining,” Jaimie admonishes sternly. “It’s good promotion.”
“Whatever. Courier them over.”
“Are you going to be around on Thursday or Friday?”
“Thursday probably, but Friday I have a few appointments
. Just have them leave the boxes on the porch. No one comes out here anyway.” At least no one looking to steal a shipment of books—just someone looking to dump a body. “There was a small wildfire half a mile north of me on the weekend,” I feel compelled to share.
I hear Jaimie inhale sharply. “That close? Jesus, T, are you safe there?”
“Yeah, not to worry. The fire department was up here quickly and had the fire out in no time.” A flash of Evan’s lopsided grin as he tugged on my hair invades my mind. I tried—and failed—to put him out of my head, but he pops back in way too easily. For a moment I’m tempted to share about them finding a body, but decide not to let her worry more than she already does.
“Just be careful, please,” she pleads. “On the four hours of sleep I manage a night, I can’t handle more drama.”
“Is River still not sleeping through the night?”
“Hell, no. He likes his momma’s boob too much. To be honest, I enjoy the few times I still get to nurse him. With me back at work, nighttime is the only chance I have.”
“What about Rob? Can’t he take over for one night to give you a break?”
Jaimie’s husband is a hot button topic. From what Lena told me, he is an absolute misogynistic asshole, who’d rather have his wife barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, and is still pissed she kept working after they got married. He must be a fucking star in bed, because I can’t imagine any other reason the outspoken Jaimie I know would be hooked to a man like that.
“Doubtful, even if I knew how the hell to get hold of him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s supposed to be building some kind of hunting retreat up in Montana with a bunch of his buddies…” She almost spits out the last, making it clear she doesn’t think much of the company he keeps. “…for the next two months. Apparently, they don’t have cell reception up there, because his phone goes straight to voicemail and he hasn’t returned a single call.”