“You and James followed Maclean?” The room echoed with his shouting. Davis stood still, too still after his outburst.
It did sound preposterous. “We decided to follow him, to test whether my instincts were correct.” She was glad she hadn’t revealed the vision of the scar. Davis would’ve gone ballistic. “I’m not sure if he’s mixed up with the fire, but he isn’t what he seems.”
Davis picked up a pillow from the floor and threw it on the bed. “The whole time we’ve been together you’ve been playing investigator, following some crazy intuition. You wanted the excitement of being with an FI.”
She started to answer but something about the way Davis looked at her stopped her.
His face flushed and his voice was hard, rough. “What a joke. I thought you were different, we were different.”
His shoulders were hunched; his hands opened and closed in fists at his side, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let me see if I can I get this straight. You went to Belltown to look for a dangerous assailant, you were assaulted by a suspect, and you followed my boss. You did all of this without saying a word to me.”
“I told you about Belltown, and I was planning on telling you about the assault.”
Davis didn’t appear to hear what she had said. He moved toward the door then turned and faced her. “What kind of woman needs to interfere in a criminal investigation?”
She didn’t have a quick answer, how to explain a lifetime of hiding her gifts.
“I can’t do this, right now. I’m afraid I’m going to say something I’ll regret.” He reached for the doorknob.
“It sounds bad the way you put it, but I want you to know—I did it because I care for you.” Her voice quivered. “It might not be the way you would’ve handled it, but it doesn’t mean it was wrong.”
He turned toward her, shaking his head. “You should’ve told me the truth. I can’t stand women playing games. Daphne lied for weeks about sleeping with my best friend.”
She swallowed any apologies. He was comparing her to Daphne. If he couldn’t see the difference, there was no hope for them. “Where are my clothes?”
“I’ll get them. Where are you going?”
“Does it matter?”
“I need to know. You’re a witness. Your safety is at risk.”
“Bollocks. It was only when I was trying to protect you I got hurt.” She could feel her face getting hot from the anger simmering under her skin.
“You got hurt because you thought you could solve the crime. How can someone so smart be so stupid?”
The heat blazed in her chest as if she were breathing the hot smoke from the fire, burning her insides.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean that the way it came out.” He moved toward her as if he was going to touch her.
She backed away. “Everyone says that after making a nasty remark.”
Davis’ jaw clenched and his words were tight, enunciated, “I want Mitzi to stay with you to protect you.”
She bent and petted the poodle. “Sorry, girl, but I don’t need you to stay with me.”
Wrapped in the duvet, she walked toward the door, not looking at Davis. “The man accomplished what he set out to do. I’m intimidated and done investigating.”
Pulling the cover tightly, she walked into the bathroom. She needed to get out of Davis’ condo.
Davis followed behind her. “I want Mitzi to stay with you.”
She turned back with her chin raised. She used the same carefully enunciated tone he had used. “Thank you, but it just complicates matters. Contact me if there’s anything about the fire.”
She slammed the bathroom door.
Chapter Forty-Three
Davis bench-pressed the 245-pound bar, feeling the slow burn in his arms and heaviness in his chest—guilt and remorse over his total loss of control with Grayce.
Niles’ suggestion this morning that he remove himself from the investigation “because his personal feelings were involved” didn’t help his frame of mind.
He and Mitzi had run miles this morning, but he remained agitated, unable to sleep or stay in his condo. So, he tried to blot out his feelings by working out.
Maybe Niles was right and in this situation, he couldn’t maintain the detached perspective required of an investigator.
He paused between reps, lying back on the bench, trying to regroup. His sweaty T-shirt stuck to his back and the bench. He couldn’t shake the image of Grayce getting into the cab with Napoleon in her arms, refusing to look at him.
He had been much too harsh. He had actually told her he was glad she was frightened. He still couldn’t believe he had behaved like such a jerk.
His arms strained with each rep, his neck tensing. He relaxed into the blaze in his arms, the familiar pain was comforting—this was something he could control.
Did Grayce have any idea how close she had come to being killed? He would never forget finding her on the stretcher, gasping into an oxygen mask.
He rested. Only one set of reps left.
He thrived on order. Nothing in his life had been orderly since meeting Grayce Walters. He had never been so regularly agitated and over reactive.
He added a new rule to his list of rules of investigation—Never fall in love with a witness.
Grayce had proceeded blithely along, believing she was capable of stopping criminals. She had ventured into the heart of danger, looking for a violent misfit. The city was filled with drug dealers and addicts.
He lifted the bar over his head, allowing the slow simmer of his anger to burn away. At least James knew karate. The idea of Mr. Fashion confronting some thug might be entertaining if he didn’t know the threat involved.
“You bulking up to stop the next bastard who tries to stab you?” Chris Crosby, a climbing buddy and firefighter, stood over Davis, grinning. “Or you gonna let Mitzi take him down?”
He and Chris shared some sticky climbing experiences together.
“I’m trying to work out my theories on the investigation.”
Chris sat on the bench next to Davis. “You want another perspective?”
Chris had always been willing to listen to Davis process his investigations during their long slogs up the mountain.
Chris lay on the bench and lifted the weight above his chest. “Can we talk while working out? I’ve got to get back to work.”
Davis scanned the room to make sure no one could hear the discussion. He started his last rep, not looking at Chris. “I think the Russian mob hired Benson to burn the fire I’m investigating.”
Chris suspended the weight over his head, his face turned purple. “Shit, Davis. Are you trying to kill me? You can’t just drop A-bombs.”
Chris put the weight on the ground and sat facing Davis. “Rob Benson is a torch for hire? You gotta be kidding me. And for the Russians? You’re acting as if you’re oxygen deprived.”
Davis finished his last rep and sat up. “The guy who tried to stab me was possibly hired by the Russians.”
“I thought he was a drug addict.”
Davis had had no suspicions about the guy who tried to stab him until Grayce had maintained the street thug was a Russian hired gun. And Benson wouldn’t have threatened her unless she had ventured too close to the truth.
“I don’t have any proof, but it’s one theory. You remember Zach?”
“The FBI agent you brought to the Mt. Adams climb?”
“Zach told me that Russian organized crime moves heroin from Afghanistan through Russia to all different ports. It’s a hundred billion dollar business for them. What if the Russian mob is bringing heroin through Fisherman Terminal?”
Chris was shaking his head. “You’re crazy, man. This is Seattle.”
“The mob went to a lot of trouble to get me off the case of a small wharf fire, trying to stab me, poison my dog. Only adds up if heroin is coming through in crab cases.”
“But why start a fire on the wharf if they’ve got an operation there?” Chris asked.
>
“One of the many missing pieces in my theory. I don’t have a reason for the fire. All I know is that the fire was done by an experienced torch.”
“And you suspect Benson?”
“I went through our regular fire starters, and no one is that good, then I looked at fired firefighters. And Rob was at the top of the list for talent.”
“Rob was a good firefighter, but I can’t see him reliable enough to get the job done without complete supervision.”
“I agree. Someone else has to handle Rob. Someone Rob trusts, who can keep him in line.”
Chris leaned forward on his knees, closing the distance between them. “Who?”
Grayce’s house had been burned after she followed Maclean.
“I don’t know. Did Benson have anyone he was close to in the department?”
“Benson was a belligerent asshole. Everyone tolerated him because he was a damn good firefighter.”
“You’re right. Niles was his only ally.”
“What about the fire at your girlfriend’s house? Did Rob torch it, too?”
“Shit, I didn’t want everyone to know about Grayce. It puts her in danger if she’s connected to me and the wharf fire.”
Chris stood and hit Davis on the back. “Everyone knows the story of how you picked her up from the stretcher and carried her into the night.”
Davis wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He stood and walked to the small weights.
Chris followed Davis to the weight table. “Hey, I was just giving you crap. Do you think Rob lit her house?”
Davis didn’t have a motive for Benson burning Grayce’s house. She couldn’t identify Benson as the torch on the wharf; it had been too dark. But Benson wouldn’t know that.
Davis started his biceps curls. “The Russians might want to intimidate the witness. Except she didn’t see anything.” He didn’t tell Chris that Grayce’s investigating adventures might have gotten the mob’s attention.
Chris stood next to Davis with a hand weight and started to do curls. “You’ve got to bring in the feds.”
There was no way he was stepping aside in this investigation, not after an ex-firefighter had gone after his girlfriend. Davis uncurled his arm. From his assessment of her house fire, Benson hadn’t planned to kill Grayce, just scare her. But fire wasn’t something you could carefully manage. He curled his arm tightly. He was going to get the bastard, and, when he did, Benson would suffer.
“You’re getting the same look as on the mountain when you’re about to do something dangerous,” Chris said.
Davis switched arms. “I’m going to involve Dan at ATF. Dan will give me some moving room to go after Benson and his possible connections to the department.”
He wasn’t going to mention his suspicions to Chris or Dan about Maclean. He needed more proof than Grayce’s allegation. He just couldn’t see Maclean involved with the mob, but Grayce said he had gambling problems.
“This is some heavy shit. You better let the feds go after the Russians. You don’t want ’em coming after your girlfriend.”
Davis wasn’t going to leave Grayce unprotected. He would alert the police and Dan. Mitzi would be her guard dog. Hollie would help him get Mitzi in her office. He probably should talk with James about no more adventures. Grayce wouldn’t like it, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Until this was over, he would be the only one investigating.
They needed to come after him.
* * *
Grayce slept most of the day on James’ couch. Exhausted and needing solitude, she spent the day wrapped in James’ silk bathrobe napping on his plush leather couch. Napoleon slept in a cocoon of the shiny red fabric at Grayce’s feet.
“Have some more Swimming Rama. Carbs are best for a broken heart; they release some sort of hormone that’s supposed to make you feel good.” James reclined on the matching leather couch. Beer bottles and paper cartons were piled high on the Noguchi glass coffee table.
“I don’t have a broken heart. Someone tried to kill me and burn my house down and Davis…”
“Whatever you say, Darlin’. Your house is going to be fine. I’ll take you over tomorrow when you’ve rested. Honestly, there isn’t that much damage. I’ll get someone out there to rebuild your door and deck.”
“Davis planned to take me over to my house.” Her voice quivered.
“This is a little reminiscent of high school.” James reached for the carry-out. “Remember when Tom Manyak broke your heart. We had a sad-in and lit candles.”
“Hearts mended quicker back then.”
“Yeah, it must’ve taken a whole week before you recovered.”
She really must be in bad shape, since James wasn’t offering love advice. He usually relished such moments.
“Where am I going to live?”
“With your parents?”
They both laughed, her first true laugh of the evening. Maybe it was the Thai beer she guzzled with her Swimming Rama and Tom Kha Gai.
“My mom wants me to move back into my old bedroom, can you imagine?”
“And of course, you couldn’t say no?”
“My mom’s been really helpful, handling the whole insurance thing and organizing the cleaning.”
James raised his eyebrows. He understood her guilt about frightening her parents.
“Something in my mom’s voice…she was happy that I had asked her to do something. She wants to be needed.”
“I know, honey. You’ve spent a lot of time making up for Cassie dying.”
Grayce sighed. She was doing a lot of sighing today.
“You are going to stay here, and his majesty is invited as well.”
Napoleon flicked his gigantic tail.
“Thanks, Jamesie. I can’t stay here, but if you could keep Nap.”
The marmalade cat stood, stretched, and folded himself back into the same curl.
“We boys can manage.”
James and Napoleon both pretended indifference to each other when Grayce was around. James gave Napoleon run of the designer condo. When James’ architecture company had developed the building, James had picked the top floor condo.
“Promise me you won’t move home.”
“I’m going to sleep on the futon in my office.”
“That’s dreadful.”
James loved his creature comforts, as evidenced by his extravagant penthouse.
“I’ve slept there before. It’s not bad.”
The feeling of gloom descended around her like the fog settling over Puget Sound. She wanted to go home to her own little nest.
“My entire set of Louis Vuitton luggage is filled with your stuff. You should stay here.”
“I can’t.” Grayce shook her head.
Her whole life had abruptly changed. Everything she took pride in—her house, her independence, gone. She was the one who took care of people—she disliked feeling dependent on her parents, on James. “I won’t be good company.”
“So? I’m not good company either.” He threw back the beer.
“I can’t. I need some time alone.”
“Honey, this isn’t the time to be alone. You need…”
“I don’t know what I need. That’s part of the problem.”
“I know what you need or should I say who…”
Grayce shook her head. “It’s over. Davis went ballistic about my interference in his investigation; I thought he might strangle me.”
“All that male animal stuff, I love it. Think about the make-up sex.”
The usual James banter fell flat.
“James, it was more than an argument.”
She stirred, causing Napoleon to jump down from the couch. Davis’ anger made her restless. “Davis couldn’t understand my not confiding in him. He saw it as total dishonesty.”
James nodded again. “Daphne?”
Her stomach ached. Eating Thai food and drinking beer might not have been the best choice.
“Baggage,” James said.
“What?�
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“He doesn’t trust you because of Daphne, and you’re afraid to trust anyone because you might lose them like Cassie. Mutual distrust, a recipe for failure.”
She gulped the cold beer.
“Why can’t you call him and explain? Tell him the truth about your abilities.”
“You don’t understand. Davis is roaring mad at me. I’m not sure I want someone who can’t listen.”
“Give the guy a break. He rescued you. The next morning he finds out you, his witness, has been threatened—kind of hard for an in-charge, macho guy to hear. You know you blind-sided him.” James took a long chug on the beer. “I feel like such a man when I drink out of the bottle.”
“Davis thundered around, acting like something out of an old Tarzan movie.”
They both laughed. Maybe the beer was having an effect.
“From his viewpoint, you tried to cut his balls off.”
“It’s just like you to bring male anatomy into the discussion.”
“He gets paid to protect people. And you told him you could do his job better.”
“I was trying to protect him.” She couldn’t put a lot of feeling into her basic defense, and James’ attitude was getting on her nerves.
“You know that isn’t the reason. You’re afraid to let anyone know.”
A hollow pit formed in Grayce’s stomach and moved upward into her heart.
“Honey, you really like the guy. You’ve got to take the leap.”
“He was very clear; he thought it was insane that we followed his boss.”
“He doesn’t know you have special gifts. From his perspective, you’re invading his domain. Men don’t like that—it threatens their maleness.”
She forgot that James had a male’s viewpoint.
“It’s not a great example, but what if Mitzi were really sick, and Davis didn’t tell you, and he went off and treated her himself?”
“It isn’t the same.”
“What’s the difference?” James reached for more of the lemon grass soup.
“I can’t tell him about my vision and premonitions, not after last night. I just can’t. He’ll never believe it. I was ready to tell him but I knew, deep down, he’d never accept it.”
An Inner Fire Page 22