Through The Window

by Wendy Campbell

  “Jordan, I—”

  “Need to sit down,” he finished, lowering her to the ground.

  She sank onto the edge of the sidewalk. He sat next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She looked at the ruined, charred remains that signified the end of a dream. Her dream. The one she’d worked so hard to make come true. Mick had done this. The bastard had ruined her future.

  The spark of fury inside her exploded, burning away the fog. “The son-of-a-bitch. I’ll make him pay for this.” She jumped to her feet, ready to race to her car. When she found him she’d—hell, she didn’t know what she’d do, but he would regret this.

  Jordan grabbed her arm.

  “Let go.” She pulled free. “I have to find—”

  He gave her a little shake. “Who?”

  Reality washed over her like ice water. What had she done? She rubbed her arms, trying frantically to think. If she told him about Mick, everything would come pouring out. He’d know about the things she’d done. The murder, the robberies and all those times she hadn’t been smart or quick enough to defy Mick. Jordan would not only despise her, he’d hate her. Once he knew what she’d done, he’d never look at her the same way. She needed to fix this.

  Praying it looked casual, she shrugged. “I don’t know,” she whispered and looked away. “The thought of the fire being investigated, of the possibility of arson, threw me. I just assumed it’d be a man.” Shit. She couldn’t even look at him.

  Jordan gripped her chin and turned her face toward him. “Do you know who did this?”

  Chills raced up and down her body, but she shook her head. All she knew—for sure—was that Mick had something to do with a fire. That he’d said she’d pay.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure?” When she nodded, he asked, “Do you have any idea who might be responsible?”

  She shook her head because it was easier than lying with words. “Are they sure it’s arson?”

  “Looks like it. They want to talk to you. Ready?” Jordan’s voice was quiet and reserved.

  Something inside her wilted. She brushed at the soot on her clothes as he got to his feet. He didn’t believe her, and he was putting a distance between them. No, she corrected herself as she got to her feet. She was putting distance between them, because she couldn’t tell him the truth.

  “Sorry about the dirt.”

  “It’s okay.”

  He draped an arm around her as they walked toward the edge of the fire, where the others were talking. “You can trust me,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”

  She nodded, but didn’t say anything. How had she forgotten, even for an instant, that she couldn’t trust anyone? She’d fooled herself into believing this was different, Jordan was different. This mistake could cost her everything.

  Jordan halted before they reached the inspectors. “When you’re done, go back to my place and clean up. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” Was the coolness in his tone her imagination?

  “Miss Quinn?” The inspector was in his mid-fifties, with short-cropped, salt and pepper hair. The hard edge in his look told her he’d probably heard every excuse more than once. Her palms started to sweat.

  ****

  Jordan left Mel with the inspector and returned to the cleanup. He worked on autopilot, digging for hotspots, evaluating the charred remains. They’d arrived second in, with flames visible. His adrenaline morphed into that unnerving calm, readying him for battle. One of the volunteer teams barely escaped out the back before the structure collapsed. Despite his exhaustion, his senses were on alert.

  Melanie Quinn was lying. No question about it. The burn of her betrayal hurt more than he wanted to admit. This arson—obvious, considering the gas cans left in the parking lot—was directed at her. He suspected it while they battled the flames, knew when she as good as admitted it.

  The flat, empty hose slid through his hands as he worked. Mel was lying, but he still had an overwhelming desire to keep her safe. That wasn’t just an excuse to keep her with him, he told himself. Fire, arson, they’d burned him before. Old memories found their way into his head and he struggled to shut them out.

  “Hey, Stone, where are you going?”

  Jordan looked up to see Middleton shooting him a “what the hell?” look. He was carrying their hose to Engine 3. Jordan just shook his head and took the hose to their rig.

  As he loaded the hose in a neat, accordion stack, he remembered the B&Es Roger described. He remembered the bruises and scrapes, when she said she bounced down the stairs, the car that raced away while he waited on her porch. He had an uncomfortable feeling they were all connected.

  This hurt her. Her dream, her career, everything she’d worked so hard for, had just gone up in flames. Why would she hold out?

  Jordan removed the wheel chocks and started the rig. As they pulled out, he could see Mel talking with the inspector. She didn’t even look his way.

  ****

  “I’m Burt Newcastle. I need to ask you a couple questions. Let’s go over here.” He steered Mel to a quiet spot behind the vehicle.

  She leaned her back against the post of a streetlight because her legs were still shaky.

  “You worked at this building, correct?” He made a couple notes.

  She cleared her throat and straightened her spine. “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “About a month.”

  “When were you last in the building?”

  “Yesterday afternoon. I was in Denver before that.”

  “Was anyone in the building with you?”

  “Nicholas Barnett. He’s the manager. Cassandra Calloway ran the front desk. I interviewed three applicants.” So far, so good.

  He made more notes. “Where is Mr. Barnett now?”

  “Oregon. He left last night to visit the branch office in Eugene. He’s supposed to be back tomorrow.”

  “Would you be the primary contact for the insurance company?” Though his face was blank, his gaze remained intense.

  “I don’t think so. It’s probably our main office in Denver. I can give you their information.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  He asked her questions about Schuster, about the other branches, and if anyone had recently been terminated or passed over for promotion.

  “No,” she said, answering his last question. “Not locally. I haven’t even turned down any applicants yet. We did have a recent theft situation in Denver, but the employee was arrested and hasn’t been released.”

  “Can you tell me the condition of the building when you left?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Were you the last person inside?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you lock the doors and check the windows when you left?”

  “Yes, I locked up like usual. I didn’t notice anything out of place.”

  She answered questions about what supplies were in the different rooms and told him the name of the contractor. “There were a few tools in the front office on the right. They were small enough to carry, but I don’t know exactly what they were.”

  He made more notes and was silent so long she wondered if he’d forgotten she was there.

  “Thank you, Miss Quinn.” He held out a business card. “If you think of anything I should know, call me immediately. The investigation might take a while, and often questions come up during the process. I might need to talk to you again.”

  “Of course,” she said with a small smile. She gave him her cell number and address, hoping she never heard from him again. As she walked away, she could feel him watching her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  She drove directly to Jordan’s house, surprised to find it was after one. When she thought of eating, her stomach rolled with a wave of nausea. Hoping the fresh air would clear her head and settle her stomach, she sank on the porch steps and called Nicholas. He sounded exactly like she felt, shocked that this could happen. In les
s than a minute, he hung up with a promise to head back immediately.

  She ignored her tears and went inside to take a shower. As she lathered Jordan’s shampoo through her hair, she heard a quick rap on the bathroom door. Her heart hammered, and she pulled the shower curtain to the side to peek out. Jordan stood there in shorts and a sweat-stained T-shirt.

  “You didn’t shower at the station?” she asked, wiping at the soap dripping toward her eye.

  “No. I wanted to get back here as soon as I could. Do you mind sharing?” He pulled his shirt off.

  “It depends.” Somehow, she managed a lighthearted, plucky smile. “Do you hog the water?”

  “Usually, but I’ll make an exception.” He slipped off his shorts, taking his navy blue underwear with them. He obviously had more on his mind than washing up.

  The instant he stepped in, he took her in his arms, and she tried not to cry again. She didn’t want to leave the Valley, but how could she avoid it? Steven would call her back to Denver. If they caught Mick and proved him responsible for the fire, he’d plea-bargain and tell them all of her secrets. If she confessed now, she’d probably have gray hair when she got out of prison. Or she could take the coward’s way out, run back to Denver and hope for the best.

  Any way she looked at it, Jordan wouldn’t be part of her near future, possibly her future at all. And she loved him, had for as long as she could remember. The fire and questioning wore her out, and now Jordan’s tenderness slowly demolished the last of her defenses. With smooth, soft strokes, his fingers ran over her spine. She raised her head to kiss him. Shampoo followed his hands down her body, making her heat from the inside out.

  “Jordan, I want you.”

  “I want you, too, but I have a couple things to say first.” All the while, his hands soothed, inflamed.

  “Later.” She ran her wet hands through his hair.

  He gripped her forearms and lowered them. “Now.”

  The seriousness in his voice made her nervous, so she tried to lighten the mood. “We’ll run out of hot water.” She kissed him again. “I hear cold water can do unfortunate things to a man.”

  He didn’t even smile. “Mel, I didn’t expect this, whatever this is, between us. I didn’t want it.”

  “Don’t,” she whispered and stroked his cheek. “Please. Not now. We can talk later.”

  He shook his head. “I told you at the beginning that I wouldn’t let things get serious. I meant it. Even so, I’m asking you to trust me, to tell me anything you know. Will you?”

  She knew Jordan didn’t love her, never would. Hiding the hurt behind bravado, she smiled. “I told the investigator everything I knew.” But nothing of what she suspected.

  “You’re holding something back. What?”

  Her defenses snapped back into place. Only one thing would make him understand that she was done with the questions. “Jordan.” She looked him straight in the eye. “What did you do when you left the Valley, before you became a firefighter?”

  His dropped his gaze. “I told you, this and that. It’s history and has nothing to do with this.”

  “I need to know.”

  Now his gaze snapped to hers. “I need to know who started the fire.”

  Yep, his past was off limits, but he expected her to reveal every dark, terrible secret she had. The injustice made her want to scream. Instead, she gave him a level stare. “So do I. When you find out let me know, okay?”

  His heavy sigh made it clear he got the message.

  Trying to funnel her anger into passion, she reached up and kissed him hard. This might be the last time they’d be together, and she intended to make the most of it.

  By the time they got out of the shower, the water had gone cold. She felt sated and exhausted. Jordan’s bed looked soft and comfortable. Safe. Jordan was still in the bathroom and she could hear water running. She wrapped the towel around her, tucked in the edge, and lay down.

  When she opened her eyes, the room was dark. She lay on her side with a warm body fitted snugly to her back. The sound of Jordan’s soft breathing whispered in her ear, his chest rose and fell against her back. The comforting weight of his arm wrapped around her. She memorized the unique male scent of his body, the smooth feel of the sheets against her skin, the way the hairs scattered on his chest lightly tickled her back. The windows were open, and she could hear the night sounds of crickets, frogs, and once, an owl. The red baseball hat, barely visible in the dim light, perched on the stuffed sheepdog. Charm made a little yip in her sleep, and Mel knew the puppy would be happy here.

  The bedside clock read 10:15 p.m. She’d slept the day away, but she didn’t care. With a contented sigh, she wrapped her fingers around Jordan’s arm and fell back asleep.

  When she woke again, her arm tingled. Trying not to disturb him, she slowly rolled to her back, and saw his eyes were open. Without a word, she shifted so she was on top of him. They made love twice that night, but each time she could feel the wall between them growing.

  The alarm went off at 6:30 a.m., but Mel had been awake for hours. While Jordan took a shower, she made breakfast. The eggs she’d planned to make over-easy became scrambled. The orange juice spilled on the counter, and she dropped the forks. Dread and foreboding kept trying to creep in, but she fought them back. She wouldn’t ruin one minute of what she’d come to think of as her unattainable dream life. It wasn’t only the lovemaking. It was chatting over breakfast, seeing his face light up when she walked into the room—although that probably wouldn’t happen anymore. The ordinary suddenly seemed so special, because it wasn’t going to last.

  To her relief, he didn’t ask any more questions before he left for work. In fact, he barely said goodbye, but she couldn’t blame him. After he left, she dialed the Denver office.

  “It’s about time I heard from you,” Steven roared into the phone. “What have you been doing, playing tiddlywinks?”

  “They suspect arson. Do you know anyone who has a grudge against Schuster, who would do something like this? The investigator asked.”

  “There are always people with a grudge against us for one reason or another. It’s the nature of HR.” His voice lowered to a normal volume.

  “I know, but can you think of anyone specific, anyone who made threats?”

  “If someone wanted revenge, they’d get it here, not in Washington.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. It could have been kids or an accident. How are things there?”

  “Horrible. The insurance company is giving the legal department problems. It’ll take weeks to sort everything out, and that’s the best-case scenario.” She could almost see Steven leaning forward in his chair, his old face twisting in anger. “I haven’t been able to replace Curt, and I need you here. I’ll have Shirley handle the arrangements. I want you back before the end of the week.”

  Mel fought to control the surge of panic that swept over her. “I can’t leave yet. The investigator told me to stay in town a few weeks in case they have more questions.” Although the investigator hadn’t said that exactly, it’d been implied.

  “Nicholas will be there.”

  “Nicholas wasn’t here when the fire happened. That’s why they need me.” She hoped that was true. “Did Nicholas talk to you about going ahead with the office in a temporary setup?”

  “Forget it. You’ve had nothing but problems.”

  “We already have contracts lined up and the process work was nearly complete. The Tech Team set us up for automatic backups to the Denver servers, so we’re still good to go.”

  “How come the Oregon branch isn’t having any problems? They’re on schedule.”

  She didn’t have an answer, and when she hung up, nothing was resolved. Nicholas called and asked her to meet him for lunch at The Hungry Belly. That’d give her time to swing by the cabin and boot Mick’s ass out the door.

  She didn’t get the chance. Mick was gone, along with everything she owned that he could pawn.

  ****

&n
bsp; Jordan completed the morning procedures, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the arson. He’d gone through his mental checklist, the one he created when he was in the arson unit in California, but only one thing was certain. Melanie was the reason and the key. He’d tried to put her at ease, to prove she could trust him, but it hadn’t worked. Knowing she wouldn’t level with him, knowing he couldn’t keep her safe, made him crazy.

  “Hey, bro.”

  Jordan looked up from the aid kit he’d been inventorying. If anyone could find out what he needed to know, it would be his brother. “Hey Rog, I need your help.”

  “Sure. Any word on the arson?”

  “Not officially.” The two men walked outside, and Roger listened while Jordan explained exactly what happened.

  “I hate to tell you…”

  “You told me so. I know, and I don’t give a shit. I need your help.” Jordan took a deep breath. “Please.”

  “A gut feeling isn’t much to go on.” Roger took out a pack of Juicy Fruit, offered a piece to Jordan, who shook his head.

  “Will you do a background check? See if she filed restraining orders or called the cops on an old boyfriend, any calls for domestic disputes, you know the drill.”

  “I could, but I’m sure the inspector is doing the same thing.”

  “It’s not enough. Damn it, Roger. This is personal. Someone is after her, and she won’t tell me a damn thing.” He wanted to howl in frustration. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Roger chewed his gum and said nothing.

  “Bring her in, arrest her. Do something. You can get her to talk.” Fear licked at Jordan’s feet like flames.

  “You want me to arrest her?” Roger lifted a brow.

  “Yes. No. Dammit, we have to do something.”

  “I can’t arrest her because you have a gut feeling that she knows something. Besides, when she sees me, her mouth snaps shut quicker than a clam. Always has.”

  “Rog, if she gets hurt, or killed—” Jordan spun away.