by Multi-Author
His lips curved upward and she realized with horror what she’d said. “I…I mean…”
He laughed, touching her arm. “It’s all right. I didn’t clarify. My bad. I took the liberty of making use of the picnic table in your back yard. I hope you don’t mind.”
She followed him around the house and saw the picnic basket sitting on the table near the back of her property. “I’m so sorry, Duncan.”
He shook his head. “Nope, I take full responsibility for not being more clear. I’m afraid I can get kind of intense when I’m immersed in an investigation.”
She remembered he’d always been kind of intense. At one point in her life she’d wished some of that intensity could be focused in her direction. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“Let it go, Hilda.”
The words, spoken softly and with a warmth that shocked her into looking up at him, caused something low in Hilda’s belly to twist with need.
He reached out and touched her chin, lifting it gently. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
She blinked. “I…” Swallowing hard, Hilda shook her head and he misread the motion.
Duncan dropped his hand, giving her a sad smile. “I didn’t recognize you either at first. It’s been over fifteen years since I last saw you standing in the doorway watching us drive away. It nearly killed me to leave you there.” He slammed his lips shut as if realizing how inappropriate his observation was.
Hilda chewed on her bottom lip, at a loss for a response.
Finally, Duncan looked up again. “How’s Josh? Your father?”
“Dad’s still living in the house in Greenwood. I don’t see him much.”
Her nonchalant statement couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice. Knowing her father, Duncan easily read between the lines. Doug Bennet had always been kind of a cold fish, though he’d been kind enough to Duncan in the beginning, he’d never really cherished his daughter like he should. Duncan wondered if it was because she reminded him too much of her mother. “I’m sorry, bedbug.”
She sucked in a breath. “I haven’t heard that one for a while.”
He held her gaze a long moment, watching as emotions ran the gamut across her face. She finally sighed. “I did recognize you, almost as soon as I saw you, but I…” She shook her head. “That was a long time ago and it was a painful time for me.”
Duncan dropped down onto the bench and leaned back, his arms splayed and elbows resting on the weathered wood of the tabletop. “I begged my mother to bring you with us. Did you know that?”
She shook her head, her stomach churning. “I didn’t.”
Silence stretched between them until Duncan filled it. “You didn’t tell me how your brother is doing.”
“Josh is…” weighing several responses that all sounded disloyal, she finally settled on one that had no weight. “He’s fine.” She glanced toward the picnic basket. “I’m so glad you weren’t lying about lunch. I’m starving.”
Duncan’s grin was slow and crooked, enough to make her knees wobble. “I would never lie about something as important as lunch. You of all people should know that.”
A memory, bright and happy, emerged. She laughed. “You were always stealing my peanut butter sandwiches.”
“Only half. I was always willing to share,” he told her.
“Yeah, you were always willing to share my food.” Hilda couldn’t help chuckling with him. “I never understood why you didn’t just make your own.”
He reached for the picnic basket, pulling it close and rummaging through it. “You always made them so much better than I did. I put too much jelly on them.” He pulled a baggie out of the basket and held it up. The inside was smeared with grape jelly. “I still do apparently.”
Hilda laughed again, reaching for the bag.
He jerked it away from her hand. “Not so fast, bedbug.”
He pulled half of the sandwich out of the bag and handed it to her. “Sharing is caring.”
Like a time machine, the phrase ripped her back in time, to the few short months of her childhood when she’d been happy, filled with hope for what had previously been a really dark future. Emotion clogged her throat and made her fingers tighten on the triangle of messy peanut butter and jelly she held between her fingers. “I’ve missed you, Duncan.”
His smile slipped away and he studied her, his gaze soft. “I’ve missed you too, bedbug.”
Shaking her head, she lifted her fingers and licked sticky sweetness from their tips. “Don’t call me that, Duncan.”
“Why not?”
She just continued to shake her head, unable to explain.
“Are you gonna eat that?”
When she looked up to find him eyeing her sandwich, Hilda jerked it close, the action bringing back even more memories. They used to banter playfully over food. Duncan always pretended to take half of everything she had but then, somehow, he’d always made sure he gave her back even more. “Hands off, Dunkman.”
Her words startled a laugh out of him. “I’d forgotten you used to call me that.” He cocked his head. “Why did you call me that?”
Hilda took a bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m not gonna tell you.”
Duncan reached into the basket again, coming out with another baggie that was filled to bursting with chips. “I’ll share my chips if you tell.”
Hilda stared hard at those chips, her mouth watering. She could almost taste the way they would mingle with the peanut butter and it was a powerful incentive. She’d always been a total sucker for potato chips and Duncan knew it. “Deal. But I get most of them. You can have two.”
“Ten,” he bargained.
“Three and that’s my final offer.”
“Five it is. And you don’t want to shoot your entire negotiating wad just yet, bedbug. You don’t know what I brought for dessert.” Duncan patted the bench beside him. “Have a seat.
With a smile, Hilda dropped down onto the bench beside him and took the bag of chips he offered. “Okay, but just be forewarned. I’m a much better negotiator now than I was at age ten and three quarters.”
He tucked the last bite of sandwich between his sexy lips and grinned. Swallowing, he nodded. “You’d almost have to be, wouldn’t you?”
Chapter Four
Duncan couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much. His memories of his time in the Bennet household had always been a mixed bag, with the darker stuff far outweighing the happy times he’d shared with Hilda.
She’d been the little sister he’d always wanted and never had. At least that was what he’d thought at the time. Twelve-year-old Duncan’s limited experience with girls gave him no frame of reference for any other type of relationship with a female type creature. So he’d tucked Hilda into his heart under the term “sister”, though he realized now that the term didn’t feel right.
For those few, short months he’d experienced a rare type of connection with someone who wasn’t blood and who approached life in an entirely different way. He remembered tiny Hilda with the dark, messy hair and sparkling eyes. Her cheeks were always rosy and her knees perpetually skinned. She fought so hard to keep up with him, constantly striving to prove she was more than just a girl, that Duncan had been continually entertained and intrigued.
Looking back, he realized he’d been happy then. Until the darkness started to overlay the bright moments they shared together.
Duncan frowned.
“Was it something I said?”
He looked up as she popped the last bite of gooey brownie between her lips. Full and sexy lips, with a natural pinkness that made him want to touch and taste. “I was just thinking we’d better get down to business soon.”
She grimaced, wrinkling her delicate nose. “I knew this was too good to last.”
“We can do it again.” He was a bit shocked when he realized he’d said it out loud. He panicked, his muscles tightening.
But her answering smile made him relax. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” Duncan nodded toward the house. “Are you ready to do a little walk through?”
He remembered the lip biting thing. It was one of the few, purely feminine things ten-year-old Hilda had indulged in. “I guess.”
Duncan grabbed the two helmets he’d placed on the picnic table, handing her one. “Then let’s go. We’ll make it quick, I promise.”
* * *
She was quiet as he led her through the home, showing her what needed to be done and doing his best to give her encouragement. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her the house could be salvaged. It would take some time and a lot of energy, but Hilda could rebuild her little house and make it even better than it was. Duncan tried to focus on that when discussing the renovations she’d need to make to the house.
He was happy when she started to relax, even get excited about the changes she could make.
“There’s just one last room,” he told her, urging her toward the origin of the fire with gentle pressure on her back. “And I need to ask you a couple of questions.”
Her delicate jaw tightened as he led her into the living room, which, even to her inexperienced eye was obviously where the most damage was.
He placed a hand under her elbow. “Be careful in here. The floor is nearly eaten away in some spots.”
Her face tightened and her eyes sparkled with sudden tears as she nodded. It was clear she felt guilty for the fire and Duncan had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her it wasn’t her fault. He was ninety-nine percent sure it wasn’t, but until he was certain he wouldn’t give her false hope.
She glanced at the yellow marker in the center of the room. “What’s that for?”
Duncan eyed the spot, glad for the ray of bright sun painting it in light. “That’s what I wanted to ask you about. “Can you tell me where in this room the red candle was located? There was no table nearby and the red wax on the floor is too far away from the fireplace to have dripped from there.”
She squinted toward the spot. “Red wax?”
He crouched down and she dropped down beside him, her gaze fixed on the spot. “See here…” Duncan ran his finger along the narrow lines that ran in nearly unbroken curves along the floorboards.
She frowned. “Is that a letter?”
Duncan’s pulse picked up. “I believe it is. Can you make it out?” He nearly held his breath. He’d shown the phenomena to several other people and no one had seen it but him. Until that moment.
Hilda reached out, running a slim fingertip along the artistic arch. “It’s an archaic font.” She leaned closer. “Is it the letter A?”
“Good god, Hilda!”
Duncan’s gaze swung to the front door and his pulse picked up. Straightening quickly, he instinctively put himself between Hilda and the man standing in the doorway. With the sun at his back, the man’s features were obscured in soft shadow.
Beside him, Hilda sucked in a small breath. “Josh. What are you doing here?”
The man came forward, his lanky form moving with surprising agility as he stepped around the fire-ravaged skeletons of a couch and table. He approached with a smile on his face, extending a hand to Duncan. “I’m Hilda’s brother. And you are?”
“Joshua!” Hilda warned.
“Hello, Josh.” Duncan took the hand, pumping it quickly before dropping it.
Hilda’s older brother narrowed his gaze. “Do I know you? You seem strangely familiar.”
“Of course you know him,” Hilda said with a scowl. “It’s Duncan. Surely you haven’t forgotten someone who lived in our home for eight months.”
Josh’s features tightened briefly and then he nodded. “Duncan…Yves is it? I think that was your mother’s maiden name, right?”
“The name hasn’t changed, Josh.” And, Duncan wanted to add, neither have you.
Ignoring the mild rebuke, Josh slapped Duncan on the shoulder, grinning. He still had a mean smile. “You’re a hell of a lot bigger these days.” He glanced around the house. “Why did I have to hear about the fire on the news, Hilda?” He scanned Duncan a speculative look. “And why is our former “almost brother” here? You called him before you called me?”
Duncan stepped forward, the need to protect Hilda a reflex he’d apparently never shaken off. “She didn’t call me, Josh. I’m in charge of the investigation into this fire.”
Hilda’s brother frowned. “Investigation? What’s there to investigate? I can save you some time. Hilda loves candles. She’s also a bit of a ditz and sometimes forgets to blow them out.” He lifted an eyebrow in his sister’s direction. “You of all people should know that, since she almost killed you once.”
Hilda made a small sound of outrage. “I can’t believe you just said that!”
Duncan stepped forward, hands fisting. He barely restrained the urge to start punching. His jaw clenched, Duncan leaned into Josh’s face. “That’s a cold, fucking thing to say, man. Even for you.”
Josh’s charcoal gaze darkened with answering rage. “But I notice you didn’t deny it.”
Hilda gave a little cry and stepped toward her brother, shouldering Duncan out of the way. “That’s a damn lie, Josh. I didn’t start that fire.”
Josh just shook his head. “Calm down, sis. I was just tweakin’ ya. I see you two are still ganging up against me…just like you always did.” He shook his head, turning away. “Let me know if you need any help. Do you have a place to stay?” He stopped at the door, turning back to Hilda expectantly.
She expelled a soft breath, her muscles de-tensing. Josh and Hilda had always gone head to head, even as kids. But Duncan had believed it was an age thing. It was disconcerting to see they still hadn’t found a way to get along as adults.
Though it could definitely have something to do with the fact that Josh Bennet was a complete dick.
“I’m staying at Sissy’s.”
Her brother nodded, scouring Duncan a final look. “Duncan.”
Hilda deflated when her brother left, lifting a shaky hand to her face. It was clear the encounter had really upset her.
Duncan reached for her, pulling her into his arms as she took deep, shuddering breaths. “Don’t let him get to you, bedbug. He’s an ass.”
She laughed shakily, moving to put distance between them. When he looked at her she blushed prettily. “You’d think after all these years I’d be able to handle him better.”
Duncan said nothing.
Her gaze slid to the spot on the floor they’d been perusing when they were interrupted, a thoughtful expression taking over her features.
“So, you never answered my question,” Duncan prompted her.
She seemed lost in thought and didn’t respond.
“Hilda?”
Her gaze jerked up. “What?”
“You never answered me…”
She frowned.
“About the red candle?”
“Oh,” shoving slender fingers through the thick curtain of her shiny, black hair, Hilda shook her head. “I didn’t have any red candles. Only white ones. I have a thing for white candles.” Her smile was tentative, shaky.
Excitement coursed through him. “Are you absolutely sure?”
The intensity of his manner appeared to surprise her. She blinked, momentarily taken aback. “I…well yeah.” Two lines appeared between her delicate brows as she seemed to be giving it some thought. Finally, she nodded. “I’m sure. I was trying to remember if anybody had given me a red or pink candle. My friends know I love candles so it’s possible. But I know there weren’t any other candles in the room. After what happened…before…I’m always very careful about where I put them. The mantle seemed safe…” Her words trailed away as she realized it hadn’t been safe after all. She made an impatient movement. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Josh was right about one thing. Apparently I am a ditz. I left those candles burning and burned down my house.
” Twisting her fingers together, Hilda shook her head. “I guess I deserve what happened to me.”
“No, you’re wrong.”
She shook her head, obviously thinking he was just trying to comfort her.
He took hold of her arms, gently turning her to face him. “I mean it, Hilda, you’re wrong. You didn’t cause this.”
“Duncan…”
He pointed to the waxy smudges on the floor. “This isn’t the first time I’ve found something like this in one of my investigations. In fact I’ve seen it several times lately, though this is the first time I think I can actually prove what’s going on.”
Her brows quirked upward. “I don’t understand. What can you prove, Duncan?”
“I can prove we have a serial arsonist in the city. And, with your help, I think I can prove that he just set fire to your house.”
Chapter Five
“What are you doing here, Hilda? It’s almost eleven.”
Hilda looked up from the inventory sheets she was checking. A tall, lean man with dark brown hair that was graying just above his ears stood in the doorway, his hands resting on the door frame above his head. “Oh, hey Adam.”
Adam Standish moved into her cluttered office and stopped in front of her desk, looking down at her with a chastising expression on his handsome face. He’d lived down the street and had been a friend of her father’s when they were kids and, when she moved into the city looking for a job, Adam had offered her the manager’s position at his popular restaurant. She’d been surprised at the time, since she hadn’t thought Adam really liked her very much, but she figured he must have done it for her father. Or for her brother Josh, whom he seemed to prefer. “Your house just burned down. I expected you to take a few days to get things in order.”
“It didn’t burn down. Not completely,” she clarified. “And that was three days ago. I need to move on sometime. Besides, there’s not much I can do after five anyway so I might as well work.”
“And sleeping? Is that just a luxury now?”
Despite the chiding tone, Hilda knew her boss well enough to know when he was teasing her. Sure enough, there was a sparkle in his light gray eyes when she looked into them. She grinned. “If it makes you feel any better I’m only going to be here a couple of hours. I just need to go through this inventory and make sure we have what we need for the weekend.”