The Forbidden Bride

by Debra Cowan

  “I’ll take my samples back to the lab and let you know what I find.” Collier’s green eyes were bloodshot, probably from exhaustion. “The videotape from this fire scene will be ready to view when you want.”

  “If I learn anything new, I’ll call you. Otherwise, I’ll plan to see you later today.”

  After she and Collier split up, Robin spent the day interviewing people who hadn’t been available the previous night, as well as the same people she had spoken to before Houston had shown up with his information. Did tonight’s victims socialize with her first one? Go to the same church or doctor? High school or college? Did they, or had they ever, worked together?

  So far, her answers were no. McClain called mid-afternoon and they agreed she would come by the fire investigator’s office to view the videotape after dinner.

  She had plans after that to eat with her childhood friends, Terra August Spencer and Meredith Boren Parrish. Before meeting the fire investigator, she had time to go back to the police department and finish some paperwork on an arrest she had made the day before.

  She hadn’t eaten since midmorning and her stomach felt hollow. That could be as much as from seeing Nate Houston as from hunger. Deciding it was the latter, she grabbed a protein bar out of the bottom drawer of her desk.

  After finishing her forms on the car theft case, she flipped open the file from Presley’s first fire murder. She wanted to reread her notes and make sure she didn’t miss anything that might connect last April’s murders with the one the night before.

  “Daly?” Detective Kiley Russell McClain, Collier’s wife, called across the squad room. “The captain wants to see you.”

  “Thanks.” Tossing the food wrapper into the trash, Robin made her way across the large room, her low-heeled pumps tapping on city-issue linoleum. She passed rows of putty-colored desks on her way to Hager’s office in the far corner.

  His blinds were closed, the door open. Just at six feet, the rangy, balding man stood behind his battle-scarred desk. There wasn’t a better boss, as far as trusting his detectives to solve their cases without micromanaging them. He had a good sense of humor and a strict sense of justice. John Hager was also one of the best judges of people she’d ever met.

  Robin was halfway inside his office when she realized someone else was in the room. She glanced over her left shoulder and froze when her gaze crashed into a deep blue one.

  Houston!

  She stiffened. What was he doing here?

  Standing against the wall, he still wore the pale blue shirt and navy uniform pants that he had that morning. Pants that hinted at the muscular thighs beneath. Fabric stretched across a broad, deep chest and hard shoulders. She didn’t remember his shoulders being so wide.

  His eyes glittered as he gave her a nod.

  She frowned. What was going on? Her gaze shot to Hager.

  Her boss slid his hands into the pockets of his gray slacks. “I understand you and Houston met this morning.”

  They had met a lot longer ago than that, but Robin wasn’t saying a word about it. She only nodded.

  “I’ve just gotten off the phone with the chief of police, the fire chief and the state fire marshal.”

  Something was definitely going on. Robin was uncomfortably aware of Nate standing so close. And the appealing spicy tang of his aftershave.

  “Since you two already know each other,” Hager continued, “we can dispense with the formalities. Fire Marshal Burke, Fire Chief Wheat and Police Chief Smith agree that these three fire-murders are the work of one guy, a serial arsonist. Houston has experience with other cases like this so he’s been put in charge of overseeing a multijurisdictional task force.”

  Overseeing? Robin froze. “What does that mean exactly?”

  “You run everything past him.”

  “You mean everytime I do anything on my cases?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.

  Her captain’s gaze leveled into hers. “Yes.”

  Well, yippee.

  “McClain is on his way over,” Hager said. “The two of you can catch Houston up on anything you might have learned today.”

  If she looked at Nate, she wouldn’t be able to keep the anger off her face. She took whatever assignment she was given, so she had to work with him.

  And for the time being, it looked as though she would be working with the one man with whom she didn’t want to share space, let alone information. The man who had convinced her fiancé to leave her standing at the altar. Literally.

  Chapter 2

  You have got to be kidding!

  Robin barely managed to bite back the words. The thought of working with Houston, being under his oversight, had irritation burning through her. It took her a moment to realize Captain Hager was talking.

  “Daly, the paperwork authorizing your assignment is finished on my end. The rest will be taken care of by Houston. I need to pick up my daughter at cheerleader camp. If you guys want to use my office to get your ducks in a row, feel free.”

  He stepped out, leaving Robin alone with Nate. She moved toward one of Hager’s visitor’s chairs, curling her fingers over the burgundy vinyl back so tight her knuckles ached.

  Houston said nothing, but she felt him behind her, his presence making the room seem smaller.

  He had stuck his nose in her business five years earlier, and now he was doing it again. Oh, she knew it wasn’t exactly the same—he had no more to say about this than she did—but she was in no frame of mind to be fair. She didn’t want to work with him, but that was her tough luck. Until these cases were solved, Nate Houston would be in her business.

  This was her job. She could do this. She would do this. Still, she practically ground her teeth to dust before she was able to throttle back her blood pressure and face him.

  His steady gaze unsettled her. Leaner and harder than she remembered, he braced one shoulder against the opposite wall. The whisker stubble shadowing his jaw looked good on him. Rather than making him appear unkempt, it blunted the stubborn angles of his face. The short sleeves of his uniform shirt skimmed biceps that were solid muscle. Dark hair dusted his forearms, drew her gaze to his strong broad hands. Big hands.

  He straightened and took a step toward her. She tensed.

  Those blue eyes pierced her. “Look, I know I’m the last person you want to work with.”

  “We both know ‘want to’ has nothing to do with it.”

  “True.” Before he could say more, Collier strode into the office.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Robin’s partner carried a manila file folder. “I wanted to wait for some test results.”

  The band around her chest eased. McClain appeared to have already been told about Houston overseeing their investigations, and he seemed fine with it. Well, why wouldn’t he be? Houston hadn’t sledge-hammered Collier’s life into teeny-tiny pieces.

  Catching the knowing glint in Houston’s eyes, as if he expected her to say she couldn’t handle it, Robin looked directly at him. “Where do you want to start?”

  “How about with McClain’s test results?”

  She nodded. Listening to her partner’s findings would give her a minute to gather her composure.

  This was no time to be thinking about Houston and what had happened at her aborted wedding, so she clamped down hard on any thoughts not related to the fire-murders. Too bad she couldn’t get rid of Houston himself that easily.

  “Tests show the accelerant used last night was the same used in the other fire-murders,” McClain said. “It’s the Mailman.”

  “The Mailman?” Nate arched a brow.

  Collier chuckled. “Like it? I came up with that moniker while I was running tests on the envelope.”

  A grin hitched one corner of Nate’s mouth and a dimple flashed.

  Robin blinked. His face went from intense, almost stern to…charming. Mischievous. Inviting.

  Oh, please….

  She didn’t even like the guy.

  She moved to the
far corner of Hager’s desk, leaving plenty of space between her and Houston. “Any ideas about motive? The victims being burned in their beds is personal, makes it seem like revenge.”

  “I agree,” Nate said. “The sooner we can answer that question, the better. We need to share information, see if we find other things in common besides the arson signature and the cooling-off period.”

  “Daly and I haven’t really had a chance to talk about the time between fires.” Collier dragged a hand across his nape. “Why do you think the torch waits twenty-seven days between each one?”

  “Maybe he has a job that takes him out of town?” Robin suggested, impatient to leave the small office that put her too close to Nate. “Or one that requires him to work a shift, maybe in another city?”

  “Maybe something that puts him in or around Presley every fourth week. Like a job that sends him here instead of taking him out of Presley?”

  Collier dragged over one of the visitors’ chairs and eased down. “So maybe a job where he works three weeks, is off one week.”

  “Could it be a salesman?” Robin asked.

  Nate shrugged one broad shoulder. “Or someone who travels, giving seminars or teaching classes?”

  She folded her arms. “I’ll do some research and try to find other jobs that might fit a schedule like that.” She looked at Nate. “What about the arsonist you arrested in Chicago? What was his cooling-off period?”

  “It was never consistent. At first, the fires were about six weeks apart, then two or three, then less than one.”

  “What kind of job did your torch have?”

  “He worked for the city, the water department.”

  “Ironic,” Robin said at the same time as Nate.

  Her gaze shot to his. Despite a slight smile, his blue eyes darkened. The way they had when he had first told her and Collier about the bastard he had put away. Hmm, interesting.

  Her partner drummed his fingers on the chair’s arm. “The number twenty-seven could be the date of someone’s birthday. Or the anniversary of a death, maybe some other traumatic event.”

  “Shoot,” Robin said. “It could be related to phases of the moon for all we know.”

  “True,” Nate muttered, shoving a hand through his thick black hair.

  Collier’s gaze swung to Robin. “So far, I haven’t found anything different about this scene than we did our first one. Daly, did you learn anything new today?”

  “I thought I had, but I hit another dead end.”

  “Do you have a list of who you talked to today?” Nate asked.

  “Yes.” Did the man think she didn’t know how to do her job? Pulling her small notebook from the front pocket of her slacks, she held it out to him.

  When Nate reached for it, her grip tightened. He thought he might have to pry it out of her hand. Finally, she released it. He flipped the book open and began skimming pages. Her handwriting was neat and legible. Very detailed, very precise.

  After a moment, he pointed to a place on the page. “There’s a star next to the name Pattie Roper, then a question mark.”

  “I was looking for a connection. Our first victim, Les Irwin, dated Pattie about six months ago. The sister of last night’s female victim told me the victim suspected her husband of having an affair, but had no idea who the woman might be.”

  “Hmm,” Nate murmured, unable to stop staring at her mouth.

  “Anyway,” Robin said pointedly, “I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask the sister if she’d heard of Pattie Roper, but she hadn’t.”

  “It was a good idea.” Forcing his gaze from her, Nate thumbed to the next page in her notebook, glancing at the information. The light scent of soap and woman drifted to him. “Her name never came up in any of the interviews I conducted after my fire-murder. Has anyone’s name shown up more than once in either of your investigations?”

  “No,” Collier said.

  Closing Robin’s notebook, he returned it, looking at both her and McClain. “I’d like to review your notes on both fires and see if I come across any kind of connection to the arson in Warren.”

  Collier nodded. “The more information we have, the sooner we can catch this guy.”

  Noting that Robin’s mouth tightened, Nate figured she hated the idea of sharing her files with anyone besides Collier. Still, these investigations needed the expertise of all three of them.

  “My files are available to y’all, too,” Houston said.

  “Even the ones from your big Chicago case?” she challenged.

  “Yes, if you think they’ll help.” He resisted the urge to roll his shoulders and ease the tightness in his muscles.

  “My files are back at the fire investigator’s office,” Collier said.

  “Mine are here,” Robin offered coolly. “At my desk.”

  Tension hummed between them and Nate knew she had to feel it, too. He couldn’t help but admire her professionalism. She wanted this fire setter as much as he did. Her displeasure at having to work with him was obvious, but she wasn’t letting it get in the way.

  “What’s your next move on the investigation?” he asked her.

  “I plan to check swimming pool stores around town and find out in what typical quantities chlorine powder is sold and what month most people start preparing their pools for the summer.”

  From her rigid stance, Nate figured she thought he meant to tell her to do something else. He had no intention of doing that. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and come across someone who purchased the stuff back in April, before our first fire-murder.”

  He knew he was right when her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were still waiting for him to tell her how to do her job.

  “Of course,” she said, “there’s the possibility that the suspect could be using chlorine powder left over from last season.”

  “The stores are a good place to start. I can help you with that. We can split the work.”

  Surprise flared in her eyes and he read an instant protest in her face, but she only nodded. “Okay.”

  Collier got to his feet. “Daly and I are planning to look at the videotape of last night’s fire scene after dinner. You can join us if you want.”

  “Thanks, I do.”

  “All right.” The other man stepped toward the door. “Kiley and I are going to grab something to eat. You two want to come?”

  “I have some things I need to finish up,” Robin said quickly. “Plus I’ll start calling places that sell pool chemicals.”

  “If you’re sure your wife won’t mind, I’ll take you up on dinner,” Nate said.

  “Great.” Collier glanced at Robin. “I’ll call when we’re finished and the three of us can meet at my office.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He started out of the office. When Nate didn’t immediately follow, Collier threw a questioning look over his shoulder.

  “I’ll catch up.” Nate flicked a glance at Robin. If there were going to be problems, he wanted to know now.

  Collier nodded. “We’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  As the other man walked off, Nate turned to Robin, not surprised when she edged away. He hadn’t been surprised when she declined McClain’s offer for supper, either.

  Before she could slip out, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and took out one of his business cards, offering it to her. “McClain already has the numbers where I can be reached, but you’ll probably need them, too.”

  She took the card from him, barely looking at it. He figured he would have to ask for her numbers in return, but before he could, she said, “If you stop at my desk on the way out, I’ll give you mine.”

  “Okay.” He caught a whiff of her shampoo as she walked out.

  He followed her to the squad room and past several desks before coming to a stop next to hers. Two stacks of files were neatly arranged on one corner with a computer monitor on the other. A framed photograph of Robin standing beside a horse, a black-and-white paint, sat at the desk’s center.

&
nbsp; Sliding his hands into his pockets, he tilted his head toward the picture. “Your horse?”

  “Yes.” Reaching into the bottom drawer for her purse, she fished a card from an inside pocket.

  He took it, the tips of his fingers grazing hers. A startling jolt of heat moved up his arm. When he saw the pulse in her neck jerk, he knew she’d felt it, too. Whatever the hell it was.

  After returning her handbag to its place, she slid two files from the top of a stack. “These are my files on the Mailman fires. Do you want them now?”

  “Unless you’d rather bring them to Collier’s office.”

  “I’ll do that. It will give me time to make copies.”

  “Okay. See ya in an hour or so.”

  She sure didn’t give an inch. She turned away, starting toward the other side of the room. As far as he was concerned, they still had business. He lightly touched her elbow and she spun.

  The fierce look on those delicate features said he was lucky to still have his hand.

  Whoa. “Are you going to have a problem working with me?”

  “Not unless you make it one.” Her blue eyes glittered like ice. “And we both know it doesn’t matter if either of us have a problem with it. We still have to do our jobs.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to feel as though I’m not a target every day when I come to work.”

  A slight flush spread across her cheeks. “Fair enough.”

  He nodded, slipping her card into the pocket of his uniform shirt. “I’ll see you later this evening then.”

  “All righty.”

  All righty. As he walked out, he felt her stare boring into his back as though to make sure he really did leave.

  Working with her was not at the top of his wish list, either, but she was right. They were both professionals; they needed to do the job without their personal feelings interfering.

  He hoped she was finished making it personal. Her suggestion that he might have put away the wrong guy in the Chicago case had resentment churning in his gut, but he wasn’t going to let Detective Gorgeous make him doubt himself or a solid case, a closed case.