“He’s ready to go to work.” Gini patted Midas’s back.
“He’s always ready,” Patrick said. His short hair was soaked with sweat, and he brushed perspiration from his forehead. “Your studio will probably need only minor repairs to that adjoining wall.”
“That’s what I figured. Was a close one though.”
“Too close.” Patrick looked back over his shoulder to the bookstore carcass. “Mason said the owners are away.”
Gini nodded. “We should board up the windows and roof for now.”
“Some of the fighters have volunteered to do that.”
“We’re one big family here in Burnam,” Haddy said.
“Yeah, with one bad seed who keeps setting buildings on fire.” Gini narrowed her eyes.
“We’ll catch the bad seed.” Mason came to stand with them on the sidewalk. “Another few minutes and we can go in.” He looked at Gini’s purse. “You wouldn’t happen to have your camera, would you?”
“Now that’s a stupid question,” Haddy said. “You know she could live out of that bag for six months, easy. Of course, she’s got her camera.”
“Probably has two,” Patrick added.
Haddy and Mason laughed.
“Catching on quick, Patrick,” Haddy said.
Gini flitted her gaze from the bookstore to Patrick’s face. She wanted to be annoyed at his wisecrack, but couldn’t muster up the emotion, looking at the grin on his face. Even covered in sweat and smelling of smoke, he made something in her belly flutter.
“I’m going to get rid of this gear,” Patrick said.
“Okay,” Mason said. “I’m going to have my guys hold off on going into the scene this time. I want the four of us to have first crack at it.”
Patrick walked off to one of the fire trucks. Gini had her camera out, and she sent Haddy with one of the fighters to inspect the studio.
“You okay?” Mason asked.
“Yes. The studio survived.” Gini let Mason hug her, and it was like hugging Jonah. All safe and cozy. “Too bad I can’t say the same for the bookstore.”
Mason released her and turned to face the store. “If I know the Wedsons, they’ve got insurance up the ass. They’ll rebuild and be back on their feet in no time.”
“No doubt. It’s so sad, especially if this is another arson and not an accident.” Gini watched Mason’s fist tighten and release, tighten and release. She rubbed his forearm. “You’re doing everything you can, Mason.”
He sifted a breath through his teeth. “I know, but it’s frustrating to wait for enough pieces to fit together before we can come up with any suspects. This will be number three within a week’s time, Gini. We’ve never had this many fires that close together.”
“We’ve never had an arsonist on our hands before either. Daddy told me he can’t remember the last time they had a problem with someone starting fires in Burnam on purpose.”
“I did some digging around myself, and there aren’t any records of arson arrests in the last forty-five years.” Mason flicked the flashlight in his hand on and off. “I hate to say this,” he said slowly, “but you getting any kind of vibe off Patrick?”
Now there was a question. Vibes off Patrick? Yes, a few that had everything to do with wanting to stroke every part of him.
“Vibes?” Gini hoped Mason didn’t notice the waver in her voice.
“Yeah, you know, something sinister.”
She couldn’t stop the laugh that flooded out into the dark. “Ah, sinister isn’t a word I’d use to describe Patrick. I don’t know him all that well, but he’s a firefighter. He works to save lives, Mason. Like you.”
Sinister. No way. She could think of several words beginning with “s” to describe Patrick. Shy, soft-spoken, smart, sensual, sexy. Not sinister.
“It’s just that he’s the only new addition we’ve had to Burnam recently, and these fires started after he got here.”
Gini shook her head. “It’s logical, but not possible. Besides, wouldn’t someone lay low for a while if they were new in town? Get a lay of the land, plan their attack? Patrick hasn’t been here long enough, and he wouldn’t intentionally set a fire.”
“You sound so sure,” Mason said.
“I am.” She didn’t know how she knew. She just did.
Mason glanced over to where Patrick was talking with Chief Warner. “You’re right. There’s nothing evil about him, is there? He’s definitely the hero type.”
Gini nodded. Patrick was the hero type all right. The hot, kissable, save-the-day hero type. And damn, she wanted to be saved.
****
Patrick didn’t like the churning in his stomach, the constant rolling. Battling that blaze had felt too much like trying to get his sisters out of their burning home. Like if he didn’t stop the fire, he’d be hurting someone important to him. He’d be hurting Gini. When had she become important? Probably the moment he’d touched his lips to hers. Now he’d had her taut ass in his hands too, and the pull toward her had increased to a perilous level.
He pulled off his gear and left it in the hands of one of the fighters to bring back to the station. His T-shirt and jeans were sweat-soaked, but they were all he had. Running a hand through his hair and accepting a towel from one of the EMTs on the scene, he fixed himself up as best he could. He stopped at his truck for his investigation kit, and was beside Gini, Mason, and Midas in front of the bookstore within a couple of minutes. Huge spotlights had been set up so artificial daylight illuminated the wreckage.
“Shall we?” Mason asked. He let Patrick and Midas go first.
“Look for the candle,” Patrick said. “That’s our best clue that it’s the same perpetrator. Midas, venez.”
They traveled in three different directions. Mason to the left, Patrick and Midas straight, and Gini to the right toward her studio wall. Gini began snapping pictures, capturing the carnage on film.
After a few moments of silent searching, Mason yelled, “I found it here, guys.”
Gini and Patrick joined Mason by the service door at the back of the bookstore. He shined his flashlight into a narrow closet. On the floor beneath the charred remains of shelving was a banana yellow gob of wax.
“Sentez, Midas.” Patrick pointed to the ground near the wax.
Midas slapped his nose to the ground and sniffed along what was an invisible line to the humans in the store. He barked when he got to the end of the line, retraced the trail, and barked again. Patrick kneeled and ran a finger over a spot Midas kept pawing at.
“Gasoline,” Patrick said.
“Why don’t we smell it in here?” Gini asked.
“It’s just a thin drizzle. Didn’t need much of it with all these books for fuel. Same at the barn at Meadow Cliff. Hay is super combustible all on its own.” Patrick returned to the closet. “Gini, get some shots of that.” He moved out of the way then added, “Please.”
Gini smirked and bent to get a clear shot of the candle remains. After shooting from several angles, she stepped back. “All set.”
“May I?” Patrick held up an evidence bag from his kit.
“Absolutely,” Mason said. “We’ve got quite a collection going.”
Gini squeezed Mason’s shoulder. “It’s another piece of the puzzle, Mason. You’ll figure it all out.”
He pulled away to investigate other areas of the store.
Patrick reached a gloved hand into the blackened closet and picked up the wax blob. He waved it under his nose and inhaled.
“That one scented too?” Gini asked.
“Yes, but I don’t know what it is.” Patrick stood and held it under Gini’s nose. This brought him close to her face, a spot he yearned to be, but shouldn’t. He watched as she closed her eyes to sharpen her sense of smell. She had a little investigator in her, he thought. Knew how to not tamper with a crime scene, how to look for the details.
“Smells like lavender,” she said as she opened her eyes.
“What’s it used for?” Patrick slipped the wax into a
bag and sealed it.
“Also used to calm, de-stress, like the chamomile.”
“Okay, so our perp has an anxiety problem.” That fit with the profile of an arsonist. Patrick took out his notebook and made notes.
“Or wants us to think so,” Gini added.
Patrick pointed at her. “Very good. Might be wanting to set up a mental instability so when we catch our candle-lighter, he or she can plead insanity.” He scribbled that into the notebook.
“It’s like a sickness, huh? Starting fires.” Gini snapped a few more photos then looked at Patrick. The expression on her face was solemn, haunting. The glow usually radiating from her skin was gone.
“I understand you might want to feel bad for them, Gini,” he said, “but they kill people with these fires. They may be sick, but they’re also murderers.”
She looked as if his words had physically hit her. He hadn’t meant for them to come out with so much force, but thinking someone could actually plot to set something on fire, could flare that match to life and kill with it—well, he couldn’t feel bad for someone who did that. He just couldn’t.
“They are the bad guys, Gini.”
She nodded and maneuvered over some debris to stand with Mason. She didn’t like what he’d said. Why?
Shaking his head, Patrick made more notes and met Mason and Gini by the wide open entrance of the bookstore. Some of the fighters waited outside with plywood to board up the front of the store and the roof.
“Have at it,” Mason told them. Turning to Gini, he said, “Chief Warner inspected your wall himself. Says he doesn’t trust it.”
“I can work from home until the Wedsons come back and decide what they’re going to do.”
“That’s a good plan. Why don’t you and Haddy gather up what you’ll need while we’ve still got the fire department here,” Mason said.
“Okay.” Gini turned toward the studio.
“I’ll be by the truck,” Patrick said.
Gini waved a hand but didn’t turn around. Patrick shifted his gaze to take in the curious look on Mason’s face.
“Riding into work together now, are we?” Mason asked.
“She happened to be over when the chief called me in. She was upset. I didn’t want her to drive.”
“Uh-huh.” Mason smiled.
“Shut up, man.” Patrick didn’t know why he was getting angry. What Mason was concluding wasn’t off the mark. He cared for Gini. He could try to deny it, but it was becoming more difficult to do so. Knowing she was in her studio where the wall was unstable made him nervous.
“Male subject appears sensitive to his growing interest in female subject.” Mason pretended to write on his small notepad.
“This isn’t the time or the place to discuss this.” Patrick handed the evidence bag to Mason.
“You’re right. I’m being unprofessional, but I love Gini. This fire could have easily taken her place down. She could have been in there. We go around thinking we have unlimited chances to say what we want to people, but in our line of work, Patrick, we should know better than anyone that’s not true.”
He flicked his flashlight on to beam into Patrick’s face. “Don’t let your fears get in the way of what you want. What you both want.” Mason shut off the flashlight and left Patrick to blink at the circle of light dotting his vision.
He hated that Mason was right.
****
The drive back to Patrick’s house had been a silent one. Patrick must have been tired, and Gini couldn’t stop thinking about him saying fire-starters were murderers. She knew he meant arsonists—people who used fire for malicious intent—but she couldn’t help putting herself in the same category. She started fires. Sure, she didn’t need matches or a lighter. She didn’t need an elaborate plan. She just needed some old-fashioned fury and poof, she had fire. She never wanted to kill anyone with what she could do. That’s what kept her fighting for control of her ability every day. But still, the possibility was there.
She could kill.
The outline of Gini’s SUV came into view as they approached Patrick’s house. Midas nuzzled Gini’s ear, and that slosh of his tongue across her cheek did more to comfort her than anything else could have at that moment. She took the dog’s black face in her hands and kissed his muzzle.
“Love you too, Midas,” she said.
“He only kisses when he senses someone needs it.” Patrick’s voice was a little scratchy, and Gini wondered if it was from being in the bookstore or something else.
“Well, he was right on.” Gini smoothed the fur on Midas’s back as he licked her neck.
“You okay to drive home?” Patrick angled himself against the driver side door.
What would he say if she said no? Would he take her home himself? Would he invite her to stay the night at his house? Would he take her to his bed? Touch her? Make love to her?
Gini shook her head to clear the train of thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. It was a close one tonight. That’s all.”
“Too close. We have to catch this nutcase before someone gets hurt.”
Patrick’s face twisted so he looked…fierce. That was the only word that came to Gini’s mind. His eyes were so dark they appeared almost brown, all the flecks of green snuffed out by his mood. Gini wanted to reach out to him, make that frustration slough off his features, but she remembered how he’d reacted to her slipping his shirt free. She kept both her hands on Midas instead. The dog didn’t seem to mind.
“I’ll develop the pictures first thing in the morning. Send two sets to Mason. You’ll be meeting with him, right?”
Patrick nodded. “We probably have enough material to analyze more fully now. The pictures are helpful.”
“Just doing what the police department pays me to do.” Gini shrugged and plopped her purse on top of the crate she had between her feet on the floor of the truck. She’d filed her current projects into the crate to work on at home.
“You do it well. Looking at your pictures is like being at the scene.” Patrick pulled his keys from the ignition.
“Remind me to show you more pleasant pictures sometime.” Gini opened her door, and Patrick got out on his side, Midas following behind him. Patrick appeared on the passenger side and held out his hands for the crate.
“I’d like to see more of your work. The few pictures you have up in your house are amazing.”
Gini grabbed her purse and handed the crate to Patrick. “Thank you. I do love my work. Not many people can say that. You love your work?”
Patrick hefted the crate to his hip and held it with one hand. “My work is…necessary. I wish I could stop fires before they started, you know?”
Gini nodded. Stopping fires before they started was critical to her having a somewhat normal life.
“Well, I watched you tonight,” Gini said, “and you didn’t waste a moment getting that blaze under control. It was impressive.”
Patrick cast his gaze down to the crate then off into the darkness around the driveway. “Again, it was necessary.” He drew in a deep breath and shifted the crate to carry with both hands. “You want this in the back?” He angled his head to her trunk.
“Yes.” Gini rested her purse on the crate and fished for her keys. She felt Patrick’s eyes on her as she did so. She concentrated on keeping her head bent. After a few false finds, she pulled out the keys.
“You’d be able to find them easier if—”
“I didn’t carry so much in here. I know. I know.” Gini dragged her purse off the crate, and Patrick pretended that a great weight had been lifted. “Watch it, wise guy. I’ve got my Super Soaker in here.” She patted her purse slung on her shoulder now.
“Yeah,” Patrick said as he shoved the crate into her SUV, “but I happen to know it’s not loaded.”
Gini grinned. “You weren’t with me when I gathered my stuff from the studio. I could have refilled.”
“I hope you did. You’ve got a few deserted streets to cover between my place and yours.”
Gini opened the driver side door and heaved her purse inside. “Good night, Patrick.” She stepped up into the SUV before she did something stupid.
Patrick came to stand at the open door. “Good night. I’ll see you.” He closed the door and gave her a wave as he walked to the garage. Midas bid her farewell with a short bark and trotted after Patrick.
Gini turned around in the wide driveway and watched the garage door close in her rearview mirror.
I’ll see you. Why did those words comfort her?
Chapter Nineteen
When Gini pulled into her driveway, she was surprised to find her daddy’s truck parked in front of her house. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Pretty late for a visit. Queasiness swirled in her stomach as she hopped out of the SUV and ran to the front door.
“Daddy?” She found him sitting at her kitchen table with a glass of water in his hands. “What’s wrong? Is Jonah okay? Mama?”
“They’re fine, Gini. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He took a drink of the water and rested both of his hands at the base of the glass.
Gini puffed out a breath and went back outside for her crate. She set it on the table. “Going to be working from home for a few.”
“Your mama and I were over in Montpelier. Only heard about the fire at the Wedsons’ place when we got back. Figured I catch you here.” Walter finished the water and set the empty glass aside. “You okay?”
“The studio will be fine. One wall will need fixing. Chief Warner didn’t trust it.” Gini eased into the seat across from her father.
“That’s not what I asked, Virginia. I asked if you were okay.”
Virginia? Her full name. Not good. “Well, I was afraid the fire was going to take down the studio, but our fighters are good at what they do. Come from a history of superb fighters.” She patted Walter’s hand.
He managed a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Something else was on his mind. He wasn’t himself. He’d called her Virginia.
“Daddy, what is it?”
“There isn’t an easy way to say this.” Walter fussed with the fringe on the linen Gini had on the table. “I have to ask it though. I have to.”
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