by MJ Fredrick
His timing wasn't great. But when had their timing ever been?
She opened the door and wrapped her arms around herself against the cool breeze that accompanied him. “Noah, what—?” And then she saw the carrier in his hand. “Skipper!” Her voice rose and carried as she held both hands out to take the carrier. “Oh, thank you. I didn't realize I’d left her behind until I got home and I didn't want to go back and disturb the Boysens.”
“I went and picked her up this morning.” He reached down for a couple of grocery bags. “I went by the office and picked up a few things for her. Where do you want them?”
He started to step inside, but Miranda moved in front of him, blocking him. She didn't want to have to deal with her mother and him, not when her mind was still so foggy.
The flick of pain in his eyes penetrated, and she did her best not to flinch.
“I just came to bring her. And to see if you’re okay.” He lifted a hand to her jaw, stroked lightly. “It was a hell of a night.”
“I don't think it’s all sunk in yet.” She extracted Skipper from the carrier and cuddled her against her shoulder. The kitten burrowed under her hair, thankfully not using her claws.
“You were very brave.”
“Me? I was in a total panic. You’re the one who got us out, all of us.”
“You remembered your kitten. I didn't even think about her.”
Miranda dropped a kiss to the top of Skipper’s head and was rewarded with a purr. “I may be scarred for life after that, though.”
He stroked a finger down the kitten’s spine. Funny how Miranda felt the caress as well. “You did good.” He met her gaze. “You need a ride to go get a new phone, or anything?”
She looked over her shoulder, knowing her mother was listening in the kitchen. “Um.Yeah. Not today, though. I’m just—I need to contact the insurance, make a list. Maybe tomorrow?”
“We can do that.”
“Aren’t you tired?” She sagged against the door frame.
“I’ll be fine. I have some more stops to make. Call…ah, I’m going to need to get your home number, I guess.”
She crossed to her mother’s desk and picked up a pen, then held her hand out for his hand. She wrote the number on the palm of his hand, then smiled up at him.
He looked from the number to her. “Women really do that?”
She released his hand, a little embarrassed by his reaction to her playfulness. “I’ve seen women do it, but I’ve never done it before.”
He looked at the number again, then pulled out his phone and typed it in. “You have my number?”
She didn’t, actually. She angled her head and handed the pen to him. Without dropping her gaze, he lifted her palm and wrote his number, then punctuated it with a kiss.
“Call when you need me. Good morning, Mrs. Bonner.” He lifted a finger to his forehead in a salute, then turned to leave.
When he was gone, she put the kitten down and picked up the bags he’d left behind, seeing the cat food, dishes, litter and litter pan he’d thought to bring. She hadn't even remembered to get the kitten, she’d been so tired and in shock last night.
All she could think about right now was her mother’s objections to him, now and when she’d been a teenager. “You see? He’s nothing like his father.”
*****
The next few days were busy with replacing things like car locks–her car escaped too much damage, just a few dents from the fire trucks that had pushed it out of the way–and clothes and shoes. Miranda didn't feel right asking Noah to go with her to get a new phone, after all he’d done for her, so she, her mother, Allison and Jolie, who was still staying with them, went into San Marcos to buy a new one. Once it was activated, she sent him her new number, but didn't hear back.
She texted Jolie and Riley, who both responded immediately.
“We need to meet,” Riley said, and offered the bakery after it closed as a spot.
Jolie and Miranda arrived together and walked in as Riley was putting on a fresh pot of coffee.
“Flip the sign over to ‘CLOSED,’ will you?” she asked over her shoulder. "Help yourself to something from the case.” She dropped into a chair with a groan.
"I need a place to stay," Jolie was blunt. “As nice as Cindy has been, I hate imposing. And poor Miranda is sleeping on the couch and has no privacy.”
"I have Allison on it," Miranda said. "But we don’t have a lot of options, nothing as nice as that house. Have you heard anything from our landlords?"
"They're devastated," Riley said with a sigh, closing her hands around a coffee cup. "They put a lot of money into that house, a lot of work, and now it's all gone."
"Have you heard anything from Wyatt?" Jolie asked.
"Sheriff Trevino said they are talking to all the neighbors, but as they expected, everyone was asleep. No one saw anything, and no one has security video, though they might invest in that now. There's no history of arson in town, other than the time Greg Garson set fire to his trailer to get the insurance money. They can't think of anyone who would do this." She glanced at Miranda. "Well. Maybe one person. But without any proof or motive, they can't arrest him."
Miranda's spine snapped straight. "Has my mother been spreading that rumor?"
"What rumor?" Jolie asked.
Riley turned to their roommate. "There's speculation Noah's dad set the fire."
"Noah's dad? Why on earth would he?"
"That's the question. But he's been in prison, so he's the most likely suspect."
"Was he in prison for arson?" Jolie asked.
"Manslaughter," Miranda said quietly. When Jolie gasped, she added, "Drunk driving."
Jolie nodded and stared into her coffee cup. "That's a leap to arson."
"Agreed. I don't think he did it. Why would he?" Miranda asked.
"So who do you think did it?" Riley pressed, and her voice was harder than Miranda had heard it before.
Miranda shook her head. "I wish I knew."
“It has to be someone we know,” Riley said reasonably. “Why target that house in the middle of the block, instead of any of the other houses around?”
“Have you talked to Noah?”
“Not since the day after the fire when he brought me Skipper and some supplies for her.” Miranda’s twinge of guilt deepened. Things had been going so well between them before the fire. Why was she letting living at home again change that?
“I need to get to work,” Jolie said, rising. “Let me drive you home,” she said to Miranda.
“I can walk, don't worry,” Miranda said. “I’m going to go by the office.” Which she was supposed to have opened this week, but with everything going on….maybe next week. “Can I buy some pastries to go?”
“Take what you want. A perk of bring roomies with the town baker.” Riley grinned and rose. “I’m going to finish up here. Let us know as soon as Allison finds something.”
Pink box in hand, Miranda walked home instead of going to the office, picked up her car, and drove to Noah’s clinic.
Noah’s truck was outside, thank goodness. But would he want to see her after not hearing from her for days?
Janie was at the reception desk, and when Miranda looked past her, she saw the waiting room wasn't too busy.
“Hey, Miranda! Doing okay?” Her frown was exaggerated, her brow furrowed. “I heard about the fire. How terrifying!”
“We’re good, thanks,” Miranda said. “Is Noah busy?”
“He’s in with a dog right now, bad tooth. He’ll be done in about half an hour or so. You want to wait?” Her gaze locked on the pink box. “Are those from Riley’s?”
Miranda put the box on the counter. “Just make sure to save one for him,” she said as his techs swarmed the box.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Lisa gushed. “I’m always starving this time of day, and no one brings us food.”
Miranda was going to say something about them washing their hands, but figured they knew well enough.
“You going to wait for him?” Lisa asked before biting into a cruller.
Miranda looked at the benches in the waiting room, not particularly comfortable, but she did want to see him. “For a bit, I guess.”
She pulled out her phone as she waited, and opened up her list function to check off what she’d reasoned that she needed to do to get back on her feet. She looked up when the door opened with more force than necessary and Ben rushed in.
“Where’s Noah?” he demanded.
Janie looked from him to Miranda, and back to Ben. “He’s with a patient. What’s wrong?”
Miranda rose, thinking to calm the younger man down.
“Dad’s been arrested.”
“What? On what charge?”
Ben turned hot eyes to her.
“Burning down your house.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I don’t understand how this can happen,” Miranda said, pressing one hand in front of Noah’s chest as they confronted Sheriff Trevino at the sheriff’s office. She had accompanied the brothers not as legal counsel, but as the voice of reason, and now they stood in the low-ceilinged, fake-wood paneled relic from the 1970s, confronting the man who had been in office here most of that time. So Rey’s arrest didn't make sense. “Why would you arrest him on such circumstantial evidence?”
Neighbors had reported seeing a slender man in the shadows of the house that night, weaving, and a battered car parked down the road. Not a decent description of the car, not even a reasonable estimate of the make or year, just a battered car and a silhouette and a criminal record and in the eyes of the law he was guilty of trying to kill her, her friends and his own son?
“We picked him up and found an empty gas can in the trunk of the car.”
“It’s a junker, it leaks gas sometimes,” Ben said, his tone a little desperate. “He carries a gas can just in case.”
“This is so flimsy.” Miranda couldn't keep the disgust from her voice. “Just because he has a record. What did he say when you picked him up?”
“He didn't put up a fight,” Trevino said. “Just came along with us.”
Why would he do that? Maybe he was expecting to get arrested all along.
“He wouldn't try to kill us,” Miranda insisted.
“If he was drunk he might. Or high.” Trevino waved a dismissive hand.
“Was he?” Noah demanded.
The sheriff leaned back in his chair. “High as a kite when we picked him up.”
“Drunk?”
“High. Keta.”
Noah rocked back on his heels, the color draining from his face. “You’re kidding.”
“What’s Keta?” Miranda asked.
“It’s a horse tranquilizer,” Noah said, his voice dull. “I’ve had some missing from the clinic.”
“You have?” He hadn't told her.
“Wyatt had arrested Kayla’s husband Devin for selling it at Garcia’s.”
“I know Devin,” Ben said. “We went to school together. You didn't tell me he got arrested for it.”
“Yeah, a few days ago.”
“Well, that sucks. Don’t they have a couple of kids?” Ben asked.
“He was stealing from me and selling drugs to roughnecks,” Noah countered. “His choice. Not mine.”
“Did you fire Kayla?”
Noah blew out a breath. “I had to.”
“So the dad is in jail and the mom is unemployed in a town whose economy is on a downslide.”
“Devin’s not in jail,” the sheriff put in. “He made bail. Paid cash.”
Noah stiffened. “Was he out the night of the fire?”
The sheriff leaned forward. “Are you trying to say he’s the one who set the fire? Tried to kill four people?”
“It makes more sense him doing it than my father.”
“Devin doesn't have a piece of shit car,” Trevino pointed out. “He was making money in the oilfields. Sorry, Miranda.”
“Who’s to say the piece of shit car belonged to the arsonist?” Miranda countered. “It’s so circumstantial it will never make it to court.”
“The car was there before the fire and gone after the fire.”
“You’ve been in law enforcement long enough to know coincidence won’t make it to court. Will you at least look at Devin?” Miranda said. “See if he has an alibi, see what his reaction is?”
“I’d lay money on him being the one,” Noah said. “I just…I thought the arson was aimed at one of the girls. I never thought I’d be the one putting them in danger.”
“You’re presuming that Devin knew you were spending the night with Miranda, if your theory is that he was after you,” the sheriff said.
“I’d been spending the night all week. It wouldn't have been out of the question to think I’d be there again.”
The sheriff shook his head. “It’s a stretch from selling drugs to murder.”
“It’s a stretch from drunk driving to murder,” Ben said.
The sheriff extended a finger in his direction. “That was manslaughter, so no, not really a stretch.”
“Can we speak to Rey?” Miranda said, her mind whirling. So the fire had not been someone trying to hurt her, but Noah? She’d put her roommates in danger because she’d brought him into the house? How was she going to explain this to them?
“All of you?” Trevino asked in a long-suffering tone.
The brothers exchanged a glance. “Just me,” Miranda said.
Both brothers spoke up at once in protest.
“I’ll know what to ask him,” Miranda said, holding her hand up to Ben and then turning to the sheriff. “Is he sober?”
“I don’t know what the duration of a Keta high is, but I imagine he’s mostly lucid.” He stood slowly, stretching his long legs.
She nodded and followed him down the hall to the holding cell. She kept her back straight though her heart was pounding. She’d never practiced criminal law before, never had to worry about guilt or innocence, never had to encounter someone who might have had malicious intent. But she had to agree with the brothers. For all of Rey’s faults, he wouldn't kill his own son.
“You know you can’t be his lawyer,” Sheriff Trevino said. “He’s accused of damage to your property. You have a dog in this fight.”
“I understand. I just want to talk to him, see what he says.”
She tried to hide her shudder when she stepped in front of the cell and looked through the bars to the shadow of the man she had known when she was young. She’d seen him briefly when she brought Ben home from jail.
Damn, these Braun men and jail. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she needed to distance herself from this family. She’d been home two months and two of the family had needed her legal help.
He looked up with shadowed eyes and a smile curved his lips. She’d never thought Noah looked like his father, but something about his smile…
“Hello, Rey. You’ve got yourself into another mess.”
“Didn't do this one, girl.”
He was stoned, still, she could see it. “Didn't do what, exactly?”
“They say I set that fire at your place, that I was trying to kill my boy. You think I’d try to kill my boy?”
“Why do they think you did it?”
“You know me, easy target.”
“They have more on you than your record.”
Rey inclined his head. “Like what? No evidence. Someone thinks they saw me, someone thinks they saw my car. My record is the only thing that has me in here. I killed my wife, right, so now they think I’d kill my son. For no reason, really. I mean, if I was going to kill him, wouldn't it be easier to do it at the house?” He turned to look at the sheriff. “You’ve known me for a long time, David. You think I’d really go to all the effort to start a fire?”
His words sent a shiver of fear down Miranda’s spine. No wonder Noah was worried about leaving Selena out there with him. What kind of man thought about how easy it would be to kill his children?
“I know you weren't in your right mind when we picked you up. I know you’ve been using again, and you’ve violated your parole. So why wouldn't I think you’d get pissed at your boy and try to kill him?”
Rey rose then, and approached the bars. Every fiber of Miranda’s being willed her to stay in place, not take a step back, to show weakness.
“I’m an asshole,” Rey said, his gaze trained on the sheriff. “I’m a drunk, I’m a lot of things. But I would never deliberately set out to kill someone.”
In that moment, Miranda felt a tug of sympathy for the man who had always terrified her. A lot of bad choices had landed him here, but he hadn't done this, hadn't set fire to her house. She was sure of it.
She followed Trevino out of the holding area, and Ben and Noah jumped to their feet, looking from the sheriff to her, as if she had answers.
“I think you need to look at other suspects,” Miranda said quietly.
Trevino’s jaw tightened. “I don’t appreciate being told how to do my job.”
“We’re not telling you that. We’re just saying that you have the wrong man,” Noah said.
The sheriff growled in his throat. “I’m keeping him there for violating his parole, for now,” he said. “I’ll look at Devin.”
“Look at Sheridan, too,” Miranda said, the name popping into her head.
“Who’s Sheridan?” the sheriff asked as Noah turned to her.
“The cowboy whose arm Ben broke? Why would he come after me?” Noah asked.
“Not you. Me. We beat him in court, he’s out of a job and angry. I don't know if he would do something like that, but you said a slender man was seen in the shadows. He wasn't a big guy.”
Noah was still watching her. “What made you say that?”
“I don't know, it just popped into my head. But the deputy was asking us the other day if we had anyone mad at us. I couldn't think of anyone besides Damian, and he’d never do anything like that.”
“Who’s Damian?” Trevino asked.
“Her ex,” Noah said. “Damian Bazaldua.”
The sheriff wrote the name down.
“He’s in New York,” she protested. “Not even in town. He’d never do anything like that.”
“Even knowing you had another man in your bed?” the sheriff asked.