by Lyn Cote
They sat down facing each other. After a greeting, a harried waitress wiped their cleared table and brought them water and menus.
Burke wished he could think of something to say, something that would lighten the gloom, shadowing Keely's lovely face. Instead, he stared at the green vinyl menu. Sudden hunger attacked him. "What do you recommend?"
"I usually have," she replied from behind her menu, "burgers and fries, and please no comments about my cholesterol level." A trace of her characteristic wry humor sounded in her voice.
It eased his tension a notch.
The white-aproned waitress rejoined them. Keely and he ordered, and the waitress left them, promising to return with freshly brewed decaf coffee and cream.
Burke concentrated on looking calm. He'd learned over the years that this made it easier to deal with any problem. "We have to discuss the fires." He kept his voice and manner businesslike.
Keely looked down at the table. propping an elbow there. "I have a hard time believing everything that happened tonight really happened. Veda, Grady, Nick." She sighed and rested her head into one hand.
He nodded, listening to the raucous country and western ballad playing in the background, a counterpoint to the somber pall that hung over their booth. "I'm afraid we may have a serial fire setter on our hands."
She looked up, her brows lifted. "What do you mean?"
"I could be wrong, but I was afraid that the first fire might spark this kind of behavior."
"I'm not following you, Burke."
He sucked in air. "Sorry. I guess I'm tired. Hard to marshal my facts. My shift ends in an hour, and I think my brain is shutting down." And being alone with you isn't helping me concentrate.
"Take your time."
"Okay." Making himself focus on the facts and not on the way her hair was slipping out of her topknot, he tightened his mouth. "That first fire was a crime of opportunity. Couldn't have been planned unless the custodian was in on it, and we know he wasn't."
"Yes."
"But there's always a chance—" his jaw clenched—"when a kid who has problems sets a fire for revenge or just to cause trouble, it can trigger ...excitement, a thrill, a rush. And a fire gets them more attention. And that's what they wanted in the first place. Then it can become an addiction."
She gazed at him. "That's not good to hear."
Being so near her all evening was lowering his resistance to her, more and more. "Not good at all." He shook his head. "And that's an understatement."
"Did you get any evidence?" Her hair slipped farther. Then the topknot gave way, and her hair flowed down onto one shoulder.
"I think so."
"Well?" she prompted, reaching up and releasing the derelict clips that had failed her. "Sorry," she murmured and ran her fingers through her hair.
Fighting the urge to reach over and touch the spun gold in her hair, he pulled a short, blackened metal wire from his uniform jacket and handed it to her.
She took it, turned it over, peering at it in the garish lighting of the truck stop. "What is it?"
"We think it was a sparkler." He swallowed to moisten his dry mouth.
"What?"
"One of the firefighters recognized it. It's what's left of a sparkler." Farther forward in the restaurant, a couple slid out of their booth. Both tried to get a good look at Keely and Burke but hide it at the same time. Their expression made him feel how he didn't belong here with this classy woman.
"Like a Fourth of July sparkler?" she asked, disbelief coloring her tone.
He nodded.
"Is this evidence? Should I be touching it?"
"No, fingerprints aren't possible."
She let out a sigh. "Did anyone see someone burning sparklers before the game?"
He heard the continued skepticism in her voice. "No, the firefighter told me he's seen this before. Kids drop sparklers they think are burned out into the trash, and hours later the trash bin explodes into flames. That's why you're supposed to dispose of sparklers in a can. They get so hot that they hold enough heat to ignite paper if the conditions are right."
She frowned. "You know I think I've heard of something like that before."
Intruding, the waitress brought their bowls of soup.
After a cautious sip of his hot, salty soup, Burke forced himself to return to the topic at hand. But looking up, he watched Keely slide her hair behind one ear. The sight melted his resistance. Being here with Keely again was making him forget his life as it had been and must stay. He couldn't let himself fall under Keely's spell of honesty and compassion. His proven inability to take the responsibility to love, stretched between them. I can't give her what she needs, what she deserves.
"So you found this, but does that mean we have a serial fire setter? Is that what you call it?"
"We found several of those dead sparklers shoved down into waste bins in the parking lot and around the outside of the school. But you're correct. I'm just hoping I'm wrong. But 'serial fire setter' feels right to me now." He shrugged.
"When do you think the planting the sparklers was done?"
"Anytime before or during the game. Could have been hours before anyone even arrived for the game. An imperfect plan. Not every sparkler could be expected to ignite. And the timing could have been completely off and started after everyone had gone." He took refuge from responding to this woman in the facts. "But even a few would have been enough to create the desired effect. Give the firesetter his secret thrill."
She lowered her forehead into her hand. "It could have been anyone, right?"
He nodded. The high-pitched grind of an eighteen wheeler starting up interrupted.
"But it might not be a fire setter," Keely continued. "It could just be someone who wanted to cause a ruckus at the game tonight. It could even have been someone from the school we played tonight. Schools often play pranks on each other."
He nodded again, watching her push her thick hair back from her face.
"But you don't think so," she added.
He put down his spoon. "I don't know what to think. Maybe I'm just jumping to a conclusion quickly because I'm so disgusted that I haven't been able to find out who's causing all this trouble and stop them."
He didn't want to think it, but his gut was telling him that this might be the beginning of a series of fires. A serial fire setter. That's all they'd needed.
An hour later Burke walked Keely to her car. "I'll let you know the minute I get any information."
"Please do." She stood looking at him.
He found he couldn't break the invisible connection.
She gazed at him a long time as though wanting to say something more. But finally, she opened her car door and got inside. With a wave, she started her SUV and drove out of the lot.
He watched her go, words he'd longed to say to her had clotted in his throat. He jogged over to his Jeep and headed toward the highway, heading home. The stars glittered in the black cloudless sky. The fall chill made him turn on the defroster. His cell phone rang.
"Burke, this is Harlan."
"Harlan? I thought you'd be asleep by now."
"Having trouble sleeping tonight and got to thinking . . ."
"Yes?"
"Is the A&W on 27 on your way home?"
"Sure. I'm on my way now and will pass right by it."
"Pick me up a black cow, okay?"
Burke chuckled. "Well, that will keep you up all night."
"Yep."
"Okay. Home soon."
Burke drove down the deserted highway. It was nearing midnight. Fatigue was setting in. Keely's face as it had looked tonight came and went in his mind.
He pulled in at the A&W. The parking lot was crowded. The under-twenty-one crowd must gather here after games. He walked inside and up to the counter, the scent of fried onion rings filling his head. Pop music was playing, and the buzz of voices was loud, laughter, a girlish squeal.
Then a shout and a shriek.
Burke spun around. His
stomach sank.
Surrounded by kids, Grady and Nick were sparring in the middle of the aisle of booths.
"Police!" Burke bellowed. He plowed his way to the two kids. "Break it up! Now!" He brandished his nightstick.
Nick fell back in front of Burke with hands held high. "I didn't start it!"
Grady swung around to confront Burke. Breathing hard, the teen bunched up his shoulder as if he were about to throw a punch.
Burke stared him down. Silence blanketed the room, only the rock music intruding.
Grady slowly lowered his fists, a sneer spreading over his face. "It's good you came. You saved Nick from getting his rear kicked good. He caught me by surprise at the game."
Ignoring this, Burke said, "Let's go, both of you."
Both teens' mouths flew open. "What!"
He collared both of them and dragged them toward the door.
Shane stepped out of the crowd. "Hey!"
"Shane," Burke barked over his shoulder, "buy Harlan Carey a black cow and take it over to him. I'm going to be busy down at the station."
Chapter Ten
Early the next afternoon, Keely walked out of the pizza parlor in Steadfast. The twin fragrances of garlic and oregano hung in the doorway. The Weavers, with little Rachel and five-year-old son, Zak, had invited her along with Harlan, Nick, and Burke to go for lunch after church. They needed to discuss the Family Closet workday this weekend. Before winter, the shop needed reroofing, and several men had volunteered to supply the labor, Harlan, Burke, and Nick among them.
Keely had noted that these three had been quieter than usual, almost somber during the meal. In fact, Nick hadn't said one word, but fresh anger crackled in his eyes. She'd hoped sitting with the team last night would help. But the fight with Grady may have undone any benefit from that. Had Burke given Nick a hard time about the fight last night at home?
Burke's shuttered look moved her. She longed to touch his arm, draw him away to comfort him. She blocked that temptation.
Last night after the game, she'd ordered both Nick and Grady to report to her office the first thing on Monday morning. She shook her head, not looking forward to that interview. This fighting between Grady and Nick only heightened the awkward position her father had put her in. Why hadn't her father realized that by insisting Grady be one of her students he might be jeopardizing her relationship with her brother for the rest of their lives?
Oh, Lord, give me the wisdom of Solomon. I'm going to need it to get through to Grady.
After the darker interior of the pizza place, the glaring sunshine made her squint. Across the street, a squirrel chattered from above in a red and yellow maple. She turned to say goodbye to the Weavers.
The sound of squealing brakes made them all whirl toward the street.
"You! Sloan!" Franklin Turner's voice boomed across Main Street. "I saw your Jeep!" Leaving his car still running, her father jumped out and ran across to them.
Seeing the outraged expression on his face, Keely prepared for the worst. But why here? Why now?
Burke merely waited for her father. But Nick's face took on a deeper truculence, and Harlan frowned darkly.
In his black suit with his stiffly starched shirt, Burke looked more than her father's equal. In fact, her father looked like the child, Burke the man.
"What do you mean arresting my son last night?"Turner thundered into Burke's face.
Keely's breath caught in her throat. Arrest? Why hadn't anyone told her about this?
"He was fighting in public." Burke's voice was cool.
"Who do you think you are? Grady is a Turner. You should have called me."
"He was breaking the law," Burke replied evenly.
"Well, I'm instructing my attorney to file a false arrest suit against you—"
"Hold up there, Franklin," Harlan said, raising a hand.
Heedless, her father went on. "I'll tie you up with litigation—"
"I said," Harlan interrupted again, "hold up!"
Politely Burke had already shifted his attention to the older gentleman. This made Keely proud of Burke and more ashamed of her father. She took a step forward, ready to nudge him to be polite to Harlan.
Finally, Turner glanced at Harlan. "This matter doesn't concern you, Carey."
"It does. It concerns everyone in this town." Harlan moved right in front of Turner. "Now your father isn't here, so I guess it's up to me to set you straight."
"Set me straight?" Turner twisted his voice with sarcasm.
The older man's pluck impressed Keely. Not many dared to stand up to her father.
Harlan ignored Turner's disrespectful tone. "Your father was a hard man, but he was honest. I can't approve of the way you've lived so self-centered, but you have still kept the mill open here and that's something."
Turner sputtered.
Harlan cut him off. "I've watched your daughter since she was a child trying to make up for your not doing what you should. You've been given much, and you've given very little back to your community. It's time you rolled up your sleeves and helped your daughter—"
Her father tried to interrupt, but Harlan went on in an even voice. "Your boy is in trouble. Doesn't it concern you that he was bothering a young woman and started two fights last night?"
Her father glowered at the older man. "My son didn't start anything. It's that punk." He pointed to Nick. "If he'd stayed in Milwaukee where he belongs, my boy wouldn't—"
"He started it!" Nick flared. "And he better leave Jayleen—"
"It takes two to make a fight," Harlan insisted. "I was at the game last night, Turner, and you weren't. Your boy picked the fight. Not Nick."
Keely knew no one but Harlan Carey could have gotten away with this or would have had the nerve to speak truth like this.
"This is none of your business," her father snapped. He looked as though he was restraining himself from shoving Harlan out of his way.
"I live in Steadfast," Harlan continued. "How your son turns out is the business of everyone here."
"What--is-- your --point?" her father asked acidly.
"No one in this county wants the next owner of the mill to be the kind of person your son is heading toward being. Do something about it before it's too late."
Keely nearly gasped. Harlan had put her hidden fear into words. How could anyone trust Grady to be the main employer in the county?
Turner clenched and reclenched his fists. "Are you finished?"
Not looking the least intimidated, Harlan nodded and stepped back.
"My son is none of your business, Carey. He's my son to raise, and I'm doing just fine." He jerked his head toward Burke. "I'm not done with you, Sloan. You leave my son alone."
"If he obeys the law, I'll have nothing to do with him."Burke stared back at Turner, showing no fear.
Keely held her breath. Her father had been crossed twice in public. That had never happened in her experience.
Her father's face turned livid. He glared at her, and then he looked back at Burke. "Stay away from my daughter. I'll disinherit her before I'd let her marry an opportunist like you." Turning on his heel, he marched back to his car and sped away.
Trembling, Keely felt her face flame with embarrassment. This wasn't the first time her father had humiliated her in public, but this was the worst yet.
A self-conscious silence made them all mute. Keely noticed that a small crowd had gathered a few yards up the street. Great. Another public performance by a Turner. More tongue-clicking and gossip. Her pulse raced. She took a calming breath. Her father's insinuation that Burke was interested in her but only because of Turner money left her feeling...degraded.
Bitterness welled inside her. That's right, Father. No man would be interested in just me. He would have to be after your money. No wonder so few men here had ever tried to date her. Who'd want Franklin Turner as a father in law?
"So what happened last night?" she asked Harlan, forcing herself to break the uncomfortable silence.
&nbs
p; "I think that Burke should explain that to you," Harlan said, suddenly looking tired, old. Standing up to her father would sap anyone's strength. "Nick, let's go home. You need to study and I need a nap." The older man touched Nick's shoulder.
Nick sent his uncle an ugly, resentful glance. This took Keely by surprise. Why was Nick mad at his uncle? Was it still over the fight at the game?
"Okay." The teen gave Harlan his arm and then walked with him toward the truck parked on the street.
The Weavers said a discreet goodbye and left Burke and Keely side by side on Main Street.
Burke faced Keely. Her face downcast, she lowered her chin farther. Her golden eyelashes fanned her flushed cheeks. Now he felt why Nick had squared off with Grady twice in one night. Grady had harassed Jayleen. And now Turner had embarrassed his daughter. Burke only wished he could have landed a punch on Franklin Turner's face. How could a grown man make such a fool of himself in public? And worse yet, talk about his daughter like that?
Burke took a step closer and stopped. He'd kept his distance through church and through lunch and now here they were forced back together because of her brother and his nephew. He couldn't just walk away.
"Well, are you going to tell me?" She folded her arms in front of her. But her voice trembled slightly. She was evidently trying to arm herself for the next bad news.
The sight of her trying to handle this left him without words. She's worth ten of you, Turner. They needed some place they could talk in private. He glanced around. The shamefaced eavesdropping onlookers had dispersed. Fortunately, downtown was thin of people. Most everyone had gone home after church. Only the cafe and pizza place were open at this end of town.
Across the street, the silent courthouse stood among vivid autumn oaks and maples. He knew of a quiet bench in the rear where they could be alone. "Walk with me," he invited.
She nodded.
Pulling together his thoughts, he took her slender elbow and steered her toward the courthouse. Walking this close to her was an indulgence. He breathed in her spicy vanilla fragrance. Yet he felt a sinking sensation over having to tell her about Grady's finale last night.