by Rachel Lee
“Fire and police are separate?”
“Different codes, so while you’ll be able to access all public records, you won’t wander into any files you shouldn’t see.”
“Great. I was wondering how you worked it.”
“How it works is beyond my scope. I’m not an IT guy. It’s enough that it does.”
His tone held self-deprecating humor and she liked it. She felt herself smiling faintly as she went to get her laptop from the table by the front door.
When she returned, he had cleared the table except for the coffee, and was rifling through his notes. It was a thick stack, probably begun from the moment he’d first seen the Buell place in flames five days ago.
He folded some pages back, then pulled a cell phone off its belt clip. He punched in a number, reading from the sheet, and waited. Finally he put the phone down. “Fred must be out on the range. Cell connections can be questionable there.”
“Will we get him later?”
“No problem. He and his family are staying in town with his wife’s sister.”
She opened her laptop, skipped through photos to one of the tiny holes in the charred wood. “We have a scenario now. Impossible, but valid.”
“I know.” He stared at the photo. “It’s not impossible, but it’s disturbing. Sickening even.”
She nodded her agreement. It appeared that someone had drilled small holes and filled the walls of the house with a volatile accelerant. It would sit in those walls, little of it escaping because the place had probably been fairly well sealed up for the frigid winters. Seeping throughout the building until the walls had become a bomb ready for one spark. Until it built up in the attic.
Devious. Diabolical. A fire in the walls would have plenty of fuel from the timber framing. It would probably spread quite a way before it did enough damage for smoke to seep out and set off the alarms. In such an old house, it was doubtful the walls were filled with a nonflammable insulation, but even if they were, the frame could have provided enough chinks for the fire to spread once it got hot enough. And some of the hottest, fastest fires were those that smoked for a long time because they didn’t get enough oxygen, releasing even more volatile vapors until flashover was possible the instant oxygen poured in.
She flipped back to the assessor’s record and saw the house was a century old. In those days insulation often consisted of newspapers, if any was used at all. Plaster walls, like gypsum board, were fairly noncombustible, but between the house siding and the interior walls, a whole world of possibilities lay. “Do you have any idea if the wiring was inside the walls?”
He looked up from his notes. “No. The house was built before we had electricity out here.” He paused. “You’re thinking an accelerant could have spent a lot of time inside those walls without escaping. No socket holes.”
She nodded, making a note. “I’m not a criminalist,” she said. “You really need your state arson investigator. I need to be clear on that, because most of what I know involves detecting fraud, not solving fires.”
“I understand. But you’ve already helped, just by noticing that hole. I can’t believe I kept missing them.”
“I can. I never would have found that one if I hadn’t been brushing charred wood away. Too small. It would pass for a nail hole, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how often nails pop out in fires because of expansion differences. It hit me only because it was right above one of your ignition points.”
“As hot as that fire was, they might still be nail holes.”
She pushed the computer back and rested her cheeks in her palms, her brain spinning around with ideas, most of which she discarded. “It’s the only explanation for the way you described it.”
“So far.” He turned some more pages on his clipboard. “By the time we arrived, the barn had collapsed, the house was fully engulfed and only minutes from collapsing. Most of our job seemed to be cooling things down. An accelerant filling the walls, maybe suffusing the attic, would explain it all perfectly. Nothing else I can think of does.”
She lifted her head, folding her arms on the table. “This guy scares me, Wayne. He terrifies me.”
This arsonist was indeed the stuff of nightmares.
Chapter 3
Wayne left a short while later, after making sure she could access the Wi-Fi and reach the records of the earlier arsons. By comparison, those seemed trivial, and she was inclined to think they weren’t the work of the person who’d torched the Buell place. Then she warned herself not to leap to conclusions, a dangerous place to go on any investigation.
She also reminded herself that she wasn’t here to solve the crime, merely to clear the most obvious suspect, Fred Buell. But after seeing that homestead, she had a hunger to do a lot more than that.
She called a fire department arson investigator she knew in Atlanta and discussed her suspicions with him. For long moments the phone line was silent after she finished explaining. Then Mark Vincent swore explosively. “That’s a whole new level.”
“But it would work?”
“It sure could. And if you’re looking for perps, you should be on the lookout for abandoned places, out of the way. I don’t know what it’s like out there, but he had to have tested this somewhere unless he was just damn lucky.”
She sat bolt upright. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Why would you? It’s not your job.” He paused. “What are you doing out there?”
“My job. But curiosity is killing me.”
He laughed. “Go for it. Just don’t lose your job over it. And keep me posted. Damn! Now I’ve got something new to worry about. Keep this under your hat.”
“Trust me, I’m not planning to hand out ideas.”
“Good. Charity, I know you’ve already figured out this had to be well planned. This guy had to drill all those holes beforehand. He couldn’t have put any accelerant in the walls until he had his access points. Too much danger of throwing off a spark. Then after he inserts the accelerant, he’s got to wait for the vapors to work their way through the house. A day, maybe two. And he has to do all this without being seen. Check into when everyone would have been away from the house.”
“Will do.”
“And he had to have used some kind of timed ignition device. He sure as hell didn’t run around throwing matches in all those holes. Although it’s possible that once the accelerant spread around, one ignition would have set off the whole shebang. Have they found anything?”
“Not yet, as far as I know.”
He swore again. “I want to hear all about this. Really.”
“For you and you alone.” She certainly wasn’t going to write it into her report to the insurance company. She doubted Wayne wanted it in his files, either. Need-to-know on this one, unless they caught the guy.
The prospect of an arrest and a trial appealed to her, but it always did. Unfortunately, she knew how rare and unlikely that was.
Deciding it was time to quit for the day, unless Wayne called to tell her they had a meeting with Fred Buell, she carried her phone into the living room and settled comfortably on the couch. Evening was beginning to arrive, judging by the deepening shadows outside. She’d sure picked a weird business to get into, considering that she hated problems she couldn’t solve quickly. These investigations could run into days and weeks, or even months, depending. Once she cleared the property owner, her part would be done.
But instead of thinking that she might be able to go home in a few days, she wondered instead if she might be able to hang around longer and take some vacation time. Wayne wanted help, and he wasn’t dismissing her puny efforts.
That brought her full circle to the gnat that she’d been batting away all day: her strong attraction to Wayne Camden. While she wasn’t into short flings, wanting something a little more durable and
solid, she began to wonder if she might be able to manage it just once.
She’d felt attractions many times in her life, and most of them evaporated the minute she walked away from the guy. Wayne was different somehow. He was creeping into her thoughts even when he wasn’t around. She kept seeing him in various mental snapshots—out at the Buell ranch, in his office, in the kitchen here. His smile. His body.
She wondered what it would feel like to have his arms around her. His lips on hers. Her head on his shoulder. To explore him with her hands and discover his shape and texture in the most basic of ways. In short, she felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush. She had to look back to her teens to remember feeling like this.
A quiver of yearning settled between her legs, the first she had felt in a while. It made her feel heavy with expectancy, anticipation. Longing.
Oh, boy. She snapped her eyes open and forced herself to sit up. Running in mental circles about the arson would be more productive than this. Especially when she was beginning to realize that as long as she held this job, any man she invited into her life was going to get fed up, eventually. Two had already ditched her for that reason. She spent entirely too much time on the road or involved in investigations. She definitely didn’t work on a clock. No guarantee she’d be there for a dinner, or a weekend or a movie. Her company’s interests were far-flung, and when a fire was questionable, answers needed to be provided fast. The insured deserved that speed, and the company’s reputation demanded it.
She knew some in her position who worked entirely from a home base, sorting through information that was turned in to them by fire investigators and the police. Researching the credit reports on the insured, learning whether other insurance was also involved. Her company preferred to have one of their own investigators go on scene, feeling they might be able to learn things that wouldn’t be reported, and also feeling they could get quicker resolutions.
As she’d found over the past five years, they were right. Just hanging around and talking to people sometimes brought useful information to light that wasn’t in any report anywhere. And in this case, she’d already learned something very important that wasn’t in any of the fire department’s paperwork.
Someone had a serious grudge with the Buell family. Serious enough to go to this much effort to wipe them out. Either that, or Buell had done this himself, because it was hard to imagine who else would have that kind of access to his property. Which was something else she needed to discuss with the man. Hired hands? Contractors?
Then there was the question of how fortunate he’d been to get his family out of that place. Looking at it, she imagined they had had to move awfully fast. Either that or they hadn’t been in the house when it had gone up. Which meant she needed to talk to the wife, as well. They probably wouldn’t let anyone near the kids, but it was worth a try.
None of these questions would have arisen if she’d worked from the fire department’s assessment, Buell’s credit report and a few phone interviews.
Her phone rang. Her caller ID announced it was the entire state of Wyoming. She always found that ID amusing and was smiling when she answered, sure it was Wayne to tell her they had an appointment this evening with Fred Buell.
It was Wayne, all right.
“Hi, Charity. Wayne. We can’t see the Buells tonight because their church is holding a fund-raising potluck for them and they have to be there. He said he could be in my office at eight in the morning, though. Okay with you?”
“Definitely okay. That’s nice of their church.”
“We’re mostly nice people around here, even if it doesn’t look like it right now.”
Her smile widened a shade and she was sure he could hear it in her voice. As it was, she loved his smooth baritone pouring into her ear. “Most people are nice when you get to meet them.”
There was a pause. Then he said, “My daughter has abandoned me for her boyfriend tonight. Can you imagine it?”
That elicited a laugh from Charity. “Naw. Really?” she teased.
“I know. Something about true love and hormones. Anyway...”
He hesitated and her heart quickened. She closed her eyes and nearly crossed her fingers. She didn’t care how stupid she was being because nobody else knew it.
“So...wanna hit the diner with me for some coffee or dessert? I promise I won’t mention arson.”
Her heart lifted as if it suddenly filled with helium. This man was trouble on the hoof, but right now she didn’t care. She just wanted to sit across a table from him and actually talk with him, instead of imagining that he was with her.
“Sure,” she answered. “Sounds good to me.”
“Want me to pick you up?”
“That would be super. Give me a few?”
“Twenty minutes?”
“Plenty.” When she disconnected, she looked at her phone as if it had developed a life of its own. She had just made a date with the chief. Really.
Feeling a bit giddy, she jumped up and went to get into some clean jeans and a light sweater and brush out her hair. Some things were worth risking, even if you were miserable later.
* * *
A half hour later, they sat in a corner booth at the diner with tall lattes and slices of rich cherry pie in front of them.
“So is Linda abandoning you a lot these days?” she asked.
“She’s seventeen. What can a father expect? She has an actual life now, which she’s told me more than once.”
Charity stifled a laugh. “I can almost hear it. I think I used to say the same thing.”
“I think all of us did in one way or another.” He raised his fork with a mouthful of pie on it then paused. “What about you? Any kids?”
“If I had kids I wouldn’t be here. At present, I’d need someone to give me a photo to remind me what my own apartment looks like.”
He nodded. “Traveling all the time?”
“A lot of it.” Might as well have that clear, although it hadn’t saved her in the past. The fact that she was leaving soon might be her only salvation.
“That makes it hard.” He chewed and swallowed his pie. “Any future plans?”
“For kids you mean? Not exactly. I’m not married but I am thirty-two. What I’m noticing is that babies are getting cuter with every passing year.”
He laughed, a rich sound of enjoyment. “Funny how they do that. People keep asking if I’m glad to be almost done with child raising. First off, I’m not sure you ever stop being a parent, but second, I’ve been noticing how babies are getting cuter, too.”
She joined his laughter. “The old biological urges are pretty strong.”
A flame ignited briefly in his eyes. “Yeah, they sure are. There are times since Linda became a teenager that I’ve been glad I didn’t have any more in the pipeline. But now that she’s getting ready to leave...” He shrugged. “I’m going to miss it. And don’t tell her I said that.”
Everything inside her softened for some reason. “I suspect she knows that, but mum’s the word.”
“Oh, she knows she has me wrapped around her finger. I haven’t driven my own car since she got her license.”
Charity laughed again. “I bet you stay wrapped because she doesn’t abuse it.”
“No, she doesn’t. She’s a really good young woman. But it’s time for her to fly.” He looked down and ate some more pie, letting her choose where to go or to fall silent.
She drank some of the latte to wash down the pie. It was tart, not unbearably sweet like many cherry pies. “I was noticing your firefighters.”
He looked up. “Why?”
“Because they’re in remarkably good shape for a rural department.”
“Ah.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m a slave driver about that. To keep the job, you have to keep in shape. It’s a
regular lecture. Otherwise they endanger everyone, including themselves.”
“I’ve visited some departments where they don’t seem to understand that.”
“So have I. But we’re lucky enough to have weight-training equipment and treadmills. They get used, not dusty. It’s probably a lot harder for an all-volunteer department.”
She realized she had brought the conversation back around to business. It might not be arson, but it was still about work. His work. When he had called he had sounded like he wanted a break. She ate some more pie as she considered a different direction to take. Problem was, she didn’t know him well enough to guess what might interest him.
She watched as he finished his dessert and pushed the plate aside. After he’d wiped his mouth, he regarded her across the booth with a faint smile. “I made you uncomfortable.”
Her heart lurched. “Why do you think that?”
“Because I asked you out for what’s essentially a date, you’re not really interested because you’ll be leaving soon and now you’re sitting there trying to make casual conversation with someone you have nothing in common with except work.”
He’d nailed it. She returned his look, feeling strangely miserable. Just a little while ago she’d felt giddy about meeting him, and now she was uncomfortable and floundering. What was wrong with her?
“It’s okay,” he said. “I know you’re leaving. This is what you want to make it and nothing more. I like you, and you’re an attractive woman. But maybe mixing business and pleasure was a stupid idea on my part.”
“No,” she said impulsively. He arched a brow, waiting. “I was glad that you asked me out. Truly. I like you, too. It’s just that...” She hesitated. How truthful should she be? She’d barely met the guy. Not a time for heart-to-hearts about problems that wouldn’t matter in the long run.
His gaze wandered away for a few seconds then snapped back to her. “I shouldn’t have taken the fire off the table. That kind of leaves us with no other connection under the circumstance. So it’s back on the table if you want. As for other subjects...well, we have an advantage here.”