by Rachel Lee
Ken laughed. “Got anything better to offer a woman around here? Maude’s, the movies, Mahoney’s bar. The Three Ms.”
“Makes it hard,” Randy agreed. “My current girl is always complaining. I tell her we could go camping.”
That set off another round of laughter.
Donna watched them, a faint smile on her lips. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about the upcoming budget cuts. You might be looking for work.”
Groans answered her. They were having fun and didn’t want to get serious. Only Randy looked disturbed by what she said.
“This happens every couple of years,” Ken remarked, eyeing Randy. “We never get anything essential cut and you know it, Donna.”
“They sound a whole lot more serious this time.” Donna sauntered over to the table. “Deal me in, guys. I’ll show you what a real woman can do.”
Chapter 4
Morning brought gray skies, and the weather forecast tiptoed around the possibility of rain later in the afternoon.
Wayne had found no sign of trouble around his house, but as Linda was leaving for school he warned her to be careful.
She looked at him oddly, with her mother’s dark eyes. She was a lovely young woman, starting to lose the youthful roundness to a clearer bone structure in her face. With each change, Wayne felt the impending loss. Someday she’d be leaving for good to start her own home.
“What’s going on, Dad?”
“Maybe nothing. You’ve heard about the fires? That’s all. Some lunatic on the loose, so just be careful.”
“I always am.”
He watched her drive away in his car, then set out in his official vehicle. For the first time since Lisa left, he had a woman other than his daughter on his mind. Charity Atkins danced around the edges of nearly every thought he had.
He blamed the fascination on her being new around here. Well, that and the fact that she was built to catch a man’s eye. But someone fresh always caught attention. All the faces in town were familiar to him, most of them married and all of them friends.
So a new woman, totally new, comes along, and of course he felt a fascination. He knew it could never be more than that, but he didn’t mind fantasizing about it. Her leaving was a guaranteed exit point before things got too mixed up.
The most it could ever be was a couple of rolls in the hay, and her own clear reasons for distrusting men only made it better. No strings, no mess, no stupid decisions to be regretted later.
He knew she was attracted to him. Her face revealed very little, but failed to conceal everything. He caught a look in her eyes, and knew. But each time she felt it, he watched her pull back. Good. He got the ego boost without the trouble.
He tried not to think about his ex-wife, told himself the scars were all patched, but sometimes he wondered. They’d been married for thirteen years before she bailed. Thirteen good years, he had thought. Then she’d escaped because life in the boonies was driving her insane?
He still had trouble believing that was the only reason. Glenwood Springs wasn’t much bigger, but apparently it had spoiled her for life here, maybe because it catered to tourists. On the surface it had seemed brighter and fresher, unlike Conard City, which was clearly a working town barely hanging on, at least until the ski resort opened this fall. So while she’d never said one bad word about him, except for the hours he worked, he often wondered what else had been going on. She’d left here for Denver, had remarried and took Linda most summers.
He still shook his head over the whole thing. He could empathize with what Charity had said about her job ruining relationships. His job may have been the biggest factor for Lisa. In a big-city department, the chief could often work regular hours behind a desk. Here he was just another firefighter with added duties that ate up time.
But he hadn’t been willing to quit. Nor had Lisa asked him to. He gave her credit for that. She had some inkling of the nightmares he lived with, and why he had wanted to work a quieter town.
Not that he wasn’t building a whole new set of nightmares, especially lately.
He pulled up to the station and around the outside drive to park in the bay behind the trucks. Everything gleamed from the constant attention. When firefighters weren’t at fires or accident scenes, they worked on equipment and their station. Just last spring they’d painted the whole place inside and out.
There had to be some outlet for all that energy.
Which brought him back to the firefighter hypothesis for arson. He hadn’t noticed the kind of discontent that would lead any of his team to do something like the Buell place, but he didn’t know everything.
The idea that someone who worked for him might be behind this made him feel sick. Really sick.
But that attempted arson at Charity’s house bothered him just as much. Sure, it could have been a copycat, a kid who wanted a thrill. Maybe it was a message, never intended to be lit. The message idea nagged at him. What if Charity was right, that someone thought she was a threat?
Scary thought, but it hardly made him feel any better to think bored kids could be getting ideas from the rash of arsons.
He felt pretty grim by the time he’d greeted everyone and entered his office. He glanced at his watch and saw he had twenty minutes before Fred and Charity would arrive. He reached in his bottom drawer and added some more notes to a private file he was keeping on the Buell case. Later, when they’d cleared up the facts as much as they could, he’d enter the salient points to the regular file. But for right now, he didn’t want anyone to know their suspicions about how this fire had been set.
It felt odd to be keeping secrets. He never did that. But this time he didn’t know whom he could trust, even here at the firehouse. He supposed some of this needed to be shared with the sheriff, but not just yet. First a conversation with Fred Buell.
Donna entered and he flipped the file closed. She put a cup of coffee on his desk. She did that every morning, even though he’d never asked her to. Once he’d even tried to tease her out of it, telling her that she was still a member of the department and he could get his own coffee like everyone else. It was the unspoken sexism that got to him, but he didn’t know how to stop her.
“How’s the investigation going, Chief?”
“Like every other arson investigation. Nowhere.”
She nodded and leaned a shoulder against the wall, folding her arms. “They’re tough, all right. You don’t think Fred Buell did it, though?”
“Not likely. Unless they were all lying, that family barely made it out. Fred loves his kids.”
“That he does.” She hesitated. “I saw you having coffee with that arson investigator. I was hoping she could come up with something.”
His alert bell started ringing, even though it was a perfectly normal question. Any fireman might have asked it. But after last night, he was worried about Charity, despite her idea that being perceived as a threat could bait the arsonist into making a mistake. He didn’t like that plan at all. Maybe if he made her role appear simpler and less threatening word would get around, and she wouldn’t get any more messages.
“It was just coffee. Seemed like the neighborly thing to do, seeing as how she doesn’t know anyone here. But she’s not that kind of investigator anyway.”
Donna looked surprised. “What kind is she?”
“The paperwork kind. Not like when we get the state down here. If we ever do. She doesn’t solve arsons, she just determines whether the owner or his agent might have been involved.”
“Oh.” Donna hesitated. “Too bad. I thought you were getting a lot of help finally.”
“Not yet.”
God, he hated deception. Charity had already helped him immensely, perhaps because she’d seen the investigations of so many fires, maybe because she’d fought them once herself. If she never offe
red another lick of an idea, she’d offered enough already. Enough to seriously worry him.
“So what’s the story on the attempted arson at Hank Jackson’s rental?” Donna asked.
“I was just writing it up,” he lied with too much ease. “Looks as though some kid got an idea that shouldn’t be going around.”
She nodded and straightened, evidently getting ready to go back to work. “That’s what I heard from the guys. Just wondered if you thought something different. Need anything, just holler.”
“I will,” he promised. He wondered if Donna hated being stuck at a desk away from the action, then shrugged the thought away. If she did, she could find other employment, he was sure.
Two minutes later, just as he tucked his secret file away and locked the drawer and was about to start his incident report from last night, Donna entered again. “Insurance adjuster here for the fire the other day.”
He stifled a sigh and sat back. “Send him in.”
A portly man of about fifty or so shuffled in, his suit looking rumpled. “You need a better motel” were his first words as he stuck out his hand. “Larry Grimes.”
Wayne shook his hand and offered him a seat, then accepted the guy’s business card. “You’re just here for the Mackey fire? Or are you doing Buell, as well?”
“From your report, there’s nothing left to assess at the Buell place.”
“Nothing.”
Grimes shrugged. “Then, I just need to talk to the Mackeys and look at the damage.” He pulled out a cell phone and tapped. “Grease fire, right?”
“No question. Hot oil on the stove, and apparently Mrs. Mackey got distracted for a moment. The point of ignition was obvious. They’re definitely going to need some help as soon as possible. Mrs. Mackey’s in the hospital with third-degree burns. You can probably find her husband there.”
Grimes tapped industriously. “What about the infant?”
“Fine, I guess. It was Mrs. Mackey’s sister’s baby. You’ll have to ask them. I don’t ride herd on all that. Just fires.”
Grimes rose. “Thanks for your time, Chief. If I need any more...?”
“I’m usually here unless there’s a fire.”
Grimes managed a faint smile. “We both need a life.” Then he walked out.
Cold fish, Wayne thought as he pulled the computer keyboard closer. Last night’s incident was going straight into the computer files. No need to open a paper one for that. But it was going to stay in his personal memory banks, along with a whole lot of other things.
Charity showed up a couple of minutes early, armed with her laptop. Today she wore a suit again, possibly to appear professional to Fred Buell. He rose and greeted her warmly, shaking her hand, aware that there were eyes everywhere. His secret longings could remain secret, especially from his team. Their coffee date had attracted enough attention. For the first time he felt a pang of sympathy for his ex. Sometimes Conard County felt like an awfully small fishbowl.
She crossed her legs with the sexiest sound of swishing nylon, or whatever they made hose out of these days. He didn’t often see them anymore.
Donna immediately popped in with coffee for her. Charity smiled warmly. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to.”
Donna shrugged. “I’m keeper of the coffee. What can I say? You need more, Chief?”
“I’m fine, Donna. Thanks.” When she closed the door behind her, he said, sotto voce, “I’ve tried to convince her not to bring me coffee.”
Charity smiled broadly. “Maybe it makes her feel useful.”
“She’s already useful. Fred should be here any minute.”
“I hope the fund-raiser went well. He’s going to need it.” She frowned faintly. “I need to talk to you again.”
“Away from all this?”
“Let’s just say I don’t want it getting around. I meant to tell you last night, but then we were avoiding the topic.”
“True.” He’d been at work for twenty-five minutes and already he was beginning to feel irritated. That wasn’t like him. Too much worry? Maybe. “Your adjuster just left a few minutes ago to look at the Mackey place.”
“The fire from the other day? Good. No point in keeping people waiting.”
“He’s not going to look at the Buell fire.”
She shook her head a little. “No point in it. I told the company it’s a total loss.”
“Just as well. I hope he’s gentle with the Mackeys.”
She regarded him with concern. “Did he say something?”
“I just don’t like him. I got the feeling he’d rather be anyplace else on the planet.”
“He works out of Casper. This shouldn’t be the ends of the earth for him.”
“For some it is,” he admitted. “Anyway...”
“I’ll tell you ‘anyway.’ If this guy gives the Mackeys any trouble, let me know. Their plates are full enough right now.”
He really did like her. He liked her instant concern for people she didn’t even know. Too bad she was flitting through like a lovely butterfly. “I also let it be known what your job really is. That you’re not here to solve the arson.”
She blinked. “I thought we talked about scaring the guy. Why did you find that necessary?”
“Because of a heap of fire-starting materials last night and a question I got this morning.”
A slow, warm smile dawned on her face. “You do like to take care of people, Chief. You’re a protective man.”
He hadn’t blushed since high school, but his cheeks warmed a little. He hoped it wasn’t visible. “That’s the only reason I stay in this job. Helping people. Few enough other benefits.”
“And plenty of PTSD,” she said, her smile fading and her voice quieting. “Fires, auto accidents... I had enough in little more than a year. I honestly don’t know how you guys keep coming to work every day.”
He couldn’t answer that. Sometimes you just had to do it because it needed doing. Because you could, and a lot of other people couldn’t.
A sharp rap on the door and Fred Buell walked in. A man in his midthirties, today he looked a lot older. In less than a week he’d lost enough weight that his jeans bunched under his belt. Wayne rose and made the introductions, then pulled a chair in from the outer office so that Buell could sit. Fred’s face seemed frozen somehow, as if it would crack if he tried to smile. A man barely holding it together.
“I ain’t got much time,” he said. He looked at Charity. “I know it’s important, but I have to take care of my herd. If I lose too many of them, I won’t be able to feed my babies.”
“I’m trying to help with that,” Charity said gently. “Really. This isn’t a trial and I’m not making any accusations, okay? I just need some help here.”
Buell nodded, turning his battered, stained cowboy hat in his hands. “Ain’t never seen a fire like that. Heard them damn smoke detectors screaming like mad, me and the wife jumped up and there’s fire some places on the ceilings. On the ceilings, by God! Grabbed the kids, ran down the stairs and got the hell out the back door. Couldn’t get out the front.”
“Why not?”
“Porch was a wall of fire. Lucky we could get out the back.” He shook his head. “It’s a hard time to give thanks, but I’m giving thanks for my family. A minute or two more and we’d be dead.”
Charity’s expression had grown grim. “I am so, so sorry.”
Buell looked at her. “Got outside and grabbed the hose, but it was too late. Couldn’t cool any of it. Didn’t even try to save the barn. I could hear them animals screaming...” He looked down.
Both Charity and Wayne remained silent, giving the man some time. Finally he swallowed hard and raised his head again. “What do you need?”
“What kind of smoke detectors did you have?”
“Battery ones. Put ’em in just a month ago. Never thought I’d be so glad.”
Wayne’s interest perked. So did Charity’s, he could see. She spoke. “Any particular reason you put them in?”
“Been meaning to, but you know how that is. Edna started badgering me after them arsons, and I decided to do it. Stopped by here to ask where to put ’em. Donna out front told me every bedroom and downstairs in the kitchen, and at the top of the stairs. She even came out to make sure I done it right. That lady knows her stuff.”
“Yes, she does,” Wayne said. “It’s her job and she does it well. And everyone should have smoke detectors.”
“Reckon I know that now.” He sighed. “What else?”
“Did you fire anybody in the past year?” Charity asked.
“Nope. Hands come and go. Most rarely stay long enough to screw up.”
“Any work contracted out recently?”
“Hailstorm last fall dinged up the siding pretty bad. I hate that metal stuff. Roof was fine, but not the walls. So yeah, we hired someone to do it.” He looked at Charity. “You all paid for most of it.”
“So lots of strangers on the place?”
“A few. Good workers, though. Had to send them home at dusk to get some peace so the babies could settle.”
“No other strangers?”
He shook his head.
Charity smiled gently at him. “Just one more question. How often are you and the entire family gone from the ranch?”
“Every Sunday morning. That’s it. Sometimes I’m out on the range, and once in a while the missus will take the kids into town. Can’t say it’s regular or nothing. She usually does the shopping on Saturdays because she can get me to watch the kids. Or Sunday after church we all go.” He shook his head again. “You can’t leave a ranch alone for long.”
“I don’t suppose so. I think that’s it,” Charity said. “I appreciate your time.”
Buell looked straight at her. “You don’t think I done it, do you?”
She shook her head. “No, sir, I don’t. But I need just a little more for my report. How can I contact you?”