"He said he suspected that she was, but she's never admitted it."
"Where are you going with this?" she asked.
"Not sure, but you might find it interesting to know that Jeffrey is a mechanic at a gas station."
"Which would make it pretty easy for him to get gallons of gas," she murmured. "You like him for a suspect?"
"He fits better with a motive for wanting to see Margaret dead than for setting fires to the schools. Although, his mother works at St. Andrew's, and he did say she chose her job over him."
She thought about that for a moment. "I keep going back to the fact that no one actually killed Margaret. She died after what we assume was a kidnapping. I just don't think her disappearance or her death was planned. Do you?"
"No, I don't. But I'm trying to cover all the bases." He paused. "What did you do today?"
"Well, I didn't find any new leads, but I did have an interesting conversation with your brother. It wasn't about you this time. It was about Stephanie. He was ringing up my order, and he suddenly dashed out to the street. He thought he saw her outside. But it wasn't her. When he came back in, he told me about his love for her."
Max shook his head. "Do I want to hear this?"
"Probably not. Your brother is very eloquent when it comes to his feelings."
"That he is," Max agreed. "Am I foolish to think Spencer will ever forget about Stephanie?"
"He said he'd like to have one more conversation with her, so I don't think he's planning to forget about her soon."
"If he tracks her down, it could be bad, Emma. She could call the cops. He could end up in trouble all over again."
She stopped at a red light and looked at his hard profile. She could hear the frustration in his voice. "I understand, Max, and you're right, Spencer should stay away from her, but I don't think he will. You can't control his actions. He's an adult. I know how it is with siblings. We want to protect them, but we can't. They have to make their own mistakes—just as we have to make ours."
He glanced at her. "Do you think last night was a mistake?"
"I don't have regrets, but I'm not sure what you want, Max."
"Do you know what you want?" he countered.
Some very dangerous words hovered on her lips—I want you. Somehow, she managed not to speak them.
The car behind her beeped its horn, and she realized the light was green. She really shouldn't be having this conversation while she was driving.
As she drew closer to the Marina, she noticed black smoke billowing into the sky.
"Fire," Max said.
"Yeah," she said, her body tensing.
"It looks like it's close to your place."
Her heart began to race and she pressed down on the gas. Sirens rang through the air. She saw engines racing through the next intersection.
She began to think the unthinkable.
She drove two more blocks, then turned on to her street and slammed on the brakes.
There was a line of fire engines down the block and a traffic control officer was already waving traffic toward a side street.
Emma pulled in front of a driveway and double parked, then jumped out of the car, silently praying that she was wrong, that it was the building next to hers, but as she came around the first fire engine, she saw the flames shooting out of a third story apartment.
"Oh, my God!" She turned to Max. "My apartment is on fire."
Chapter Nineteen
Max was stunned. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He put his arm around Emma's shoulders, and felt tremors of shock running through her. She was used to dealing with fire. That was her job. But this—this was personal. He felt that with every fiber of his being. It was not a coincidence that it was Emma's apartment that was on fire. Someone had known she'd rented it. Someone had wanted to make a point to her.
Anger tore through him. He looked around the gathering crowd, wondering if the perpetrator was out there somewhere, hiding in the shadows, watching them even now.
Emma drew in a breath and lifted her chin. He gazed down at her and saw the light of battle in her eyes. Her momentary paralysis was over. She was ready to fight.
"Let's go," she said, striding forward.
They flashed their badges to get to the center of the action where they found Emma's brother, Burke, directing the crews on site.
He glanced at Emma, a tense expression in his eyes. "I was just about to call you. How did you know?"
"I was coming to meet Aiden. That's my new apartment, Burke."
Surprise widened his gaze. "No way."
"I picked up the keys yesterday. If you didn't know that, why were you calling me?" she asked in confusion.
"Because it's definitely arson, and there was a spray-painted message on the front door that might refer to you. Hamilton took a photo of it."
"What did it say?"
"It said—You're never going to catch me, bitch. I'm better than you."
She blew out a ragged breath. "Okay then. He didn't choose this building by accident, but by design." Emma glanced back at Max. "He's taunting me. He left me a calling card."
"Let's hope he left some other clues, too," he said grimly, knowing that the arsonist had probably been tailing Emma all week. It infuriated him to know that they'd been watched the last few days, and he hadn't noticed a damn thing. What the hell kind of detective was he?
"I need to get inside," Emma said.
"Hold on," Burke said. "You're not going in until this is under control."
"The second it is, you tell me," she ordered her brother. "I am going to catch this son of a bitch if it's the last thing I do."
"Well, I don't want it to be the last thing you do," Burke retorted. "So get a hold of yourself."
"Don't talk to me like that. I'm not here as your little sister. I'm a fire investigator, and this is what I do."
Burke shook his head and turned his attention to the radio. He moved a few steps away from them as he relayed information to the men on the roof.
"How dare he tell me to calm down?" Emma grumbled. "This is my case. This is my fire."
Max let her rant. He knew her anger was also a cover for her pain. The arsonist had gone after Emma's home, after the place that already meant something to her, if only in a symbolic way. She had been planning to start over here, on her own, independent, free…
His thoughts turned to her ex-boyfriend, Jon. The last thing Jon wanted was for Emma to start over. Was it possible they'd been on the wrong track? That the fires had nothing to do with the schools or Sister Margaret or the Morettis?"
"Damn," he muttered.
Emma shot him a sharp look. "What?"
"All the fires are connected to you—your elementary school, your high school, the bar where you helped your father celebrate his promotion, and this apartment. It's you, Emma. You're the common denominator. I said it before, and I let you talk me out of it. But it's you."
Her face turned pale. "I could have become the target after I started working the cases. It's an arsonist against an arson investigator."
She had a point, but his gut told him she was making it too simple.
"I have to get my gear," she said, striding back to the car. "I want to capture what evidence I can before it goes up in flames."
He followed her down the block, feeling a need to stay close to her. She wouldn't appreciate it, but he didn't care.
Emma didn't say anything to him as she grabbed her gear out of the trunk of her car. While she was putting on the thick coveralls, he took another look around the block. There were a lot of shadowy doorways where someone could hide, and a large crowd was gathering at the end of each block.
"You need to be careful, Emma," he said, unable to hold back the warning, even though he knew it wasn't in Emma's DNA to be cautious.
"I know what I'm doing, Max. I have to figure out who this guy is before he does any more damage."
"And before he hurts you."
She met his gaze. "I don't thi
nk this is about hurting me. He loves to watch things burn. His message wasn't a threat. It was a promise to keep going. He was taunting me. He doesn't think I'm good enough to catch him."
Her words struck a nerve. "He doesn't think you're good enough," he echoed. "You might have just come up with a motive."
"Someone who doesn't like me in the job," she said, finishing his thought. "That could be a lot of people."
"Not as big of a pool as we had before."
"Maybe it is another firefighter," she said.
"Or maybe it's your ex-boyfriend. Didn’t Jon blame your job for your break-up?"
She frowned. "This doesn't feel like Jon's kind of thing. He doesn't get his hands dirty."
"Maybe he had someone else do his dirty work."
As he finished speaking, Aiden came down the street, his features sharp and worried. "Are you all right, Emma? Burke said the fire was set in your apartment."
"I'm fine. I'll have to find somewhere else to live, but that's not my main concern at the moment." She turned to Max. "I need to get inside and see that message for myself. I'll talk to you both later."
As Emma left, Aiden said, "What message?"
"The arsonist spray-painted a message on Emma's door. You're never going to catch me, bitch. I'm better than you."
"He was talking about Emma?"
"Yeah, I'd say so. What do you know about her ex-boyfriend?"
Aiden's gaze narrowed. "Jon? He talks a lot, usually about himself. I always thought Emma could do better, but she wasn't interested in my opinion."
"I want to talk to Jon, but I don't have a car here. I came with Emma. Any chance you could give me a ride back to my office?"
"Why don't I give you a ride to Jon's office?" Aiden suggested. "I'd like to have a little talk with him myself. In fact, I've been meaning to do that all week. I heard he's been texting her non-stop."
"He was up until a few days ago."
"Maybe he decided to leave his text in spray-paint, where she couldn't ignore it," Aiden said.
"You read my mind."
"I'm parked around the corner," Aiden said as they started walking. "You do know that Emma will not like us talking to Jon without her."
"I know," he said. "But this is my case, too. She's not calling all the shots."
* * *
Jon Wickmore had an office on the thirty-second floor of a skyscraper in downtown San Francisco. The front door of the office suite read Wickmore Investments.
"The father," Aiden said, answering Max's unspoken question. "He started the company twenty-five years ago. Jon came in a couple of years back. They're venture capitalists, and they work with big money."
"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked.
"We'd like to see Jon Wickmore," Max said, showing his badge. "Where's his office?"
She stiffened. "May I tell him you're coming?"
"I'd rather surprise him."
"His office is down the hall, second door on the right."
Max strode briskly down the hallway. Adrenaline and anger were running rampant and he knew he should probably take a breath before he opened Jon's door and put a fist through his face. He'd learned a long time ago not to let his emotions into an investigation, but this one was different, this one was about Emma. He would protect her with everything that he had.
The thought almost stopped him in his tracks. He suddenly realized he'd just echoed Spencer's words. If he didn't want to have the same result, he needed to get a grip.
Taking a deep breath, he rapped sharply on the door, then opened it.
Jon looked up in surprise. That surprise turned to wariness when he recognized both Max and Aiden. He stood up. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong? Has something happened to Emma?"
"Why don't you tell us?" Max said, walking up to the desk.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen Emma since we last spoke outside that deli she likes so much. You were there."
"I was there, and I remember how desperate you were to get her back. Have you been here in your office all day?"
"Yes."
"You didn't go out for lunch?"
"I did. I was gone for about an hour. Look, I don't know what's happened, but I would never hurt Emma." Jon turned to Aiden. "You know I love your sister."
"I know you cheated on her," Aiden replied, a harsh note in his voice. "I should kick your ass for that."
"That was a mistake. I've apologized to her."
"And that's supposed to make it all right?"
"What do you want from me?" Jon asked Max, obviously coming to the conclusion that he was going to get no help from Aiden.
"Where did you go for lunch?"
"A café down the street."
"Can anyone vouch for you?"
"I met a client, Randy Hooper. We talked business for an hour, and then I came back here."
"And you didn't stop by Emma's apartment on the way here?" Max challenged.
"Her apartment?" Jon echoed. "She lives with her parents. Tell him, Aiden."
"She was moving out," Aiden said. "She was trying to get life back together after you blew it apart."
"I didn't know about an apartment. Is she all right?"
Jon was either a very good actor, or he had no idea what Max was talking about.
"Why have you been sending her harassing texts?" Aiden asked.
"They weren't harassing emails. I just wanted her to give me another chance. Look, there are two sides to every story, and you've only heard one."
"Then tell us yours," Max ordered. "And it better be good, or you're coming down to the station with me to answer questions in a more formal setting."
Alarm flared in Jon's eyes. "I haven’t done anything wrong."
"Except desperately trying to get your ex-girlfriend back," Max said. "How far were you willing to go to get her attention?"
"It's not exactly as it seems," Jon said. He paused for a moment and then said. "I'm in the initial stages of putting together a political campaign. Next year I'm going to be running for a supervisor position. In making my plans, I've had many meetings with political strategists, and they all pointed out that Emma was a valuable asset. She's well-connected, and the unions love the Callaways."
"So you wanted to get her back so she could be your political trophy? Do you know Emma at all?" Aiden asked in bewilderment. "The last thing my sister would be is anyone's trophy."
"I do care about Emma," Jon said. "She knows that. And she's always understood my ambitions."
"But you never understood hers, did you?" Max challenged.
Jon didn't answer the question. Instead, he said, "Is she all right?"
"Yeah, she's fine," Max said. "Better off without you. If you bother her again, you're going to be sorry."
"You're threatening me? I could have your badge. Do you know how many connections I have in this city?"
"Just stating a fact," he said evenly.
"He might not be threatening you, but I am," Aiden put in. "You call her one more time, and I will kick your ass."
"Are we done?" Jon asked, ice in his voice.
"Yeah, we're done," Max said.
"Can you believe that piece of shit?" Aiden fumed as they walked to the elevator. "What did Emma ever see in that guy?"
"I have no idea," he said. "She is way out of his league."
"If she knew he was trying to use her for political gain, she'd go nuts." Aiden paused. "Are you going to tell her?"
"I don't know."
"She deserves to know."
"It will hurt her."
"Maybe it will free her to move on," Aiden said. "So do you think he set the fire?"
Max really wanted to say yes, but he couldn't. "No, I don't. Which means we're back to square one."
"What can I do to help?"
"I wish I knew," he replied. But with this new fire, they would have to start over, refocus the investigation. He just hoped that the arsonist had gotten careless in his eagerness to taun
t Emma. They could really use a new clue.
* * *
When Max returned to the scene of the fire, the blaze was out, and Burke allowed him to go inside. The sickening stench of smoke hit him the second he walked into the building and got thicker as he walked up to the third floor. He paused in front of her front door. It had been ripped off its hinges and was propped up on the wall. The painted message looked even more ominous with the red paint dripping down the door, giving the illusion of blood. Max had a feeling the color choice had been deliberate.
As he read the words, he felt angry again and more than a little worried. Emma might not think she was in danger, but he wasn't so sure.
He stepped into the apartment and saw destruction everywhere he looked. The windows were broken, and there was shattered glass on the hardwood floors that had buckled under the heat and the water. The walls were blackened and streaked with ashes. There were several large holes in the roof, and through one of them he could see the first few stars of the night, but even those bright orbs didn't lessen the heavy depressive quality of the scene.
"I'm going to be here awhile," Emma said, coming over to him.
He could see a forensic tech in the bedroom collecting ashes. "I know. I'll wait for you."
"You don't have to do that."
He looked into her eyes and saw determination but also sadness. She was keeping it together, but there were painful emotions brewing inside. "Are you okay?" He knew she hated the question, but he couldn't help asking it.
"It's different when it's your place," she admitted. "I never realized until now how personal an arson fire can feel. I didn't own this place, but I felt like it was mine. It would have been worse if I'd already moved in. I guess I should be grateful he didn't wait that long to try to get my attention." She gave him a shaky smile.
He smiled back at her. "You do try to find the bright side of things."
"It's not easy tonight."
"You'll get through it."
"I will," she agreed. "I'll do my job, and you'll do yours, and we'll catch the bastard."
"I'll wait for you outside."
"You really should just go home, Max."
"I'm not leaving until you do. And you're coming home with me," he said decisively.
So This Is Love Page 20