“So why did you drag me out at this hour of the morning? What kind of scheme are you hatching?” he asked.
Olivia flattened her hands on the sticky Formica tabletop and leaned toward Reyn. “Well, I figured if we want answers about a fire that happened twenty years ago, the best place to start is with the people who would have been there, the men who’d have been at the scene.”
She hitched her head toward the table across the diner where her stepfather had joined two other men for breakfast. “Those men, and a couple others who aren’t here yet, are all members of the Clairmont Volunteer Fire Department. Most of them have been volunteer firemen since before I was born. They would have been the men who came to your house when it burned.”
Reyn furrowed his brow, shot a glance to Hank’s table, and then shifted a hard gaze back at her. “Bad idea. I don’t want anyone else knowing what we’re doing.”
“Why?”
He huffed impatiently. “For starters, it’d raise questions, start people talking. And if someone else is involved, do you really want them tipped off that we’re looking into the fire again? There are other ways of getting information. Microfilm of old newspapers at the library. Official records at the parish courthouse and coroner’s office.” He paused when Mabel brought her coffee and left the pot on the table. “Do me a favor. If we have to do this at all, let’s keep it quiet, okay?”
“But eyewitnesses, the people who were actually there, would have a unique perspective. They can give us details you just can’t get from some old document.” She glanced at the table of firemen then back at Reyn. “The guy I came in with is my stepfather, Hank. Sitting next to Hank, the one with the glasses, that’s Lou Farris. He’s the pharmacist at the store where I work. He’s got a mind like a steel trap. He can tell you everything about anything that’s happened in this town in the last thirty years, and what the weather was like the day it happened. I know he’ll be able to give us something to go on. Now come on, or I’ll go alone.”
She stood and took Reyn’s hand, urging him to follow.
He grumbled something under his breath about her blowing his low profile, and she headed for the table of volunteer firemen.
“Morning, Olivia. What brings you out so early on a Monday morning?” Lou sent her a friendly smile and adjusted his glasses as he glanced at Reyn. “Who’s your friend?”
She introduced Reyn to Lou, Hank and the third man at the table, Charlie Smith, the town barber. Charlie stood and shook Reyn’s hand then offered Olivia his seat.
“No, I’m fine, thanks. We just have a few questions to ask about a fire that happened about twenty years ago. It was Reyn’s house, and his mother died in the fire and—”
“Olivia, what’s going on? What’re you up to?” Hank interrupted.
“Just trying to get some information straight about the Erikson’s house fire. I knew you men were a good place to start.”
“That fire was a long time ago, Liv.” Hank cast a wary glance to her hand still in Reyn’s.
Her hand still in Reyn’s. He hadn’t pulled away. A sweet sensation flowed through her veins, and she savored the feel of his warm fingers wrapped around hers.
“You might not get far,” Hank said. “People tend to forget things—”
“I remember that fire,” Lou said, stabbing a bite of ham and shaking his head. “Terrible fire. Destroyed the place completely. By the time we arrived, the house was fully involved, and we had no choice but to fight it defensively.”
Good ol’ Lou. She knew he would remember.
“You fought it defensively…meaning from outside the house. Right?” she asked for confirmation. She’d heard Hank use the term but wanted to make sure she had her facts straight.
“Exactly,” Lou said and nodded.
“I knew that much already and told you so yesterday,” Reyn murmured close to her ear, his breath a warm tickle against her skin. She shushed him, and he frowned.
“What else were you looking for?” Lou asked.
“Anything you can tell me. We—”
“What the hell is he doing here?”
Olivia and Reyn turned in unison in response to the hostile male voice. Reyn muttered a scorching curse, jerked his hand away and ran his palm across his cheek. Olivia’s stomach reeled when she met the two grim stares behind her.
The last two members of the Monday Morning Breakfast Group had arrived. George Russell and Vance Horton.
Chapter Three
Every muscle in Reyn’s body tensed at the sight of his old nemeses. He’d always believed Principal Horton had it in for him. He’d swear the man had watched him like a hawk, just waiting for him to slip up so he could slam another punishment down Reyn’s throat. The circumstances didn’t matter. If Reyn was involved in an infraction at school, no matter who else was involved, Reyn bore the burden of blame.
And George Russell had made it clear yesterday he still bore a grudge for the loss of his barn. Not that Reyn could blame him. His carelessness had hurt the farmer’s livelihood.
As the men crossed the diner toward them, Horton’s flinty eyes narrowed on him with the same suspicion they’d held when Reyn was ten. “Reyn Erikson. I knew this town hadn’t seen the last of you.”
Reyn met the man’s gaze evenly, and he offered his hand. “How are you, Mr. Horton? It’s been a long time.”
“Not long enough.” The man sat, ignoring Reyn’s proffered hand.
Tamping down the flash of fury at the man’s cold dismissal, Reyn squared his shoulders and tried to ignore the look of gall on Olivia’s face. Better she saw now the Reyn Erikson other people saw, the reputation he had earned.
George Russell crossed his arms over his thick chest and propped a hip on the back of the booth bench. “Did I hear you mention something you were looking for?”
Olivia raised her chin. “Yes. Information.”
“What kinda information?” Russell’s thick country drawl grated on Reyn’s raw nerves.
“About a fire you would have responded to several years ago.” Olivia divided her gaze between the two new arrivals.
Reyn watched Russell and Horton exchange glances.
“Guess we don’t have to ask which one, now do we?” Horton pinned a hard look on Reyn. “The investigation into the fire at your house has been closed for years. A simple case of carelessness. A candle left burning too close to the curtains, and—” He waved his hand, letting the rest of what happened go unspoken, as if the death of Reyn’s mother and the loss of his home were too mundane to mention.
Anger and resentment twisted inside Reyn. His mother had been treated poorly by the town when she was alive, but he’d be damned if he’d let this man or anyone else dismiss her life, her death as irrelevant.
“And,” he said tightly, “my mother died in that fire. She was only twenty-eight.”
“What’s your point?” Russell asked.
Reyn bristled, balling his fists, and Olivia put a hand on his arm. When he glanced at her, he saw fire burning in her gold eyes as she stared at Russell. She’d had the same intensity about her when she’d argued the need to look into his mom’s death, when she’d challenged him on his reasons for staying away from Clairmont.
“The point is,” Olivia said, “an innocent woman, a mother, a daughter, someone loved and cherished died. Her life was worth something, and we owe it to her and her family to find out why.” She turned to Horton as she continued. “And we’re not convinced we do know everything there is to know about how the fire started. My father was still investigating it when he died. I found some of his old files the other day, and he had questions about the coroner’s findings, the possibility of arson. We intend to pick up where my dad left off.”
“Isn’t that a job for the sheriff, Olivia?” Hank asked.
“I’m looking for something concrete enough to take to the sheriff. That’s why I need your help. Anything you remember that could shed new light on things.” When no one said anything, she looked at the man
sitting by her stepfather. “Lou?”
The pharmacist shrugged and glanced at the other men. To Reyn, he seemed suddenly nervous. “Sorry, Olivia. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”
“You’re wasting your time. It was an obvious case of negligence, a candle that got out of control.” Horton poked a finger toward Olivia. “End of discussion.”
Reyn knocked the man’s hand away from Olivia and placed himself between her and the principal. “If that’s all there is to it, then you shouldn’t mind if we took a look at the coroner’s report or the fire marshal’s write up of the fire.”
He hadn’t wanted to dig up the past, but the resistance from these men warned him something wasn’t right. Combined with the suspicions Olivia’s father had outlined in his notes, Reyn began to believe there could be a basis for re-opening the case.
Charlie Smith put a hand on Horton’s shoulder. “Take it easy, Vance. If the kids want to waste their time reading some dusty old reports, let ’em.” He turned to Olivia. “But like we’ve said, I can’t see where you’ll learn anything we haven’t told you already.”
“And coroner reports are hardly proper reading material for a respectable lady.” Russell’s tone oozed sarcasm. “But then my boy Billy tells me you ain’t respectable.”
Pain flashed in Olivia’s eyes, and Reyn remembered her reaction to a similar comment from Russell yesterday. He itched to wipe the smug, condescending look from the man’s face. But pummeling a man old enough to be his father was exactly the kind of trouble the town expected from him, the kind of ruckus that would haunt Gram even after he left town. For Gram’s sake, he swallowed the knot of fury and shook the tension from his hands.
“You two head on outta here now.” Hank rose to his feet and gave his stepdaughter a warning look. “No need to stir up problems.”
“It’s the boy, Hank.” Horton shifted his gaze to Reyn and shook his head. “Trouble is his middle name. Always was.”
“Frankly, that fire was the best thing to happen in this town for years,” Smith said with righteous condemnation in his tone. “We got rid of the town slut, and then her trouble-making son got shipped off to another state.”
Reyn had heard enough. He launched himself at the barber, planting his hands in the man’s chest with a shove. “Shut your mouth. Don’t talk about my mother like that, you sonofa—”
Hank grabbed Reyn’s arm and pulled him back. “Easy, son.”
Smith’s expression was smug. “I rest my case. Fact is, I always wondered if our resident arsonist didn’t have something to do with startin’ that fire. You want some answers, boy, maybe you should start by lookin’ in the mirror.”
Reyn seethed, his body tightly strung and ready to snap. He’d expected Clairmont to open old wounds, had known he had enemies here, had expected the insults and innuendo. But that didn’t make it any easier to hear, any less painful to endure.
“There a problem over there, gentlemen?” Mabel called from the counter. “Do I need to call Sheriff Anders?”
Hank raised a hand. “Everything’s fine. Reyn and Olivia were just leaving.”
Olivia’s stepfather shot her a look that said she should suit his words to action. “Please, Liv.”
She huffed and shook her head. “All right. We’re going.” She started to leave then turned back. “Will you be home in time for dinner tonight, Hank? I’m making spaghetti.”
“I’ll be there. Wouldn’t think of missing one of your home-cooked meals.” He winked at her and gave her arm a loving squeeze.
“Good, see you then.” Olivia gave her stepfather a chaste hug, and then tossing her mane of red hair over her shoulder, she directed a pointed gaze on the men. “Don’t think this subject is closed. My father had questions about what happened, and I, for one, intend to find answers. You men can stonewall all you want, but I will find out what I want to know.”
She spun on her heel and marched back over to their table with her chin high and her shoulders back. Reyn watched her walk away, proud of the way she’d held her own with the contemptuous and uncooperative men. He experienced another irritating punch of lust as he drank in her long legs and swaying hips.
Reyn averted his gaze from Olivia’s tempting backside and passed a hard look over each of the men before he too walked away. The grim faces left no doubt what he and Olivia would be up against if they pursued their investigation.
The challenge that stared back at him in the eyes of his opponents was unmistakable. His intentions of lying low and avoiding trouble while in town shattered at his feet. He wouldn’t, couldn’t back down from a challenge.
If these men wanted a fight, he’d give them one.
“Looks like we have a fight on our hands,” Olivia said, sliding into their booth.
“Looks like.” Reyn rolled the tension from his shoulders and glanced to the back of the diner. He needed a moment to decompress before he discussed the reaction of the volunteer firemen with Olivia. He jerked his head toward the men’s room as he left her at the table. “I’ll be right back.”
In the bathroom, he stepped over to the sink to splash cold water on his face. When he glanced into the cracked mirror in front of him, graffiti on the wall by the sink caught his eye, and he read the scribbled words.
It was about Olivia, a crude report on her ability to perform a sexual favor, illegal in some states.
Reyn gritted his teeth and stormed out of the bathroom, disgust burning in his gut. He stalked past their table and to the galley area where the waitress was refilling her coffee pot.
“Would you give the manager a message for me?” he asked tightly. “The men’s bathroom could use a new coat of paint.” He didn’t try to hide the fury in his tone.
Their waitress shook her head. “We just painted the whole diner last summer.”
Reyn stepped closer and nailed a hard look on the woman. “The men’s room needs to be painted again.”
She gave him a patronizing look. “Reyn, is it? I’m not sure I understand what your…”
“There’s graffiti on the wall.” Reyn braced his arms on the counter.
The waitress frowned and sighed. “If we repainted every time some kid scribbled on the wall, we wouldn’t have money for—”
Reyn cursed loudly and dug in his pocket. He slapped a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. “There. That should cover a gallon of paint and a brush. Now have someone paint the damn bathroom.”
“Reyn?”
Olivia put one hand on his back and tugged on his arm with the other. “Come sit down. Whatever’s wrong, I’m sure they’ll take of it. Calm down.”
He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I shouldn’t have lost my cool like that.”
Shoving away from the counter, he shrugged off Olivia’s hand and headed for the door.
As he stalked to the passenger’s side of his truck, Reyn wore a hard, determined expression. Olivia scurried to catch up with him.
“What was that about?” Olivia studied the tense lines bracketing the angry slash of Reyn’s mouth. The muscle in his jaw was jumping again, and his eyes were dark and stormy.
“You heard it all.” He crossed his muscled arms over his chest and huffed, clearly still fighting to calm his temper.
“This…graffiti. What did it say?”
“Drop it.”
“It was about me, wasn’t it?”
He jerked his head around to look at her. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes answered her question. A rock settled in her belly, but she gave him the best smile she could. “Defending my honor could be a full-time job in this town. I’m a popular target thanks to Billy Russell and his friends. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not worth getting riled up about.”
He dragged a hand through his hair and blew a slow breath through pursed lips. He didn’t respond at first. When he did, his gaze drifted away, focused on something in the distance.
“I spent a lot of time in the principal’s offic
e as a kid. For fighting mostly, though there was other stuff too.” He flicked a quick glance to her. “Kids used to talk about my mom…repeat things they’d heard at home.” A deep furrow pocked his forehead. “Truth is, I don’t know who my father is. I guess…I guess it’s possible she earned her reputation. But no kid wants to hear his mother called a slut…or worse.”
“Of course not.”
She laid a comforting hand on his arm, but he pulled away and braced his arms against the truck’s hood. She searched for something else to say but could tell he didn’t want placating words. So she remained silent, gave him time to deal with his memories.
“Whatever else she was—or wasn’t—she was a good mom.”
Olivia blinked back tears. She knew all about missing lost parents.
Finally, he opened the truck door and placed a hand under her elbow to help her up to the high seat. His warm touch and gentlemanly gesture soothed the rough edges of her frayed composure.
Billy tells me you ain’t respectable. George Russell’s taunt slithered through her mind, and she shivered. Heaven only knew what lies Billy had fed his father about her that had turned the man so vehemently against her. At least Billy’s mother, Hannah, treated her with a measure of civility.
Reyn’s fingers tightened around her arm. “You all right? You’re shaking.”
She turned to him with a quick smile. “Yeah. Too much caffeine, I guess.”
He held her gaze, his stormy eyes searching hers, and she knew he didn’t buy her lie.
If she’d done anything to earn the bad reputation she had, it would be different. She shouldn’t care what the bitter man thought of her, but his scathing taunts still hurt. Billy had been worse, spreading tales about a kinky sex life they hadn’t had. Sighing, she pushed thoughts of George Russell and his son’s vindictiveness aside. She’d moved on, hadn’t she? And she knew better than to jump in without looking next time, right? Right.
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