by D. D. Ayres
“That’s not fair, Ms. Glover.” It seemed even Durvan knew when to back off. Luckily, he remembered she’d retained her maiden name. “I just need to hear from Noah what he remembers of last night’s events. Then I’ll get out and let you two have a proper visit.”
“It’s okay, sis.” Noah offered her the best smile he could muster despite the killer demon operating a pile driver through his skull.
Sandra frowned. “You should have a lawyer present.” She turned to Merle. “Since I am one, I’m staying.” She walked over and took his chair.
The experienced investigator blew out a breath. Unflappable before a serial arsonist, he’d almost lost his cool with the best-looking woman he knew. “Fine. Only don’t interrupt.”
Sandra sat and crossed her arms, one boot toe tapping impatiently.
Durvan turned back to Noah, a look of exasperation on his face. “You were telling me what happened.”
“Went out for a drink with some of the firefighters from station house number two.”
“You drink a lot?”
“I’m on duty today. Ordered Dr Pepper. You can check.”
Durvan’s gaze flicked to his tablet and back. “Various witnesses say you were unsteady on your feet by the time you left the bar.”
“I remember feeling a bit out of it. Thought maybe I was coming down with something. Flu’s going round. But then…”
“Yeah?”
Noah locked gazes with him. “I got nothing until the woman pulling me out of the fire.”
“Had you two been out drinking?”
Noah’s mouth tightened at the repeated question. “Ask her. She’ll tell you she never met me before the fire.”
Sandra’s chair squeaked. “What caught on fire, Merle?”
Durvan’s gaze remained on Noah. “Why don’t you tell your sister what happened before I have to? It’ll be easier that way.”
Sandra was up out of her chair. “You can stop the bull, Merle. Noah’s told you what he remembers. You need to tell my brother what you know.”
“If you’ll take a seat, ma’am.” This time Texas-flint-met-wild-cat-feistiness. After a moment, the wild cat flicked her blonde mane and resumed her chair.
Durvan turned again to Noah. “I’m giving it to you straight, Glover. We’ve got evidence that ties you to a fire that was deliberately set.”
He held up a hand to stop Sandra’s interruption. “Hear me out. Two gasoline-soaked mattresses were propped against a wall. The fire was set to burn quickly. The only reason you’re alive is because the woman pulled you out. We’ve confirmed she’s the same person who’d made a call to 911 about an unconscious man. She claims the fire was triggered after her call. Sure you didn’t ask her to do you one last favor?”
Noah was too angry to be cautious. “Right. I’d ask a total stranger to set me on fire? Makes no fucking sense.”
Durvan gave up the slightest smile, an indication he’d gotten to Noah. “I’m trying to understand, Glover. But it’s suspicious as hell that you can’t remember anything.”
Noah rubbed a hand down his face. “It’s just gone. Like those hours never happened.”
“You trying to tell me you were drugged?”
Sandra was on her feet again. “Wait. What?”
Durvan’s expression sobered. “Maybe someone put something in your drink. Is that it, Glover?”
Noah stared at him. “You’ve got proof of something.”
Durvan shrugged. “They had to pump your stomach last night, in case you’d taken pills. You’d downed enough booze to impress a frat house. You tested positive for drugs, too.”
Noah slung his head left and right, each move sending a wrecking ball against his skull. “Hell. Maybe I was roofied by the bastard who left me to fry.”
Durvan leaned in close over the bed rail, as if in a friendly gesture. The expression on his face was anything but. “I’ve done what I could to keep you off the psych ward. Suicide usually earns a person a trip to La La Land. But if you start some paranoid sh—bull”—he glanced at Sandra—“about being drugged by persons unknown, you’re going to have a problem with more than me.”
Noah stared right back, ignoring itchy eyes that streamed. “You said they pumped drugs out of me. Can’t they do a blood test or something for roofies from what they took from me last night?”
“Maybe. But even if it turns out positive, it could put you in a worse position.”
“How’s that possible?” Sandra’s voice intervened.
Durvan didn’t even acknowledge her. His full attention was on Noah. “You know as well as I do, suicide by fire is nearly impossible. Once the higher functioning goes, even the most determined crazy can’t take the heat. You ever seen a burning corpse crawl out of a house on fire? I have. We got called to a blaze a few years back, started after a suicide hung himself. Fire burned through the hanging rope. He tried to escape. Made it halfway over the threshold on fire before he expired. Passed out on roofies would only show you had a well-planned-out suicide attempt.”
Noah shuddered internally at the images Durvan conjured, but he held his interrogator’s gaze. “I’m innocent.”
“Then that only leaves one question, Noah. Who wants you dead?”
Noah’s face went blank. “I don’t know.”
Durvan nodded once then reared back. “Just so we’re straight, I look after my arson people. So far, nothing’s been leaked to the media about your circumstances. The official line is there’s an investigation underway of a fire in which one of our people received minor injuries. But, as the saying goes, I’m not your biggest problem. If you become a liability or public relations problem the department heads won’t hesitate to throw you to the wolves.
Durvan stood up. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a dog in this fight. You. I’ll protect you as long as I can. But if it turns out you fucked up and pulled a lame-ass stunt last night, I’m going to arrest your sorry ass personally in front of as many cameras as I can gather. No one shits on my unit.”
When Durvan had closed the door behind him, Sandra came forward and patted Noah on the shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie. He believes you.”
“No, he doesn’t. I wouldn’t believe another man in the same circumstances.” He smiled at her. “You better call the folks before this gets out. Tell them I’m fine but not to talk to anybody until they hear from me personally.”
“I’ll do that. I just wanted to make certain first that you were okay.” She patted his cheek affectionately. “Now, what’s this about someone trying to burn you up?”
Noah wished his sister hadn’t heard that part. “I have no idea that’s even true. Maybe I was out and came across something suspicious. When I stopped to investigate, the perp got the drop on me.”
“Bull turkey.” Sandra had perched a fist on each hip. “Someone’s tried to off my little brother. I need to know all the details.”
“Look. I’ve got nothing more to say and won’t until I can get out of here and do some investigating on my own.”
She stared at him, Glover to Glover, and knew that the blood that ran through both their veins made him just as stubborn as her. She wouldn’t get anything more out of him now.
She dropped her fists and crossed her arms. “You’ll need my help if you really think Durvan doesn’t believe you.”
“If you want to help, tell me who called you about me.”
“He didn’t give his name. Just that there’d been a fire and you were in the hospital.” Sandra frowned. “I was too rattled to ask who it was.”
The answer was unsettling, but he didn’t want to rile his sister any more than she already was. “Like I said, I need to investigate. Would you check at the desk and see when I can get out of here? Hospitals make me sick.”
She smiled. “Sure thing. Sit tight.”
Noah watched her go in relief. They had a good relationship, even if ten years separated their ages. His sister had never been especially touchy-feely, yet she’d been there for him when
he needed it during his very messy divorce. But this wasn’t her fight.
Noah closed his eyes, willing his brain to remember something. Anything.
A pair of dark eyes, widened by fear and worry, came into focus. Who was she? Durvan hadn’t given him her name, but he had ways of finding out. She would have given a statement at the scene. He knew who to ask to get it.
He reached automatically into his breast pocket for his cell phone. It wasn’t there, or on the bedside table, or in the drawer. That’s when he remembered Durvan showing him a text message he’d supposedly sent. Had Durvan confiscated his phone? He knew Durvan well enough to know he’d been holding back on what information he did have.
Or was his phone still in the hands of the man who’d tried to burn him alive?
Anger surged through him, setting his heart to pumping heavy strokes. Someone had gotten the drop on him and almost succeeded in killing him. Who hated him that much?
Burning was one of the more terrible ways to die. He had scars from burns gotten during his years fighting fires. The pain was memorable. This was personal. Someone wanted him to suffer. And then die.
He shoved the creeping sense of vulnerability away. Wouldn’t help. He was alive. A major plus. What else?
He opened his eyes and, without really seeing, focused on the chart on the wall that named his nurse and doctor. He was a detective. His memory wasn’t a total wipe. What did he know for certain?
He hadn’t been drinking.
Yet Durvan said emergency had pumped a stomach full of alcohol and other stuff out of him.
Therefore, he’d been drugged and force-fed alcohol. Perhaps together. Then he’d been left to die with his dog
Harley!
CHAPTER THREE
It wasn’t in the papers. Or on the local news channels. He’d bought the paper, which he rarely did, and recorded all the local channels at the same time to make certain he didn’t miss it. The fire hadn’t made the paper at all. It had gotten fourth lead, after the weather report, on only two channels. No mention of a body. No mention of anything of importance but the loss, due to water damage, of a women’s boutique scheduled to open soon. That couldn’t be right.
Unless he’d fucked up.
No, he’d seen the fire catch from a block away before self-preservation told him to leave the vicinity. That fire should have taken all but the evidence he’d deliberately left behind. He knew how to cover his tracks. He was an expert at what arson investigators looked for. He’d also had lots of practice. He’d left a trail pointing to the victim as perpetrator that a blind man could follow. Something had gone wrong.
No way to ask. Not yet, anyway. For the rest of Fort Worth, it was just another ordinary day.
Someone would have to pay for that.
CHAPTER FOUR
“What’s the matter, fella?”
Carly looked from the dish full of dog food into the shining dark amber eyes of the shepherd standing nearby. As she did so, his ears pricked forward and his long thick tail began to swish. “You’re a handsome devil. Why won’t you eat? Did you get too much smoke?”
As if he understood her he barked twice, the light happy sounds of a healthy animal. He was a beauty with tall ears that were velvet soft inside, and a strong nonslanting back with a small black saddle on his otherwise golden body. A black streak down his tail finished off the details. That, and a tendency to smile with his tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth.
She’d gotten up with the sun to make phone calls cancelling the activities planned for Flawless’s grand opening scheduled for next week. Then she’d done a dog food run, grabbing several kinds from the shelves because she wasn’t certain what her canine guest would eat. Surely she would hit on a favorite. But, not so much.
“I wish I could understand you. You don’t seem to like dry or wet food.” She’d heaped a serving of each kind into the bowl. He’d drained the water bowl twice, but the food remained untouched.
Her canine guest sniffed politely at each kind but then looked up at her, his head canted to one side, as if expecting something more.
“Have you tried making him work for it?”
Carly looked up to find her cousin Jarius Wiley standing in her aunt’s kitchen doorway. He was still in his police uniform of navy blue shirt and pants with black tactical boots. His black felt cowboy hat sat low over his eyes, a position at once jaunty and intimidating. That hat also drew attention to his green eyes set in a medium brown face. But that wasn’t the only reason why women looked at Jarius Wiley with open-mouth admiration. Jarius was gorgeous, from his close-cropped hair and chiseled features to the ripped physique he kept toned by a daily workout at the gym—which was a necessity, since this thirty-three-year-old man ate like a teenager with a tapeworm. No food was safe around him.
“Hey, Jarius. What are you doing here?”
“I’m just off duty. Moms likes to feed me when I’ve worked the night shift.” He came into the kitchen, shedding his tactical equipment, which he piled safely on top of the refrigerator. “What are you doing here?”
“Borrowing Aunt Fredda’s yard. My loft doesn’t allow pets. I need a place to keep this dog while I go check out my store. I’m expecting an insurance adjuster later this morning.”
Jarius frowned. “Yeah. I heard about the fire. Condolences, cousin.” He gave her a big hug that squashed her against his shirtfront. “I would have come by last night but we were working a wreck in the Mixmaster. Snarled two major interstates for hours. State troopers worked the incident. FWPD had the pleasure of rerouting traffic through miles of gridlocked neighborhoods.”
“It’s okay. The fire department boarded things up after I was taken to the emergency room.”
Jarius’s brows flew up his forehead. “Moms didn’t say nothing about an emergency room. Why were you in the emergency room?”
“Because I was sort of there when the fire started.” She glanced at the dog, not wanting to tell the whole truth about finding the unconscious man. “But I’m fine. The trip was only a precaution. I was released almost immediately. I didn’t tell Aunt Fredda that part. Just took a taxi here.”
Jarius glanced at the dog sitting politely by her side. “This the animal you saved from the fire?”
“How did you know?” Damn, he’d faked her out.
He pointed to his badge.
“Oh right.”
“You know Moms. She called me the second she hung up talking to you. That should have been you, cuz. You’re in trouble, you call me. I’m the po-lice.”
Carly sighed. After she told her aunt, she’d had to caution her not to tell anyone. If she hadn’t stopped her, her aunt would have immediately phoned about half of Fort Worth with news of her niece’s adventure the night before.
Jarius bent down and held out the back of his hand toward the shepherd. “Hey there, big fella. How’re you doing?”
The dog sniffed then licked Jarius’s hand. “Yeah. That’s right. We’re friendly.” He reached under and stroked the dog’s chest. “You’re a fine specimen, aren’t you? Bet you got all the neighborhood bitches in heat dogging your tracks.” He grinned. “Kinda like me and women.”
Carly watched her cousin in fascination. Jarius seldom wasted his considerable charm on anything that wasn’t a two-legged female.
“I can’t get him to eat. Think I should take him to a vet?”
“Looks okay to me.” After another scritching under the dog’s neck he stood up. “You should try making him work for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Certain types of dogs are trained to be fed solely on a reward system. They got to work to eat. Bet he’s one of them. See how he’s watching your every move? He’s waiting for a command. Ask him to do something.”
“You mean like a trick?”
“I don’t know. I’m not the dog whisperer.”
Carly picked up a handful of dry food then turned to her furry guest. “Sit.”
The big shepherd immed
iately sat down, long heavy tail swishing back and forth.
“Good dog.” Carly placed a nugget of dry food in her palm and offered it to him.
He leaned forward, sniffed a couple of times, and then delicately took it from her.
Carly grinned at Jarius. “You were right.”
“Can I have that in writing? No, better a banner.” He held up his hands spaced wide. “Cousin Jarius is correct, again.”
“Cousin Jarius is full of himself.” Carly made the hand motion for down. The dog quickly complied. She offered him another nugget. This time he just stared at her. “Oh. Good dog. Good dog.”
The canine lunged forward and licked up the treat, swallowing it whole.
Carly beamed. “Poor baby. He must be starved. But one treat at a time is going to take me forever to feed him.”
“Yeah.” Jarius had moved to start opening cabinets. “You could take him out to fetch sticks or something. That’s a lot of dog to fill up.” He reached for a box of cereal, saw that it was one of those healthy granola mixes and shoved it back on the shelf. “But you should probably give him back to his owner.”
Carly sent him a startled glance. “What makes you think I know who his owner is?”
He shrugged. “You saved the man’s life. Thought you’d know his name.”
Her eyes narrowed at his tone. “Hold up. What do you know about last night? And don’t say “nothing,” because I know first responders gossip like teenage girls.”
“The fire? Nothing interesting.” He looked away and shrugged. “It was pretty routine.”
“It wasn’t routine for me.” Carly shivered and reached for more dry dog food. “Heel, boy.” The dog complied and got his treat. “A guy nearly died.”
“Right. About that. Don’t do that ever again.” Jarius moved to the pantry and stuck his head inside. “Even professionals won’t go into a fire without gear. There’s a thin line between bravery and stupidity.” His head popped out, a bag of chips in hand. “You crossed it.”