She met his gaze to ensure he was listening. “Was it my fan?”
The captain shook his head.
She was getting frustrated at his nonanswers but she wouldn’t lose her cool and alienate him. “Then how did it start?”
He eyed her. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Why in the world not?” she snapped and instantly regretted it when he took a step back.
He coolly appraised her, a sour look spreading across his face. “Fires are often started by homeowners who need money and are trying to scam insurance companies. I don’t want to inadvertently give you information that could change your story.”
This was exactly what Archer had warned her about. Emily opened her mouth to defend herself, then clamped it closed. She was in desperate need of money and Parker had likely already gathered that from the fund-raiser.
“Emily was with the former B and B manager, Ralph Inman, for an hour prior to the fire breaking out,” Archer offered.
She smiled her thanks, but she could barely lift her lips as after all the stress of the day, fatigue had finally set in.
Parker took off his helmet and swiped a hand over his head. “I’ll pass that information on to the investigator when he arrives.”
“When will that be?” Emily asked.
“He’s en route now.” Parker glanced at his watch. “I’d say fifteen minutes or so.”
“And if he thinks the fire was deliberately set, then what?” Emily asked.
“Then he’ll call in a detective from County. He’ll take over and a criminal investigation will be opened.”
“In your opinion, was this fire deliberately set?” Emily braced herself for his answer.
“The investigator will tell you more if he can.”
She wanted to get to the bottom of this and hated the captain’s noncommittal answers. “Can I see my room?”
Parker shook his head. “Official personnel only until the investigator or detective releases the scene. You’ll also need to contact your insurance company as they’ll most likely want to send out their own investigator.”
“But won’t your investigator just share his report with my insurance company?”
“Sure he will. We work hand in hand with insurance investigators all the time, as it’s often the insurance companies who actually prove arson. They have the money to perform rapid and more thorough tests when our department resources aren’t unlimited.”
This was getting more complicated and confusing by the minute when all she wanted was to know the cause of the fire and to repair the building so she could resume taking reservations. “Do I have to wait for the insurance investigator before I clean up from the fire?”
“Once the scene has been released to you, that’s between you and your insurance company. Any other questions?”
Emily shook her head and so did Archer. Parker settled his helmet back on his head and stepped to his truck.
She sighed in frustration as he walked away. “I just want to know how the fire started. Is that too much to ask?”
Archer stared at her, seeming to weigh something before speaking. Maybe holding something back. Something she needed to know to take control of the situation and move forward?
“What is it?” she demanded.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “In my quick peek at the room when I rescued Birdie, it looked like the fire started in your sofa.”
“The sofa. That’s odd, right? Aren’t most fires electrical?”
“I’m not sure about that,” Archer said. “But I think the investigator is going to prove that someone started this fire on purpose, and as I told Parker, I think one of Withrow’s friends is the most likely culprit.”
“You really think they’d go that far?”
“What do you think?”
She ran the day through her mind. The night. The threats. “Stan was devastated when Cindy died, so yeah, he could be that angry. Especially if Delmar riled him up, so I should look into him.”
“We have to look into him.”
Emily quirked a brow. “You want to continue to help me after tonight? Why? What’s in it for you?”
“I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”
She peered into blue eyes that were warm and compassionate. He really was one of the good guys, and he gave his help with no ulterior motive other than to be sure she was safe. She shouldn’t be surprised as he was a deputy, and law enforcement officers ran toward danger to protect those who ran away.
Runners like her father. Or the men her mother dated. They were all runners.
But Archer?
No, he was a man of his word and she graciously needed to accept his help.
“Thank you.” She peered up at him.
He took her hand in his and an irresistibly devastating grin wrinkled the corner of his eyes. All thoughts went out of her head other than wondering what it might be like to kiss him. He captivated her in a way no man ever had, and the warmth of his touch traveled up her arm. His smile suddenly fell and he let go of her hand.
Embarrassed at her reaction, she tucked her hand behind her back. She vowed to be on higher alert with him. Not only to fight her romantic attraction to him. That would be the easy part. But ignoring the nice guy. The man who was proving she could count on him. The man of compassion.
How did she defend herself against that?
By sticking to the business at hand, that’s how. She looked away and spotted local entrepreneur Lance Taylor making a beeline toward her.
“Great,” she grumbled. “He’s the last person I want to see tonight.”
“Who?”
“Lance Taylor.” She nodded at him. A runner, he was long and lean, and he had a narrow face with a mean expression. “He’s the king of B and Bs in this area, and he keeps trying to buy Birdie’s place to add to his holdings. She’s told him no a million times, but he refuses to back down.”
“You think he might have started this fire so he can ruin the business and get his hands on it?”
“Wouldn’t put it past him,” she replied, then stopped talking as he was nearing them. If he wanted something, he was relentless and Emily hoped he didn’t mention buying the B and B, as she was just too tired and worn down to fight him.
“Evening, Emily,” he said, his narrow lips tipping in a forced smile. “Sorry about the fire. Perhaps Birdie will want to sell now.”
“Just like you to swoop in on someone’s misfortune,” Emily snapped.
Lance had turned to look at Archer. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ve met.”
Archer introduced himself, but didn’t offer his hand in greeting.
“Did you start the fire to get Birdie to sell?” Emily asked before filtering her thoughts.
Lance shook his head. “I’m not a criminal. Just an astute businessman who stopped by to see how your little fund-raiser was doing.”
“Awfully convenient for you to be here, then.” Archer fixed Lance with a stare that Emily was sure he used on people he caught breaking the law.
Lance ignored Archer and his smile widened. “I guess the event isn’t turning out the way you had hoped. Why not end all of this struggling and convince Birdie to sell? I’ll pay cash and the two of you can be out of here lounging on some beach somewhere in a matter of days.”
Emily planted her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “How many times do we need to tell you that Birdie’s isn’t for sale before you get it?”
“Things change and I—”
Archer pierced him with an even more direct stare. “She doesn’t want to talk to you so back off.”
Lance looked at her for a long moment. “If you change your mind you know where to find me.” He spun and departed with a flourish, dr
awing attention as he always did.
Emily blew out her frustration and felt Archer watching her. She’d been so grateful for his help that she’d allowed him to step in on her personal battle with Lance. Normally, she’d tell him he had no business interfering. After all, she’d seen what happened to her mother’s life when men butted into it, but she was just too exhausted to deal with additional conflict tonight. If Archer did it again, that was another story, and she’d make sure he understood that she could handle herself.
She looked at him.
“Something about this Taylor guy is hitting me wrong,” he said, jaw muscles working. “If your fire was started intentionally, Detective Carothers will want in on this investigation, too. We’ll need to make sure to tell him about Taylor.”
Just the thought of Carothers coming back out to question her about the fire left her unsettled and told her she needed a break before speaking with him. Birdie needed rest, too.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Emily said. “I’d like to get Birdie settled in the cottage. Will you let me know what the investigator has to say?”
Archer nodded and Emily crossed to the ambulance. She listened to the medic’s instruction for Birdie and then gathered her aunt against her side and escorted her through the crowd and down to the guesthouse.
Emily flipped on the lights and let her gaze linger on the place she’d helped Birdie decorate. The long room made up the entire living area. A large stone fireplace filled one wall, and the other walls were painted white, rising up to a soaring ceiling with dark wooden rafters. The kitchen with a French country design was open to it all. Two bedrooms with a shared bathroom took up the remaining space in the rear of the building.
Birdie wandered into the space and ran her fingers over decorations that she had lovingly picked just after Emily’s sixteenth birthday. Now she stared at them with vacant eyes and a troubled look.
“You remember the cottage, right?” Emily asked.
“No,” she said matter-of-factly. Birdie had slipped back into her fog, but at least she wasn’t agitated, which leaving the B and B often caused.
Her aunt stepped to the bedrooms and gave them a long study before planting her feet outside the last door. “This isn’t right. I want my room.”
Emily would rather have her own room, too, but she didn’t need a sense of familiarity the way Birdie did. “I’m sorry, Birdie, but the power is out in the main house, and we can’t possibly stay there tonight.”
Emily didn’t add that they couldn’t even enter the house because of the arson possibility. And, of course, with the big hole in the roof, they wouldn’t be sleeping in their own beds for some time. If they ever did again. She had no idea if the emergency fund that she’d managed to hold on to would cover the repair costs.
“I was afraid.” Birdie grabbed one of the robes they provided in guest baskets and rubbed it over her cheek. “I woke up and couldn’t see. Tried to get out. Then I got lost in the room. You helped me. Thank you.”
She spoke the words as if Emily was a stranger, not a beloved niece. The fact was, in this moment, Emily was a stranger. The thought cut her to the core and she was torn between falling to a heap on the floor in tears or hugging Birdie in an effort to comfort her. Neither solved anything. Birdie would stiffen up and grow agitated. Crumbling to the floor would bother her aunt even more.
Truth be told, Emily most likely wanted the hug for herself. It had been a horrible day and she just wanted to be held until it all went away. The story of her life, and she’d get through this the same way she’d gotten through so many things. With resolve and control.
She went to the window. Stared up at the house. Saw Archer stroll across the lawn with the investigator.
She remembered Archer’s smile, and instead of letting it go, she allowed her mind to wander over what it would feel like to have his strong arms circle around her right now. To rest her head on his broad chest. Feel his heartbeat and know security, a feeling that had been missing since Birdie started her decline.
For a moment you’d feel safe, but then what?
Then memories of the men her mother had chosen in haste would come flooding back and she’d pull away from Archer before she started to care for the guy. Okay, fine, she’d already started caring. Not even a full day together and she had to admit she liked him.
It’s just the trauma speaking, she told herself.
How could she not have fond feelings for the man who rescued her twice in one day? And yet, he was practically a stranger so how could she even think she knew him let alone care about him?
She supposed she’d have to be a coldhearted woman not to feel something, and she was far from that. Though, men she’d met and who had tried to ask her out over the years would likely say she was. But she’d simply spent years developing the ability to hide her true feelings from others.
She let the curtain fall and turned back to Birdie, but she was missing. Emily’s heart hitched and she swung her gaze to the front door. It remained closed so she went to the first bedroom, where she found Birdie had climbed beneath the covers and was already fast asleep.
Emily tried hard not to worry about this brave woman who meant so much to her, but it lingered every day. Birdie had been declining fast and lately she’d been sleeping a lot. Emily didn’t know if that was natural or not. If it continued, she would call the doctor. But for tonight, she was just relieved her aunt was safe and sound.
Emily retrieved a bottle of water that they kept stocked in the refrigerator for their guests and made a mental note to talk to Archer about getting food supplies from the main house for morning breakfast.
Taking it to the sofa, she dug out her phone and the crumpled list holding names of people attending the fund-raiser. She started through the pictures she’d snapped. When she discovered an unfamiliar face, she jotted down the number of the photo for further research.
Every time a noise sounded from outside she sat up and waited for Archer to arrive with news from the investigator, but she finished reviewing the pictures and he still hadn’t shown up.
She went to the door to check on the progress outside. A crew of firefighters were securing the roof with a bright blue tarp and wooden slats. Their rhythmic pounding sounded like giant woodpeckers. Another crew was placing large fans by the doors, drawing out the smoke. The harsh scent clung to the air and memories of finding Birdie came rushing back.
What if Archer hadn’t been able to save Birdie?
A bolt of terror shot through Emily.
Hard as it was to admit, she needed Archer here. Needed him badly, as the charred building without a roof told her Delmar’s words were coming true. This wasn’t over.
SEVEN
After three long hours spent with Detective Carothers and the fire investigator, Archer took weary steps to the cottage front door. He found the main room lit with a single lamp in the corner, but no sign of Emily or Birdie. He shifted his gaze to two doorways on the far wall, both of them open. A night-light glowed from one, the other was dark. Bedrooms, he supposed.
Archer suspected Birdie slept in the room with the light in case she woke up confused. He stepped closer to the doors, but he stopped short of actually looking into the rooms and invading their privacy.
“Emily,” he whispered, hoping she was asleep and he wouldn’t have to give her more bad news tonight.
He heard movement, and she soon entered the living room. Her hair was damp and she wore stretchy black pants, paired with a blue-and-red-striped top with a large white sweater that swallowed her hands. She smelled of lavender instead of the caustic smoke still clinging to his clothes. Dark circles lingered under her eyes, and she rubbed them, then blinked a few times.
“Sorry if I woke you,” he said softly.
“I wasn’t asleep,” she replied. “You have news?”
“Let’s sit down.”
“Sitting down means the news isn’t good,” she said, but still dropped onto the sofa, looking expectantly up at him.
Just like a death notification call, it was best to come right out with the news to erase all lingering hope and help the person to accept their loss, but man, he hated to do it. “The fire was started by someone pouring gasoline onto the sofa in your room.”
“Are they sure?” she asked, her tone flat.
He didn’t expect her calm reaction, but maybe she was too worn out to conjure up any emotion. He took a seat on the coffee table in front of her and resisted the urge to reach out and lace his fingers with hers. “They found a gas can in the room and you can still smell the fuel on the fabric.”
“Then it’s official. Someone wanted to burn down the B and B.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Now we just have to figure out who.”
If she was thinking ahead, then she was taking this better than he expected.
“Did they find any evidence that might help us locate the arsonist?” she asked.
“Carothers will have forensics process the gas can for fingerprints and also try to track down the store where the can was purchased. He was focusing on Stan Fannon, but after I told him about Lance Taylor, Carothers added him to his list, too.”
She furrowed her brow. “I get how the prints will help, but not the purchase part.”
“If it’s an item sold exclusively at one store, and they have security cameras, we can request the video to get a look at all the people who recently bought the can,” he explained. “But you should know, it may not work as the arsonist could have owned the can for a long time.”
“Is that likely?”
He nodded. “The investigator said he was sure it wasn’t a professional arsonist. So yeah, it could be a can that the arsonist had lying around his house.”
“Not that I expected this to be started by a professional, but how can they rule it out so easily?”
“You know where the wall behind your bed is open and you can see the wood structure?”
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