by Mallory Kane
“Stay on the porch,” he shouted, tossing her his phone. “Press 8. Fire department.”
Then he ran up the hall to the kitchen. Where did Misty keep her fire extinguisher? He glanced quickly around the old-fashioned kitchen. Nothing. He opened the cabinets under the sink. There—in the back.
Grabbing it, praying it worked, he headed for the den.
Half the room was engulfed in flames, and the heat was nearly unbearable. He sprayed, but the little fire extinguisher wasn’t up to such a big job.
Just as he had emptied the canister, he heard the sirens. The advancing flames forced him out of the room.
Laurel stood on the porch holding his cell phone in one hand and Misty’s cat in the other. The cat was squirming and yowling.
“You can let her down. She’ll be okay,” Cade said.
Laurel let go and Harriet took off into the darkness.
“What about you? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head jerkily and he put his arm around her waist and led her down the steps into the yard.
“What happened?” he started, but the arrival of the fire truck interrupted him.
He pulled her out of the way as the town’s volunteer firemen rushed inside with the fire hose. The roar of pressurized water drowned out the roar of the fire. Within a few minutes, the fire was out.
But as Cade knew from experience, the excitement was far from over. He enlisted his patrolman Fred Evans, who’d shown up with his hair sticking straight out in back, to maintain crowd control and told him to call Officer Shelton Phillips.
If possible, there were more people milling around than a few hours earlier when Misty was hurt. He answered the same questions at least two dozen times.
No, no one was hurt.
Yes, it was odd that Misty was attacked and her house burned on the same night.
No, he didn’t have any leads.
No, he didn’t need any help pulling sodden furniture or charred items out of the house.
Yes, it would help if everyone would just go on home to bed.
Finally, Fred and a couple of other men managed to disperse the crowd and Cade went to speak with Kit Haydel, the fire chief.
“That could have been a bad one,” Kit said, pulling off his gloves. “I wish people would get rid of all the fire hazards in these old houses.” He wiped his forehead with his forearm. “Bad wiring, rotting fabric and dried-out wood all over the place.”
“But bad wiring didn’t cause this fire.”
Kit shook his head. “There was a stack of papers and photo albums in the middle of the dining room table. Preliminary investigation indicates that the fire started there. And it wasn’t an accident.”
Cade nodded. “I figured that. How do you know?”
“It’s an amateur setup. The smell of lighter fluid is all over the place.”
“I didn’t smell anything but smoke.”
Kit grinned. “You work enough fires, you eventually learn the different smells. Lighter fluid’s different than electrical or gasoline or a cigarette.”
One of the firemen hollered at Kit, who waved at him.
“How’d you get here so fast?” he asked Cade.
“I heard the car alarm, and since we’d already had one situation tonight, I thought I’d better check it out.”
“Car alarm?”
Cade frowned. “Didn’t you hear it? Your house is about as close to Misty’s as mine is.”
“I was asleep.”
Cade had been, too—he’d thought. But when the faint sound of the car alarm had reached his ears, he’d immediately thought of Laurel.
“Need me for anything else tonight, Cade?”
“God, I hope not. We’ve had plenty of excitement for one day.” He nodded toward the house. “Can I get inside? Check for damage and evidence?”
“Yeah. I think we got all the hot spots.”
“Great. Thanks. You’ll get me a copy of your report, right?”
Kit sent him a mock salute as he climbed onto the fire truck.
Cade looked around. Thank goodness the rubberneckers had dispersed. Over by their cars, Fred and Shelton stood talking with a couple of neighbors. Every so often, one of them would gesture or point toward the house.
He didn’t see anyone else. A tremor of alarm streaked through him. He stalked over to Fred. “Where’d Laurel go?”
Fred frowned and glanced at Shelton, who shook his head. “Haven’t seen her since the firemen got here.”
“She must have gone back inside. Thanks, guys.” Cade sprinted toward the house.
“Hey, you want some help?” Fred called.
“Nope. Y’all head on home.”
He took the front steps two at a time and burst through the front door. The smell of wet, charred wood and fabric permeated the house.
He heard a cough coming from the den.
Laurel was standing just inside the door, facing the sodden mess that had been her friend’s living room. Her arms were folded and her fingers were white-knuckled.
“You shouldn’t be in here.”
She shrugged without turning around. “Where else should I be? Look what they did. Misty will be devastated.”
He took her arm and turned her around. “You need to—God, Laurel. What happened to you?”
Her face was red and her eyes were nearly swollen shut. He grabbed her other arm and squinted at her in the pale light shining in from the street lamps. “Were you burned? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shook her head. “No. The fire was after.”
“After what? What are you talking about?”
He studied her more closely. Only her face was red. Her bare arms and shoulders were as smooth and peachy-pink as he remembered them.
And she was soaking wet. He slid his palms up her arms, feeling her skin shiver at his touch. He clenched his jaw and dragged his gaze back to her face. “Tell me, Laurel. What’s wrong with your face—your eyes?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Is everyone gone? I really don’t want the whole town to know what happened. We need to keep this information quiet.”
He frowned at her. Her voice didn’t go with her words. The words were those of an investigator working a crime scene. Her voice, however, was small and scared.
He walked over to the window and peered outside. Everyone had gone. There were no cars on the street except for his and hers. A couple of houses down, where Kathy Adler lived, a light went off as he watched.
He turned back to Laurel. “They’re all gone. Now tell me what happened here.”
She kept her eyes closed while she talked. “My car alarm went off a little while ago and I ran out to reset it.” She rubbed her temple. “As soon as I stepped back inside the house, I was blasted with pepper spray. I went down.”
Alarm arrowed through him. “Inside the house?”
She nodded. “They threw me down in the hall, tossed a blanket over my head and kicked me. Then I heard the front door slam. I can’t believe I didn’t see them when I went out.”
“Obviously whoever it was hid in the shadows,” Cade said as he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. “Come here. I want to see your face.”
“It’s okay. I need to put more cold water on it.”
He pulled out a mini-flashlight and shone it on her cheeks and nose, and then in her eyes. Her face looked sunburned and her eyes were red and swollen. “You should have told me.”
“When? In the middle of the fire?”
He growled in frustration. She could be annoyingly rational. “I’m calling the doctor.”
“Cade, no. Please. We learned all about pepper spray at Quantico. I know how to treat it. This looks a lot worse than it is.” She gave him a little smile. “Most of the redness will be gone by morning. Besides, like I said, I don’t want anyone to know about this. Misty’s attack and the fire are bad enough.”
“What are you hoping to accomplish by keeping it quiet?”
“Maybe whoever’s doin
g this will think they’re getting away with it. Or get mad because nobody’s making a big deal about it. Either way, I’m hoping we can catch them off guard.”
Made sense, in her irritatingly rational way. But other, more pressing matters held his attention. He was still rubbing her arms, but what was supposed to be a comforting touch had turned into a caress.
She looked slender and delicate in her pink pajamas. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the tight peaks of her breasts hidden by a thin layer of silk. Her breasts, her slim waist, that perfect behind. Everything about her attracted him.
Not even her splotchy red face and swollen eyelids spoiled her allure. To his chagrin, his body began to react. Suddenly he was as turned on as a randy kid. Except right now, his primary feeling wasn’t horniness. He felt protective and caring.
He touched her cheek, where the redness almost hid her freckles. “Does it hurt?”
She gave him a sheepish little smile. “Please do not hand me that old joke.”
“What joke?” He frowned at her.
“You know—does your face hurt? Because it’s killing me.”
He laughed. “You think I’m that mean?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. A lot of folks in this town are.”
He pushed a stray hair back from her forehead. “Not me.”
He couldn’t believe how many colors danced in her eyes, even surrounded by pink, swollen flesh. Hazel eyes had always seemed sort of flat and uninteresting to him. But Laurel’s were green and amber, with a touch of blue and a few specks of an odd rust color. Fascinating.
His arousal stirred even more as he moved his gaze from her eyes to her mouth. Her lips were moist and looked infinitely kissable.
“Cade?” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips and he felt a groan start deep in his throat. Suddenly, he realized just how close he was to kissing her.
He had a crime scene—another crime scene—to deal with. He needed to focus.
Besides, she was only here for the weekend. He could rein in his inconveniently raging libido for two days.
Right now, he needed to know exactly what had happened. “When did you notice the fire?”
Laurel moistened her lips. “When I came out of the bathroom, I smelled smoke and saw the flickering light. Whoever was in here must have started it while I was outside dealing with the car alarm. They didn’t have time once I came back inside.”
“So they set off the car alarm, sneaked in and started the fire while you were outside, then maced you when you came in, and ran.”
She nodded. “I think they were trying to find and destroy the pictures. Misty’s and mine.”
“Or trying to kill you.”
Laurel stared at him. “Kill me? No. I just got here. No one has a reason to kill me.”
“Think about it. Everything was fine until you showed up. You’re stirring up things someone wants to keep buried.”
“So you think I’m right about Wendell’s death?”
“I don’t know, but it sure looks like somebody’s trying to stop you from nosing around.”
“Oh! I need to check on my photos.” She turned and headed toward the back of the house.
Cade followed.
In the guest bedroom, she reached for the jacket she’d tossed across a chair and felt in the pockets. With a sigh of relief she pulled the pictures out. “They’re here.”
“I’ll put them in the evidence room.”
“So you do think I’m right about Wendell.”
He shrugged. “Whoever’s behind this is desperate. They’re risking lives to keep something quiet. These pictures could be the key. I’d feel better if they were locked up. Plus, it’d be nice if you weren’t attacked again before daybreak.”
She sent him a narrow gaze.
“Or ever, if I can help it,” he amended with a small smile. He took the pictures from her and slid them into a plastic bag from his pocket.
“Okay.” He looked at his watch and sighed. “Almost 4:00 a.m. I think we’ve had quite enough excitement for this weekend.”
“And this is just Friday. I’ve still got the reunion to get through.”
“Are you sure you want to stay? It’s obvious you’re a target. I’ve called Misty’s parents. They’re coming up from Florida this morning to take her home with them. You should consider going back to D.C.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not going anywhere. I believe Wendell was murdered, and I’m not leaving here until I can prove how he died.”
He sighed. “Well, Special Agent Laurel Gillespie, you’ve certainly stirred up a hornet’s nest. Get dressed. You’re going to have to come with me. You sure can’t stay here.”
She looked around at the mess. “I guess not.”
He picked up her jacket. “Here. Put this on.” He held it for her but she stopped.
“Oh, my God! I dropped my gun when I got maced. I tried to find it but my eyes were burning too much.”
“Where is it?”
“It should be somewhere in the foyer, but—”
“Okay. We’ll look.”
It didn’t take two minutes to realize that the weapon was nowhere to be found.
“Whoever attacked me must have picked it up.”
Cade swallowed that information. Not good. Not good at all. “Whoever’s doing this is armed.”
Chapter Four
Laurel quickly dressed and packed her small suitcase. “I let them get my weapon. What a rookie mistake,” she said to Cade.
“You were blinded by Mace.”
Cade’s words didn’t make Laurel feel any better. She shook her head. “First thing the FBI teaches you—hang on to your weapon no matter what.”
“You’re right. It’s not good that your attacker has your gun. Do you have a backup?”
She thought about the little Smith & Wesson in her suitcase and nodded. “I’ve got to report my weapon missing, though.” She didn’t want to think about what her boss, Mitch Decker, would say. He was kind and understanding—to a point. But he expected a lot of his agents—as much as he did of himself. Laurel hated to disappoint him.
Cade touched her arm. “Come on, we’ve got to find you a place to sleep.”
Laurel shook off his touch. “I need to go through that mess. If there’s anything left, I need to find it. The only reason someone would do this is if they were afraid of what Misty’s pictures might show.” She headed toward the dining room. “At least he didn’t have time to find what he was looking for, or he wouldn’t have bothered to set the fire.”
“You need to see a doctor about your eyes and then get some sleep.”
She ignored him. The dining room was a charred, sodden mess. Her stomach sank to her toes. “Poor Misty. He tried to burn every photo she had.”
She picked up a partially burned snapshot, then another and another.
“I’ll have Shelton box them up,” Cade said. “He and Fred can go through them tomorrow.” He took the snapshots from her hand and laid them back on the table.
She picked them up again. “I don’t want anyone to see these. I’d rather the attacker think they all burned up.”
“Okay then, I’ll get my dad to do it.”
She looked up. “Your dad? Oh, Cade, I never asked about him. Misty told me he’d had a stroke. Is he okay?”
“He’s doing fine. He has a little trouble with his speech, but there’s nothing wrong with his mind or his body.”
Her eyes were starting to burn again. She covered them with her palms. “I’m so glad he’s okay. It was wonderful of you to come back to stay with him. With James’s death and then the stroke, he must have been so glad to have you.” Misty had told her at the time that Cade had just finished his training at Quantico. He’d given up his FBI job to come home and help his father.
Cade nodded. “Yeah. Come on. You need to see a doctor.”
“I told you, this will be better after I get some sleep. If y
ou want to do something for me, check Misty’s medicine cabinet. See if she has some saline eyewash and a bottle of witch hazel.”
He frowned. “Witch hazel?”
“Misty hasn’t changed a thing in this house since her parents moved to Florida. I’d bet money her mother kept witch hazel in her bathroom cabinet.”
While Cade went to check the bathroom, Laurel closed her eyes and went over the timeline of her attack. But try her best, she couldn’t put herself into the mind of the perpetrator. This time she was the victim and that was all she could think about—how helpless she’d felt against the Mace and the blanket.
The attacker had slipped into the house while she was dealing with the car alarm. He must have dumped the photos and lit the fire in record time, because she couldn’t have been outside more than four or five minutes, and the fire was already raging when she came out of the bathroom.
“Here you go. You were right.”
Laurel opened her eyes to a tiny slit and saw the plastic bottle of witch hazel in Cade’s hand.
“Of course, who knows how old it is.”
“I don’t care,” she said.
“Let’s go. I just talked to Mr. Holder. He owns a bed-and-breakfast near my house.”
“What about Harriet?”
“The cat will be fine tonight. We’ll do something about her tomorrow.”
“I’ll drive my car.”
Cade took her by the shoulders and pointed her in the direction of the front door. “No, you won’t. Not with those eyes. We’ll get it tomorrow.”
She gave in. “Don’t forget the photos.”
“Not a chance.” His voice held a note of irony.
LAUREL SLEPT with cotton pads soaked in witch hazel on her eyes. She only got about three hours’ sleep but her eyes felt much better. She put on her makeup very carefully.
Then she paced. It was nine o’clock. Where was Cade?
She’d already talked to her boss Mitch about the loss of her weapon. He’d told her where to get the forms she needed to fill out.
Fuming, she looked around for a phone book. If Cade thought he was going to leave her sitting around nursing her eyes all day, he had another thing coming. She had too much to do. They had to question all the members of the Reunion Committee, go through Misty’s photos and Wendell’s case file and prepare for the party.