Lonesome Lake
Page 2
Distracted by her silent rant, it took her a moment to realize he was speaking. “What did you say?”
“I saw the fire from my house, called it in and came over to help.”
“That’s right. You bought that huge compound up the street from here when you moved back to town,” Holly said, making it sound like Raines had committed a crime.
Either he didn’t hear her, or he chose to ignore the dig. It wasn’t her finest moment she admitted grudgingly to herself. Such pettiness over the loss of a job—even a prized one—should have been beneath her, especially when confronted with the arson and the destruction of someone’s dream.
Raising her camera, she zoomed in on the house, hesitating for a moment before pressing the shutter button. It felt disrespectful to film the loss of the home, even if she were doing it for evidentiary purposes. “Do you know the owners?” she asked.
“No. They’re from out of town. All I know is they rehabbed the house last year. Did a great job, too.”
Frustrated there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to help save the home, she looked around for something to do. The fire provided good light. She turned to him. “I’m going to make sure someone didn’t make it out and crawl off into the trees. I’ll handle it from here. You can head home.”
“Two flashlights are better than one,” he said with a grin and walked off toward the trees.
Holly wanted to bounce the hefty Nikon camera with its protruding zoom lens off the back of his head, but the paperwork would be too extensive. She had to settle for skewering his back with a baleful stare. “That’s just freaking fantastic.” She made sure to yell it loud enough for him to hear. He didn’t respond, but she could have sworn that his shoulders were shaking with laughter.
They scanned the lawn at the back of the house, working in a grid pattern all the way to the forest. A row of trimmed rhododendrons and azaleas bordered the grass. Raines moved the flashlight back and forth over the earth. He crouched down. “Check this out.”
“Tell me you’ve found a gas canister with a perfect set of fingerprints on it.”
“You wish, but there are a couple of branches snapped back here.” He shined his flashlight on the mud between the bushes. “And there’s a set of dirt bike tracks.”
Holly squatted beside him. “Maybe the owners have kids with bikes.”
He flicked the light across the lawn. “How come there aren’t any tracks on the grass leading over to the garage?”
He was right. The lawn was as flawless as a golf course. Holly grabbed a ruler from the fishing tackle box, placed it on the ground beside the tracks and snapped several photos. As they stood, she mused, “You know, all of the items taken during the break-ins were small enough to be transported on a motorcycle.”
Cutting her off with a sudden jerk of his arm, Raines aimed the flashlight into the depths of the forest.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Something moved in the trees back there, but I can’t see anything now. It could have been a deer.”
Holly gave him a sidewise look and shook her head. “Deer don’t tend to hang around a raging fire.” She pushed her way between two bushes to enter the forest. About twenty feet in, she had the strange sensation of stepping into another reality. The trees acted as a sound barrier to the turmoil behind them, and an eerie silence stretched out before her.
Raines swept the powerful beam back and forth like a World War II searchlight scouring the sky for enemy planes. His Stinger HPL could throw bright light up to fifteen hundred feet.
As he scanned the tree line to their right, Holly glimpsed a white face. “Over there,” she yelled and started running. “Someone’s hiding behind that tree.”
Chapter Three
Holly moved fast, shoving a sapling out of her way. The pencil-thin limb snapped back and whipped Raines across the face. She heard him swear, but he didn’t slow down. Her heart pounded with excitement from the hunt. The beams from their flashlights bounced up and down, picking up a gnarled root here, a low bush there. What it couldn’t detect was the woodchuck hole covered by dead leaves.
Holly’s foot plummeted down into the burrow. In an attempt to regain her balance, she hopped on the other foot and managed to steady herself, but Raines steamrolled right into her. Grunting, she fell forward. He reared back, grabbed the neck of her jacket and yanked her upright as if she were a little kid.
When Holly emitted a strangled, choking noise, he released her.
“Smooth, Raines,” she hissed, straightening her jacket. “Real smooth.”
Although he apologized, he didn’t sound all that contrite. In fact, there was a suspicious hint of amusement in his tone.
As she tugged her foot free, pain shot up her leg. Wincing, she doubled over and clutched her thigh with both hands.
“What’s wrong?”
Through gritted teeth, she muttered, “Nothing.”
“Is it your leg?” he asked, looking concerned.
“That’s a clever piece of deduction. What gave it away? Surely not my hands clamped to my leg?” At the age of seventeen, Holly shattered her femur and ripped apart her knee in a downhill race at the Olympics. A team of surgeons pieced her leg back together well enough so she could outrun most of the men in the department, but she never competed again.
Ignoring her sarcasm, he asked, “Can you walk?” Raines knew how damaged her leg had been because he’d visited her in the hospital.
“Of course I can walk,” she declared with far more bravado than confidence.
Raines stared at her for a moment, seeming to assess the injury.
She forced herself to let go of her throbbing thigh and straighten it without grimacing. “I’m fine. Now let’s find who’s out there.”
She could tell by the way he squinted at her that he didn’t believe her, but all he said was, “Did you recognize him?”
“No. His face was a blur.”
Against the blackness, a shadow moved to their left. Raines swung his flashlight over in that direction and caught the back of a man as he disappeared behind a tree.
Holly shouted, “Police! Stop!”
The figure broke cover and started to run again.
“He’s heading for the road,” Holly yelled.
Raines handed her the flashlight and took off after the man.
She wanted in on the chase, but she couldn’t outrun Raines, not after aggravating her old skiing injury. All she could do was train the light on the fleeing man to give Raines a target. The guy had a good lead, but Cal Raines had the athleticism of a champion tennis player. His lean, six-foot-two body was built for speed and agility. Holly watched him, sleek and powerful, run the man down with the ease of a tiger pursuing its prey. He leapt over a fallen log, swatted branches out of his way, and as the man broke through the trees near the street, Raines dove for him.
The man went down hard, with Raines on top of him. Holly heard a loud whomp followed by a muffled groan. Raines jumped up, grabbed the man by his hooded sweatshirt and jerked him to his feet.
Limping, Holly closed in on them and shined the light in his face. Although he raised an arm to shield his eyes, she recognized Jamie Bell, the photographer for the local newspaper.
Raines snarled, “What the hell are you doing here, Bell?”
Jamie squealed, “You goddamn idiot. You almost killed me.” Using his camera as if it were a medieval ball and chain, he swung it at Raines’ head.
With the reflexes of a prizefighter, Raines shifted his weight onto his back leg and feinted to the right to dodge the Canon and its enormous lens. At the same time, he blocked with his right fist by slamming it into the inside of Jamie’s right arm, who cried out in pain and released the camera. It sailed off into a bush about two feet from where Holly stood.
Before Jamie had a chance to do anything else, Raines twisted Jamie’s arm up behind his back. The photographer howled, but Raines didn’t relax his grip. He frogmarched him out of the woods onto the road.
Retrieving the camera, Holly followed them to the road.
When Raines let go of Jamie’s arm, he spun around to face them. “I’m going to sue you. Now give me my camera.”
Raines glowered at him. “Not until you tell us what you’re doing here.”
“What do you think I’m doing? You moron. I’m a professional photographer on assignment.”
Holly’s eyes widened in feigned surprise. “Congratulations, Jamie. I hadn’t heard that National Geographic finally hired you. I bet the folks over at The Mountain View were disappointed to see you go.”
“Screw you, Jakes. Hand over my camera. You don’t have a right to keep it.”
“What? You mean this camera you just tried to kill a law enforcement officer with? I don’t think so. This is evidence of a crime.”
“It slipped.”
Holly chuckled.
He glared at her.
She asked, “Why did you run? Only guilty people run. Did you start the fire, Jamie?”
Chapter Four
Gabby Swinford, the owner and editor of Caxton’s newspaper, was busy grilling Angel Natale about the fire when Raines burst out of the woods with Jamie Bell. Losing interest in Angel, she set her sights on the new target, marching off with a military precision that told Angel she meant business. He didn’t attempt to stop her. Short of arresting her, it would have been futile.
Once Gabby reached them, she ignored Holly and sidled up to Raines. “Well, if it isn’t Cal Raines. My favorite detective.”
Holly rolled her eyes at the soft purr in Gabby’s voice. It astounded her how many smart, independent women acted that way around Raines; although he didn’t seem to notice.
He nodded toward Jamie. “Let me guess. Your compadre called you.”
Gabby gave him an impish grin. “What can I say? We have a nose for news at The Mountain View. So, what happened?”
“It’s a fire.”
“Jeez! And to think I almost missed it, Cal. Thanks for the tip. But seriously, are the Milbournes okay?”
“They’re the owners?” Holly asked.
Gabby pursed her lips. “If I tell you what I know, will you give me first dibs on what happened?”
Holly glanced at Raines, who shrugged and said, “There’s a reason she’s known as ‘Quid Pro Quo’ Swinford.”
Holly turned to Gabby. “If I get something I can release, I’ll call you.”
“Great. Mimi and Charles Milbourne own the cabin.”
Holly pulled out her pocket notebook. “Do you know them?”
“No. They’re from out of town, somewhere in Boston, but my intern wrote a feature about their architect. He did an excellent job redesigning their property. Rural retro. Stunning wood and ironwork. What a shame. You remember, don’t you, Jamie? You came out here to take photos for the article.”
Raines stepped closer to Jamie. “Did you meet the owners?”
Jamie’s lips tightened in contempt. “No. I was due to meet the architect, but he had a family emergency, so the property manager showed me around instead.”
“Who was that?” Raines asked.
When Jamie didn’t respond, Gabby said, “Robert Beaupré. He’s a local realtor,”
Holly nodded. “I know him.”
“So, were the Milbournes here tonight?” Gabby asked.
Holly shook her head. “We don’t think so. Do you have a contact number for them?”
Gabby pulled out her cell phone, tapped it a couple of times and found the number.
Holly dialed it, but it went straight to voicemail, so she left a message explaining who she was and why she was calling.
After Holly disconnected, Gabby looked toward the fire. “You don’t think the Milbournes were in the house, do you?”
“All I can tell you is that their vehicle isn’t here.”
This seemed to satisfy Gabby, who turned her attention back to Raines. “So, why were you manhandling my employee?”
Holly listened to him explain what had happened. The anger he’d shown to Jamie vanished as he talked to Gabby. Even though Gabby was two years older than they were, they’d all known each other since they were kids. She’d been hot in high school and knew it. Back then, she’d had long legs and favored short skirts. Now thirty-six, she still had long legs, but she preferred jeans and bulky sweaters.
She’d dated Raines for about a month in high school. Considering he dated pretty much the whole female population of Caxton High, a month was considered a major commitment, Holly thought. What amazed her was that even after he broke up with her classmates, they still fawned all over him, and Gabby was a perfect example.
Since graduating, Gabby worked for her family’s newspaper. She lived by the tenet “if it bleeds, it leads.” Caxton, though, wasn’t known for its carnage. So, to sell more papers, Gabby tended to write in such a way that made the Thanksgiving Day Parade read more like the Battle of Gettysburg. The newspaper sold out every week. She was tough, but not with Raines, who was saying, “We caught Bell sneaking around in the woods.”
“I wasn’t sneaking anywhere,” Jamie whined. “Anyway, the owners wouldn’t care if I was here.”
Raines turned to him, “But you ran across my land, and I sure as hell care.”
Jamie roared, “You chased me and attacked me for no good reason, and I’m going to sue you.”
Gabby placed a hand on Jamie’s arm to restrain him. “Look, Jamie wasn’t doing anything wrong. I pay him to sneak around. They teach you that in Reporting 101. I need money shots for the paper. Times are tough, and a house fire is a good story.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Raines said, sounding sincere. “But I want to see his photos.”
Before Gabby could answer, Jamie bleated, “No way does he get to see them. It’s my First Amendment right.”
Holly was about to tell him where to file his First Amendment rights, but Gabby said with a touch of impatience, “Give it a rest, Jamie. You’re only burying yourself deeper.”
Undeterred, Jamie pointed his finger at Raines. “If he touches my camera, I’ll tie him up in court so long he’ll feel like he’s doing time with his brother.”
Holly glanced at Raines. An almost imperceptible tension stiffened his shoulders as if he was preparing to clock Jamie with a right cross.
Gabby stepped between the two men. Keeping her back to Jamie, she faced Raines. “If I agree to show them to you, will you drop any charges against him?”
Jamie made a strangled noise.
Raines smiled with such blatant satisfaction that Holly knew he did it just to amp up Jamie’s agitation.
“Why not? I’m an easy-going guy,” Raines drawled.
Gabby raised an eyebrow. “Let’s not get carried away, Cal. Kumbaya was never part of your repertoire.”
He laughed.
Gabby questioned Holly with a glance.
Holly shrugged. “He swung the camera at Raines, not me.”
Placated, Gabby nodded. “Okay. You can review the photos.”
Jamie looked ready to blow a gasket, but he kept quiet.
Holly flipped through the photos as Gabby peered over her shoulder to check them out. There were images of the fire and the firefighters but nothing useful or incriminating. “I want copies of these for my files.”
Gabby nodded her consent, and Holly handed the camera back to Jamie.
He took it, fiddled with it for a couple of seconds before raising the viewfinder to his eye and snapping a photo of Raines. “One for your fans,” he mocked as Raines blinked from the effects of the flash. “But I guess you don’t care about them since you ditched the band to play around at being a cop.”
Raines moved with ballistic speed, snatching the camera with one hand and Jamie with the other.
Holly assessed the situation. It could go one of two ways. Either Raines wipes the smirk off Jamie’s face with his fis
t, or he strangles him with the camera strap. Whichever way it went, she was good with it. Jamie deserved it after what he’d done to Raines and his nieces.
Gabby stepped in, laying a hand on Raines’ bicep. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. If you give Jamie the camera, he will delete the photo.”
Jamie made a move to grab it from Raines.
From where she stood, Holly could see Raines’ jaw muscle work overtime as he fought to control his anger. It was a struggle between his friendship with Gabby and a desire for revenge. When his brother, Nate, was on trial for murder, Jamie Bell had hurled vile comments at Raines and his nieces as they left court. He wanted them to react. It had worked. The girls had cried, and Bell took his photos, but Gabby refused to publish them. That hadn’t stopped Bell selling them to the tabloids, though.
Raines hesitated a moment longer before shoving Jamie away so he could check the camera. Jamie stumbled backward, arms flailing wildly for balance. Gabby grabbed his jacket and steadied her employee.
Raines deleted the photo before hurling the camera back at him.
Jamie had to jump to catch it.
Holly walked right up to Jamie, invading his personal space. “I want to know where you were this evening.”
Jamie didn’t answer.
Gabby snapped, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, tell them. I’ve had enough of this crap.”
He glared at them. “I was on a date with my girlfriend and heard the call over my scanner. Her name is Wendy Brown. She’s in the book.”
“So now that’s settled, why don’t you go and take a couple of photos of Officer Natale directing traffic,” Gabby told him.
He checked the deserted street. “What traffic?”
“Just do it.” There was an edge to her tone that brooked no disobedience.
After Jamie sulked off to do as he was ordered, Gabby asked, “Do you think this has anything to do with the burglaries you’ve been investigating?”