Deadly Heat

Page 14

Monica flipped open her file. “Hmmm… an adrenaline junkie? It says here that both your father and grandfather were firefighters. Your dad—he died on the job.” A pause. “Guess they liked the adrenaline, too.”
“My dad was a damn good firefighter!” Max blasted.
Ah, now they were seeing some real emotion from the guy.
“You don’t know how many lives he saved,” Max snarled. “He didn’t give a shit about—”
“Oh?” Her head tilted back. “He didn’t care about the sex and the high from the fires? Not like you, huh?”
His fingers balled into fists.
“How old were you when he died?” Kenton asked, knowing it was time to slide his questions in and divide the guy’s focus.
Max’s head nodded toward the files. “She knows. Let her tell you.”
“You were sixteen,” Monica said.
Max’s jaw worked. “My old man died a hero. A hero. He saved five people from that building on Kurtworth. He made a difference.”
“He did,” she agreed and closed the file. But then Monica reached for another. “But your grandfather… he was another matter, right?”
Max flinched but Monica kept talking. “He started those fires that he fought in New York, didn’t he? The guy went to jail because he was a—what did you call it a few moments ago?”
“Fire freak,” Kenton supplied, watching the guy closely.
“Right,” Monica agreed.
Max’s fists slammed into the table. “I’m nothing like him.”
“Well…” Kenton crossed his arms over his chest and carefully studied the guy. “That’s what we’re here to find out.” Time to cut through the lies.
The door slammed behind Max forty minutes later.
“Making friends left and right,” Kenton muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s not about making friends.” Monica straightened her files. “It’s about saving lives.”
Kenton heard raised voices from the hallway. A distinct “Piss off” came from Max. Exhaling heavily, Kenton said, “My gut tells me that’s not our guy. His alibis are gonna check out, and he’s got too much rage at his grandfather—too much hate for what he did. The last thing he wants is to walk in his footsteps.”
“I think you’re right.” So she pushed his file away. “One down.”
The stack of files was huge. It was going to be a long afternoon. He reached for the next file.
Frank Garrison. Yeah, this one wouldn’t go easily. He rose and walked to the door. He twisted the knob.
Garrison was waiting for Kenton when he opened the door. One of Garrison’s thick brows lifted. “My turn, Special Agent?”
After this much time in the business, Garrison should know the drill. Kenton nodded and stepped back to make room for the chief to enter.
Garrison took his time getting seated. He stretched out his legs and eased back in the chair, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides.
Kenton closed the door and went back to his seat. Monica already had Garrison’s file open.
“I don’t have any secrets,” Garrison said, shrugging. “And I’m not the one you’re looking at for these fires.”
Everyone had secrets. Kenton’s gaze held Garrison’s. “You wanted Lora to bring in the SSD.”
“Lora had a hunch. Her hunches are usually sound.” The deep lines around Garrison’s mouth tightened. “And I didn’t want to run the risk of burying any more of my men.”
Sounded like the truth. Garrison’s gaze was steady and his voice was calm and easy. But Kenton didn’t really think the guy was the calm and easy sort.
Monica’s nail skimmed down the report. “You were the one who gave the order to evacuate at the Skofield scene.” She glanced up at him. “Even though you knew one of your own team members was inside, you told the others to leave Carter behind.”
Garrison’s hands rose only to flatten on the table. Ah, now that relaxed pose was starting to vanish. “Staying in would have risked other lives. I had a job—I had to get them out of there.”
“Lora didn’t listen to your order, did she?” Kenton asked.
Garrison’s breath rasped out. “I thought it was a damn miracle that she managed to get out alive.”
“Shortly after that fire,” Monica said, “you nearly left this station.”
Kenton caught the slight narrowing of Garrison’s eyes. “There were budget cuts.”
“And you were almost forced into early retirement.”
“Almost doesn’t count.” Garrison’s smile held a hard edge. “I’m still here. No one’s taking over my team.”
Interesting. “Do you trust all the men and women here, Chief?” Kenton threw out the question, wondering about the response he’d get.
Garrison’s eyes held his. “I trust them as much as you trust your own team.”
Ah, good answer. No wonder Lora liked the guy so much.
“We’re going to need to verify your whereabouts for the arsons.”
“I was on vacation for the first fire, doing some fishing down in Biloxi.” He shrugged. “For the others, I was here in town. I got to the scenes as fast as I could. Hell, I was on duty for the Skofield arson. I was right there when—” He broke off, swallowing, and he lowered his head.
The moments ticked by in silence before Garrison looked back up at them. “I don’t got a wife. No kids. So I’m not going to have somebody who can step right up and tell you where I was when these damn fires were set.” He leaned toward the table, his body tense. “For thirty years, this job has been my life. The fire has taken me down, but it’s never beat me. I stay here, every day, because this is where I belong. The people here—my team—they’re my family.”
So the station was his life, and he’d almost been kicked out of his only home. Sure would be cause enough to piss off most people.
Garrison stood, and his hands shook a bit. “I’m not the damn arsonist. I wouldn’t put my people at risk. I’d f**king never do that.”
“Perhaps you’re not putting them at risk,” Kenton spoke slowly. He could see the pulse racing just beneath the skin on Garrison’s throat. “I mean, if the firefighters were good enough, they’d save the victims and escape without injury. Maybe it’s not about hurting them. Maybe it’s about testing them.”
Monica leaned forward. “Are they failing your test?”
“They’re my team! I wouldn’t, I—”
“Since the arsons started in your area, there has been no more talk of budget cuts, right?” Kenton saw the chief’s face redden when he asked the question.
“Folks just realized they needed us,” Garrison snapped out the words.
“Guess they just needed a little fire to remind them,” Monica said, her voice quiet.
Two hours later, Kenton and Monica had worked their way through most of the firefighters at the Bringham station. They’d gotten some answers, some suspicions, and a lot of angry door slamming.
“Why don’t you… ah… let me handle the next one alone?” she asked.
Christ. He’d wondered when they’d get to her. “Lora?”
A nod.
Kenton stalked across the room and yanked open the door. “No, I can do my damn job.” The hallway was clear now as he marched forward, rounded the corner, and nearly collided with Max. “I need Lora.”
Max’s blue eyes narrowed. “I’m not a killer.”
“Neither am I.” Lora’s voice. She stepped into the hallway. “But I guess I’m up, huh?”
She’d changed and put on a light blue T-shirt with a firefighter’s logo on the right pocket. She wore a pair of slim black pants, pants that hugged her thighs. He averted his gaze. “Just a few questions…”
“Right.” She brushed past him. “And when will you guys go after the real killer?”
Ah, hit. The woman was good at taking her shots. If he didn’t watch it, he’d be as bruised as Max.
Luke followed her into the room and shut the door with a soft click.
“This is cozy,” Lora murmured and eyed the files. “Let me guess, my whole life is in one of them, right?” She glanced his way. “Know all my dirty secrets, yet?”
His lips pressed together.
Lora used her foot to yank out a chair, and she sat down, crossing her arms over her chest.
Oh, yeah. That cold shoulder was frigid. Sometimes doing his job could be a real bitch.
“So…” Lora drawled, “is this where you ask me where I was when the fires started? Because I can tell you that, easy. I was working, right here at the station, when those calls came in. Well, except for the fire that took that last poor bastard at the drug house on Byron, and the chief can back me up—”
“I’m sure he can.” Monica’s fingers hovered over the file, and she shot a quick glance his way. What? Did the woman really think he was going to cut out?
No way. He crossed his arms and stared down at them from his position near the table. Lora might be pissed as hell at him, but he wasn’t leaving her.
They’d both suffer through it.
Monica cleared her throat with a delicate little cough. “Have you observed any unusual behavior here at the station? Any guys seem preoccupied? Maybe depressed?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You’re not the killer.” Absolute certainty from Monica. “Kenton and I both know it. He said it before we even came down here, before I even got…” Her nails tapped on the manila folder. “Your file.”
Lora’s gaze jumped back to him. “Good to know, GQ.”
Hadn’t he told her that already? He stepped forward.
“But I’m thinking you’re a real observant woman, Ms. Spade.” Monica gave her a smile. “I’m observant, too. I notice things about people. It’s what I’m good at.”
“Good for you.”
Kenton coughed, his not quite as delicate-sounding as Monica’s.
Another tap against the file. “I noticed right away that this case was very personal for you. You want revenge.” Monica paused. “You don’t just want the killer stopped, do you? You want him to pay.”
“Innocent people died.” Lora gave a little shrug. “Payback can be a painful bitch. Just the way life is.”
“Since you want him stopped so badly, I know you’ll help us in any way you can with the investigation.” Monica was very smooth.
“I have been helping. I stopped waiting on Seth to dick around with these fires. I got your asses down here. I took GQ to the crime scenes—”
“And now you’ll tell us what you’ve seen, right? Tell us if you’ve observed anything odd from the guys in the station? Because that would really help, Lora. It would help a lot.”
Lora’s eyes couldn’t narrow much more. “I do love to be a helper.”
Kenton grabbed a chair, flipped it around, straddled it and locked her in his sights. “I’m an a**hole.”
Couldn’t get much blunter than that.
“Kenton…” Monica began, her finger no longer tapping.
“Yes, you are.” Lora assured him at the same moment. Ah, so much fire there.
He smiled. “But I’m good at my job. And you’re pissed, I know you’re pissed, but I also know that you understand what we’re doing. You don’t like us being here, questioning your friends, but you know we have to do it. You wanted us to investigate this perp, and that’s what we’re doing. We’re following all the leads, even the ones that might make you uncomfortable.”
Oh, but when this day was over, he damn well hoped that she’d let him back into her good graces. And into her bed.
She exhaled, and her shoulders relaxed a bit. The routine might piss her off, but she understood the way cases were worked. “You could have tried asking us to all give statements. Not telling us that we had to come in here for a grilling.”
He held her gaze. Earlier, he’d been afraid to meet that stare. Too nervous—so much for being the big, bad agent—about what he’d see. Because he liked to see need in Lora’s gaze. Lust. Interest.
Not anger. Not coming at him.
“I’m not real big on finesse.”
“Bullshit.” Lora’s lips twisted. “You’re fine at finesse. Better than fine. You’re trying to finesse me now. You’re a manipulator, GQ. You do whatever you have to do in order to get what you want.”
True. “I want to catch the killer. Same as you.” He was about to get singed by that anger.
“Dammit, I–I know.” Lora’s gaze darted between him and Monica. “But your techniques are shit, got me?”
Loud and clear.
“It’s not my guys, or Amanda,” she said, and he knew she was talking about the other woman he’d seen in the workout room. “Look, Rick’s depressed—his wife left him and took the kids. Max is pissed. He’s just as angry as I am—and trust me, I’ve got a whole lot of anger—because he buried his friend. We’re all upset, all hurting because of what happened to Carter.”
“Is there any guy that’s a loner? Anyone who doesn’t join in—”
“Yeah, me. Hell, even the newbie, Wade, is friendlier than me. Ask anyone.”
“Wade Copeland.” Monica gave a nod. “That’d be the probationary firefighter, hired—”