Wild Heat
Page 33
Sharing their bodies was one thing. Sharing their hearts was something else entirely. Especially when she didn't know if she had a heart left to share.
Finally, she said, “I knew from the start that I didn't want to be a firefighter, but I liked certain aspects of the job. So I ended up getting a degree in Criminal Justice. When my father encouraged me to go into arson investigation, it seemed like a good path.”
“You know, I was thinking that your father and Joseph must be around the same age. I wonder if they worked the same fires.”
It was hard for her to talk about her dad. They'd been so close.
“Probably,” she said. “He was based near Monterey, where we lived, but his crew was sent to wildfires in the Sierras lots of times.”
“I probably worked some of the same fires he did. When did he retire?”
Maya stared out the window at the cars rushing in the opposite direction. “He didn't. He died of lung cancer. A year ago.”
Logan's hand covered her knee, his warmth penetrating her thin cotton Lake Tahoe sweatpants. “Jesus, Maya, that's not fair.”
She was glad when he didn't point out how close together her father and brother's deaths were. Most people felt compelled to say that when they found out. It didn't help.
“You must miss him.”
“I do,” she said, “but I also know he wouldn't have done anything differently. And I wouldn't have wanted him to.”
“I'm sorry.”
His two simple words pierced her heart. She didn't want to talk about herself anymore. “What about you? Why firefighting? Why hotshots?”
She wasn't asking because she was an investigator and he was a suspect. She was asking for herself now.
“Joseph is a phenomenal man. A great mentor. And he loved what he did. I wanted that life.”
“It fits you.”
“It's all I've ever wanted to be. The only thing I've ever wanted to do.”
She had a sudden flash of insight into the gorgeous wildland firefighter sitting beside her. “It's what set you straight, isn't it? It's what made you stop lighting fires.”
He took his eyes off the road for a split second and caught hers. “You're right. It is.”
“And I almost took it away from you.”
“You were only doing your job.”
He was right. Which was why she couldn't relax and forget about the case. She had to keep asking the hard questions, even if it meant the end of their first truly pleasant conversation.
“Tell me about Dennis.”
His hand tightened on the gearshift. “What do you want to know?”
“You followed Joseph into firefighting. But his own son didn't. Do you have any idea why?”
“Flying a helicopter isn't easy.”
“No,” she agreed. “Being the passenger isn't always easy either.”
“Never would have figured a tough investigator like you would be prone to motion sickness,” he teased.
She had to laugh at herself. “Trust me, it's the only thing that's ever made me reconsider my choice of career.” Quickly, she got back on task. “I guess what I'm wondering is why not fly for the Forest Service? They can always use more guys on water drops and search-and-rescue.”
“They can, but not everyone is cut out for firefighting,” Logan said.
She'd seen enough rookies quit midway through their first year to know he was right. “That's true. But I can't help wondering if his staying away from the fire service goes deeper than that.”
“Deeper how?”
“Maybe he didn't want to be in competition with you.” Because he knew he'd lose, she added silently.
“Dennis and Joseph were good to me when no one else gave a damn. Dennis is my brother in every way that counts. Every family has its problems. They don't resolve them by setting fires and getting one another thrown into jail.”
Maya wished she could let her suspicions regarding Dennis go, wished she could drop it and return to the comfortable space she and Logan had shared just minutes ago. But the more she thought about her conversation with Dennis in the helicopter, the more it seemed like Dennis had a serious grudge with not only Logan but the entire hotshot crew. Could he have been the person who set the campfires that Logan had been seen putting out? Could he have digitally disguised his voice and left the message on the tip line?
“I hear everything you're saying, but what if this is a cry for help? A way to make sure his father finally notices him? And the perfect way to make sure you take the fall?”
A muscle jumped in Logan's jaw again and she hated having to put him in a position to defend—to doubt— his friend.
“Even if he was pissed at me for something, fire isn't Dennis's thing. Back when we were seventeen and I'd try to goad him into throwing a match into whatever fire I'd started, he never would. He wouldn't know the first thing about lighting motel rooms on fire or creating explosions on a hillside.”
“Maybe he had help from someone who knows fire behavior?”
Logan shook his head. “He doesn't have a lot of fire-fighter friends. Only me.”
Everywhere Maya looked, she saw brick walls. “Do you know where he was last week when he was on vacation? Did you see him at all? Talk to him?”
Logan pulled into a gravel driveway. “No, but I'm going to find out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE CRIME lab door was open when they arrived. Maya was used to urban steel-and-metal buildings where the chemists all looked alike in their white jackets and black-rimmed glasses. A red-and-white barn in the middle of pine trees took some getting used to, as did the spray-painted fire motif that ringed the walls. Even the chemist's arms were covered in tattoos of flames.
For a moment she wondered if she was looking at another pyromaniac—but without anything else to go on besides an abundance of fire graphics, she knew she was grasping at straws.
“David, thanks for opening up the lab on a weekend for us,” Logan said when they walked in. He took in his friend's casual beach clothes and flip-flops. “Damn it, I was hoping I hadn't pulled you off the lake. Sorry about that.”
The chemist waved away Logan's concern. “Don't worry about it. Kelly was dying to get me out of the boat so she could take it for a spin alone with her friends. She says I'm too much of a wimp to max out the speedometer.”
Finally, she said, “I knew from the start that I didn't want to be a firefighter, but I liked certain aspects of the job. So I ended up getting a degree in Criminal Justice. When my father encouraged me to go into arson investigation, it seemed like a good path.”
“You know, I was thinking that your father and Joseph must be around the same age. I wonder if they worked the same fires.”
It was hard for her to talk about her dad. They'd been so close.
“Probably,” she said. “He was based near Monterey, where we lived, but his crew was sent to wildfires in the Sierras lots of times.”
“I probably worked some of the same fires he did. When did he retire?”
Maya stared out the window at the cars rushing in the opposite direction. “He didn't. He died of lung cancer. A year ago.”
Logan's hand covered her knee, his warmth penetrating her thin cotton Lake Tahoe sweatpants. “Jesus, Maya, that's not fair.”
She was glad when he didn't point out how close together her father and brother's deaths were. Most people felt compelled to say that when they found out. It didn't help.
“You must miss him.”
“I do,” she said, “but I also know he wouldn't have done anything differently. And I wouldn't have wanted him to.”
“I'm sorry.”
His two simple words pierced her heart. She didn't want to talk about herself anymore. “What about you? Why firefighting? Why hotshots?”
She wasn't asking because she was an investigator and he was a suspect. She was asking for herself now.
“Joseph is a phenomenal man. A great mentor. And he loved what he did. I wanted that life.”
“It fits you.”
“It's all I've ever wanted to be. The only thing I've ever wanted to do.”
She had a sudden flash of insight into the gorgeous wildland firefighter sitting beside her. “It's what set you straight, isn't it? It's what made you stop lighting fires.”
He took his eyes off the road for a split second and caught hers. “You're right. It is.”
“And I almost took it away from you.”
“You were only doing your job.”
He was right. Which was why she couldn't relax and forget about the case. She had to keep asking the hard questions, even if it meant the end of their first truly pleasant conversation.
“Tell me about Dennis.”
His hand tightened on the gearshift. “What do you want to know?”
“You followed Joseph into firefighting. But his own son didn't. Do you have any idea why?”
“Flying a helicopter isn't easy.”
“No,” she agreed. “Being the passenger isn't always easy either.”
“Never would have figured a tough investigator like you would be prone to motion sickness,” he teased.
She had to laugh at herself. “Trust me, it's the only thing that's ever made me reconsider my choice of career.” Quickly, she got back on task. “I guess what I'm wondering is why not fly for the Forest Service? They can always use more guys on water drops and search-and-rescue.”
“They can, but not everyone is cut out for firefighting,” Logan said.
She'd seen enough rookies quit midway through their first year to know he was right. “That's true. But I can't help wondering if his staying away from the fire service goes deeper than that.”
“Deeper how?”
“Maybe he didn't want to be in competition with you.” Because he knew he'd lose, she added silently.
“Dennis and Joseph were good to me when no one else gave a damn. Dennis is my brother in every way that counts. Every family has its problems. They don't resolve them by setting fires and getting one another thrown into jail.”
Maya wished she could let her suspicions regarding Dennis go, wished she could drop it and return to the comfortable space she and Logan had shared just minutes ago. But the more she thought about her conversation with Dennis in the helicopter, the more it seemed like Dennis had a serious grudge with not only Logan but the entire hotshot crew. Could he have been the person who set the campfires that Logan had been seen putting out? Could he have digitally disguised his voice and left the message on the tip line?
“I hear everything you're saying, but what if this is a cry for help? A way to make sure his father finally notices him? And the perfect way to make sure you take the fall?”
A muscle jumped in Logan's jaw again and she hated having to put him in a position to defend—to doubt— his friend.
“Even if he was pissed at me for something, fire isn't Dennis's thing. Back when we were seventeen and I'd try to goad him into throwing a match into whatever fire I'd started, he never would. He wouldn't know the first thing about lighting motel rooms on fire or creating explosions on a hillside.”
“Maybe he had help from someone who knows fire behavior?”
Logan shook his head. “He doesn't have a lot of fire-fighter friends. Only me.”
Everywhere Maya looked, she saw brick walls. “Do you know where he was last week when he was on vacation? Did you see him at all? Talk to him?”
Logan pulled into a gravel driveway. “No, but I'm going to find out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE CRIME lab door was open when they arrived. Maya was used to urban steel-and-metal buildings where the chemists all looked alike in their white jackets and black-rimmed glasses. A red-and-white barn in the middle of pine trees took some getting used to, as did the spray-painted fire motif that ringed the walls. Even the chemist's arms were covered in tattoos of flames.
For a moment she wondered if she was looking at another pyromaniac—but without anything else to go on besides an abundance of fire graphics, she knew she was grasping at straws.
“David, thanks for opening up the lab on a weekend for us,” Logan said when they walked in. He took in his friend's casual beach clothes and flip-flops. “Damn it, I was hoping I hadn't pulled you off the lake. Sorry about that.”
The chemist waved away Logan's concern. “Don't worry about it. Kelly was dying to get me out of the boat so she could take it for a spin alone with her friends. She says I'm too much of a wimp to max out the speedometer.”
