Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | Melting Point

Melting Point
Debra Cowan


Collier McClain narrowly escaped being killed by the bullet that took a fellow firefighter's life. One of the first cops at the scene was Blaze, a woman who ignited the kind of heat that could sear a man's soul.With a fourth firefighter down, Detective Kiley Russell was in dire need of backup. Someone used to being in the line of fire. Someone like Collier McClain, a man she'd been trying to forget since they shared a bone-melting dance that made her burn for more.Now they were partners in a murder investigation, where the greatest danger came from their sizzling attraction….









“What’s the matter, Russell? Afraid you might like me in spite of yourself?”


It was already too late for that. Kiley Russell faced him. “Don’t misunderstand. I think we can work together just fine, but let’s keep things strictly business.”

“All right.”

“Which means we probably shouldn’t be dancing.”

Collier released her arm. “Gotcha.”

Ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach. Kiley watched as he turned and made his way through the crowd toward the bar. Good. Now there would be no misunderstandings, no more dancing, no more touching.

Her gaze traced the broad line of his shoulders, the slightly ragged edge of his dark hair as she recalled the seductive feel of his hard body against hers.

Who was she kidding?

What she felt for him was hotter and more dangerous than mere “like.”




Melting Point

Debra Cowan





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




DEBRA COWAN


Like many writers, Debra made up stories in her head as a child. Her B.A. in English was obtained with the intention of following family tradition and becoming a schoolteacher, but after she wrote her first novel, there was no looking back. After years of working another job in addition to writing, she now devotes herself full-time to penning both historical and contemporary romances. An avid history buff, Debra enjoys traveling. She has visited places as diverse as Europe and Honduras, where she and her husband served as part of a medical mission team. Born in the foothills of the Kiamichi Mountains, Debra still lives in her native Oklahoma with her husband and their two beagles, Maggie and Domino.

Debra invites her readers to contact her at P.O. Box 30123, Coffee Creek Station, Edmond, OK 73003-0003 or via e-mail at her Web site at: www.debracowan.net.


This book is dedicated to firefighters.




ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


My deepest gratitude to David Wiist, retired Chief of Fire Prevention, Edmond, OK, a true gentleman who patiently answers countless questions; to Jack Goldhorn, PIO, Norfolk Fire Rescue, Norfolk, VA, whose enthusiasm always makes me smile. Both of you go beyond the call to help me with accuracy. Any errors are mine. To Linda Goodnight, nurse, writer and friend, and her wonderful son, Dr. Travis Goodnight. Finally to my agent, Pattie Steele-Perkins. Thanks for never giving up.




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14




Chapter 1


A gunshot exploded in the frigid night, the sound cutting sharply through the thunking of the hydrant valve and the water gushing through the fire hose. In full turnout gear, Presley firefighter Collier McClain threw himself to the ground. A few yards in front of him, at the door of the burning warehouse, Dan Lazano wobbled and fell. The nozzle flopped. Collier automatically moved his hand up the line to gain control and shouted, “Mayday! Firefighter down!”

Keeping the nozzle on and water streaming into the building, he belly-crawled forward. Light from the flames illuminated Lazano’s steel-soled boot. Collier wet down the surrounding space, making a “safe area” for him and the injured man as the two-man Rapid Intervention Team from the Presley Fire Department followed the hose line straight to him.

The moon was a bloodless white, the January air brittle. Black smoke and hot water wrapped around Collier like a thermal blanket, burning his neck. He sprayed water on the safe area until Pitts and Foster reached Lazano, then he pushed the lever forward to turn off the nozzle.

As two other firefighters dragged in another line already shooting water, Collier moved out behind Lazano and the rescue crew. Pitts and Foster, firefighters and medics, dragged the injured man into the grass, yards away from the building. While they began administering basic life support, Collier yanked off his helmet and Nomex hood, his heart hammering in his throat.

“Damn,” Pitts yelled. “He’s gone.”

Collier followed the other man’s gaze and saw a dark wetness spreading over Lazano’s chest through a ragged hole in his turnout coat.

“McClain, is that Lazano?”

Through the stomp of feet and hiss of water and grunts of effort, he recognized Captain Sandusky’s voice and nodded. He stared down in disbelief at the black stickiness on his glove. Blood?

“What happened?”

Collier shook his head.

Sandusky knelt, reaching toward the downed man. “Is he out?”

“He’s dead.” Collier’s gaze locked with his captain’s.

The other man blinked, alarm rising in his voice. “Where did that gunshot come from?”

Collier jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Pitts and Foster looked away, their throats working.

“This is four.” The captain’s tortured words mirrored Collier’s thoughts.

Since October, three other firefighters had been murdered. Tonight’s victim and one other were from Station House Two.

Sandusky flipped on his flashlight, then cursed. “I’ll call the police. Your new boss, too.”

Collier stood there stunned, only one thought circling through his head. If he’d been first on the nozzle tonight, as he usually was, as he had tried to be, he would be the one lying dead in the grass.



A firefighter had been killed at a fire scene. Not by smoke or burns but by a gun. Murdered.

Detective Kiley Russell wished she didn’t have experience with anything like this, but she did. All of three months’ worth. Lieutenant Hager had paged her tonight because of the other firefighter murders she had been working since October. His grim announcement of another victim had balled a cold knot of dread in her gut. Serial killer. A sniper.

The first victim had been killed during a fire call at the gymnasium of Presley’s oldest high school. The second victim had been murdered five weeks later at a motel he’d checked into with a mystery woman. Number three, the only female, had been shot in her home garage.

Somebody was after the firefighters in this Oklahoma City suburb.

Kiley gathered her mass of wild red hair into a ponytail, stuffed her feet into sneakers and grabbed her heaviest coat out of the hall closet. Moving out of the house, she clipped her badge and holstered Taurus onto the waistband of her jeans. The new year was starting off with a bang. Literally.

January cold pressed the air like a thick layer of batting. As Kiley maneuvered her late-model Mustang through the streets of Presley, she called her sister’s cell phone and left a message so Kristin would know Kiley would miss their weekly Saturday breakfast just a few hours from now.

She headed for the south side of town and Benson Street, an industrial area that housed several warehouses. The fire was at Rehn’s Coffee Warehouse.

By the time she arrived, patrol officers had blocked off the area. Red and blue lights flashed from the police cruisers book-ending the scene. She showed her badge to the uniformed officer posted at this end of the street, then parked beside the ambulance crouched in front of the curb with its back doors open, its empty gurney raised and waiting.

Scanning the massive building, Kiley stepped out of her car and pulled on her fleece-lined gloves. The blaze appeared to be out. Large scene lights, attached to two fire trucks, shone on the warehouse. Gray-brown smoke swirled into clouds. A concrete drive, wide enough to accommodate two semi trucks side by side, led up to a heavy metal door. Docking doors and offices opened into a large parking lot on the side.

Shards of glass glittered in the dusky white light put off by bulbs shining from under the eaves of the flat-topped building. Black sooty water ran down the concrete drive and into the streets, sloshing over the tops of her tennis shoes.

Kiley’s breath frosted the air. Thank goodness this wasn’t a residential area and there were no bystanders. Three fire engines, one ladder truck and one rescue unit lined the curb in front of the warehouse. Stations One, Two and Four, she observed. More than one Presley station house responded to fire calls, mainly to ensure enough manpower. House fires typically had two stations responding as well as the station that housed the rescue truck. The size of this warehouse had probably warranted the response of three stations. Tonight’s victim was the second one from Station Two. Did that mean anything?

Three black-and-whites, two trucks from local utility companies and the M.E.’s wagon crowded the width of the street. Two vans sporting local news logos pulled up to the barricade blocking traffic behind her. Kiley moved around the rear of her car and stopped at the curb to give her name and rank to the cop logging in personnel with his clipboard. A sharp wind pulled tendrils of her hair across her face, and she shoved them back.

Having checked in, she started up the flat drive, sidestepping deflated canvas hoses. Firefighters moved around the scene, the short browned grass now soggy and black. A length of yellow crime-scene tape stretched down the left side of the drive, across the entrance and up to the back corner of the shipping dock. Although she expected to find nothing, she sent two officers to search the area and the area across the street for the gun.

There were no windows in the front of the building, but there were several on the side, a few panes now shattered and saber-toothed in the darkness. A male firefighter stood in the center of the football-field-size drive, aiming a video camera at the scene. Kiley had recently learned that the Presley Fire Department videotaped eighty percent of their scenes, especially if they appeared suspicious.

About seventy-five yards from the door, a lone fireman knelt on the ground next to a body. Other firefighters gathered around him.

“Detective!”

Kiley turned to see Captain Martin Sandusky from Station Two.

“Here. You’ll need to put on some boots.” The barrel-chested man, sweating despite the freezing temperature, caught up to her. “That way you won’t have to worry about any hot spots or sharp objects.”

Debris littered the grass and the cracked concrete drive. From what Kiley could tell, the trash appeared to be mostly ash, glass and fiberglass insulation, but nails, screws and pieces of metal could easily be scattered as well.

“Thanks.” She took the steel-soled rubber boots and pulled them on over her tennis shoes, then walked with the captain up to the circle of firefighters.

Frigid air stung her cheeks and nose. She burrowed deeper into the lining of her coat. Presley was small enough that all police, including the detectives, worked solo except in fire death cases. Procedure between Presley’s police and fire departments stated that when PFD had a dead body at a fire scene, they contained the blaze then stopped and called Homicide. Tonight, the victim was again one of their own.

“What can you tell me so far?” she asked the captain.

“We rolled up. Lazano and McClain both headed for the nozzle. I thought McClain had it until I heard a boom and saw Lazano being dragged over by the rescue crew.”

So, Collier McClain was working tonight. Peachy. “How severe was the fire?”

“It was going great guns when we arrived and powered up as soon as Lazano got the door open, but it was out in less than twenty minutes. It was a sniper shot again, came from behind us across the street.”

What was going on with this lunatic? As she approached the tight circle of firefighters with their captain, the five men and two women eased back enough that Kiley could see the body.

Captain Sandusky cleared his throat, drawing the gazes of the firefighters except the one guarding the victim. “Guys, here’s Detective Russell.”

They greeted her with solemn nods. She’d come to know most of them over the past three months.

“Where’s Investigator Spencer?” someone asked.

“She’s on her way.” Kiley took in the soot-streaked yellow hats, the wet, grimy turnout gear, smoke and tear-reddened eyes on all the firefighters, but her attention homed in on the man lying motionless at their feet.

Still wearing turnout gear, the man’s handsome face and dark eyebrows were unmarred from smoke. The glinting darkness of blood on his chest had Kiley swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Who moved the body?”

“We did.” Two firefighters raised their hands.

“Pitts and Foster,” Sandusky supplied. “They’re our Rapid Intervention Team tonight.”

“We retrieved him and started working on him,” one of them said.

“It’s standard procedure.” The kneeling fireman raised his head and looked at her.

The air seeped out of her lungs. After Sandusky’s mentioning that Collier McClain was here, she had expected to see him, but she hadn’t been prepared.

In this light, his eye color was impossible to discern, but Kiley remembered the stormy green that was now glazed with shock. That wasn’t all she remembered.

She’d spent the past four weeks trying to forget the Christmas party at the Fraternal Order of Police club. That knee-melting dance. His nerve-tingling drawl. Why did he have to be here?

He gestured to the body crumpled on the frosty grass. “Lazano had on all his protective gear, but they had to get him out of the danger zone, see the extent of his injuries. There was no way of knowing if the building was going to come down, if the fire was going to swallow us up.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the warehouse, ignoring the sudden hitch in her pulse. Collier looked ragged, but he was as darkly compelling as ever. The concrete building was streaked with black, and glass littered the east edge of the driveway. “Looks like the fire was contained pretty quickly.”

“It was,” the captain put in, staring down at Lazano’s body.

“I’m sorry about your man, Captain. I’ll be able to piece the scene back together with firefighter statements and those from your RIT.”

“Good.”

She refocused her attention on Collier. His helmet rested beside him.

“Here comes Investigator Spencer now,” someone said.

“I’ll see how she wants to handle this.” Kiley broke away from the others and went to meet Presley’s fire investigator, needing a moment to gather her composure.

After that dance at the Christmas party, she had asked her sister what she knew about Collier McClain. Kristin had told her that he had broken his engagement about eighteen months ago and since that time he had dated and dumped half the women on the city’s payroll. Hearing about Collier’s playboy reputation had immediately thrown up the walls Kiley had built while growing up with a man just like that.

She had dated a lot in her thirty-one years, but she’d made it a rule to never date guys like Collier, guys she had come to refer to as “hit-and-runs.” Thanks to her father, Kiley knew to keep a distance from men whose relationships didn’t last as long as it took to spell the word. Whatever reaction she’d had to the rangy firefighter during their dance had been nipped in the bud. She needed to shake it off and get her head in the game.

Kiley had been working with Terra August Spencer since the first firefighter murder in October. Even if it hadn’t been city policy, Kiley needed the expertise of a fire cop. The clue to solving these murders might be something found at a fire scene. So far, all their leads had fizzled out, which frustrated them both.

They had four firefighters who had been murdered—shot. Two of them during calls and two who had been killed while off duty.

The willowy fire investigator moved with the slowness of her advanced pregnancy. Kiley knew from their recent work together that Terra Spencer was due in a month’s time. She gave the other woman a smile of recognition. “How are you feeling?”

Terra grimaced. “Like a blimp. And I’m moving about as fast as a turtle. Sorry y’all have to wait on me.”

“No problem.”

Concern darkened her green eyes. “Who’s down?”

“Dan Lazano.”

“I didn’t know him very well,” Terra murmured. “What can you tell me?”

Just as she started to fill the other woman in on what she knew so far, the investigator’s cell phone rang.

Terra reached into her pocket and flipped open the phone. “Hi, honey.” She looked at Kiley and held up a finger as she stepped a few feet away, reassuring the person on the other end.

Probably her gorgeous husband, Kiley surmised. Terra had married Presley detective, Jack Spencer, a couple of years ago. She’d been glowing ever since. The impending birth of their child made her radiant.

Kiley felt a twinge of envy. She’d kissed plenty of frogs during her thirty-one years on this planet, but never her Mr. Right. She wasn’t sure what she wanted in a man, but she knew what she didn’t want. Her gaze slid grudgingly to Collier McClain. She knew exactly what she didn’t want.

“Sorry about that.” Terra walked back over to her, sliding her cell phone into the pocket of her heavy coat. “The closer the due date gets, the more Jack checks on me. Now, what’s happened?”

Kiley smiled, giving the woman her full attention as she answered.

When she finished, the other woman shook her head, horror streaking across her face. “I guess we haven’t had any luck finding the weapon?”

“I’ve got a couple of uniforms searching the area, but there’s nothing yet.”

Terra gave a start and patted her stomach with an apologetic look. “The baby doesn’t like being dragged out of bed.”

Kiley grinned. “Neither do I.”

“I guess we’d better begin. Maybe we’ll turn up something here.”

“Maybe so.” Kiley shared the fire investigator’s frustration over the cold trail of leads on their other homicides.

As they moved toward the group of waiting firefighters, Terra said, “I’ll go ahead and do the walk-around with the guys then meet you back here. Once we determine the structure is secure, you and I can go inside and begin our investigation there.”

“All right. I’ll start interviewing witnesses.” And she would start with Collier McClain.

Presley had seen a serial arsonist before, but not a serial killer. A little over two years ago, a cameraman for one of the local news channels had started setting fires to get Terra’s attention, then murdered anyone who he perceived as distracting her attention from him.

Kiley had been promoted to detective ten months ago and in October had happened to catch the call involving the firefighter who’d been shot in the back as he ran into a fire at Presley High School’s gym.

Terra lifted the camera around her neck to snap pictures of the building and surrounding area. Two firefighters unloaded portable floodlights from Terra’s SUV and set them up inside the warehouse. The daylight-strength power of the scene lights outside brightened the area.

When the other woman started toward the building, Kiley walked over to the body again. The group of firefighters had scattered. Dan Lazano’s facial features were recognizable. Since he had been wearing all his protective gear, there were no visible burns on what she could see of his body.

Ken Mason, the Oklahoma County coroner, knelt beside the body.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“No soot around or in the nose or mouth, no burns at all. Like Sandusky said, Lazano never made it into the building. The only injury I’ve noted so far is the gunshot wound. It’s a through-and-through.”

In through the back, out through the chest. “Thanks.” She turned, searching for Collier McClain and saw him near the warehouse’s front door talking with Terra.

The man was rangy, strong and built with the lean lines of a baseball pitcher. His hawkish features were sharp in the unstinting white light from the megawatt bulbs illuminating the scene. He wasn’t her type at all, which was exactly why she’d danced with him. And why her over-the-top physical reaction had rocked her. Might as well get this over with.

Taking a deep breath, she started toward him. He left Investigator Spencer to meet her halfway.

“I need to ask you some questions,” she said quietly.

“All right.” He looked tired and dazed.

“Tell me what happened. Or what you remember.”

He dragged a hand down his face, his turnout coat wet, his breath curling in the cold air. “I went for the nozzle.”

“Was that usually your spot?”

“Whoever got there first, but yeah, it was usually me.”

“Go on.”

“I was off the truck and ahead of Lazano when this stupid cat tripped me. By the time I got around the dumb thing, Dan had the nozzle and was on his way into the building.”

“And you were how far behind him?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Four, five steps. He was at the door.”

Collier had long legs; his stride was easily over a yard. “And then what?”

“He started in, then I heard the gunshot.”

“You knew right off what it was?”

“I reacted more from reflex at first. We’ve all been jumpy since Miller’s murder,” he said grimly.

Gary Miller was the first firefighter who’d been killed by the sniper three months ago. “Then you went for Lazano?”

“Yes.” He stared over his shoulder at the warehouse. “The padlock was cut. We didn’t have to use force to open the door.”

She followed his gaze to the door, now open. Terra’s floodlights illuminated the inside of the big concrete cave.

So the sniper had time to aim for the best shot while Lazano took those two heartbeats to open the door. Kiley scribbled the note in her notebook. “How long before you heard the shot?”

“I’d guess maybe two seconds, three. It was quick.”

“Did you work the scene where Miller was killed?”

“No, but I was there.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I heard the call and went by. Turned out they needed another pair of hands so I stayed for a while. Don’t you cops do that?”

Yes, they did. “Do you remember seeing anyone hanging around that night? Anyone you might’ve noticed here, as well?”

“No.” He thought for a moment. “There may have been people walking or driving by tonight, but I didn’t see a thing besides that stupid cat.”

“Okay.” Kiley glanced over at the victim, now being transferred into a body bag. “How long did you know Dan Lazano?”

“Twelve years. We went through firefighter academy together, then he was assigned to Station Two about five years ago.”

A tightness in his voice made Kiley switch her focus to him. “Were you friends?”

In the glaring, smoke-hazed air, she thought she saw his mouth tighten. “Not really.”

Was there resentment under his words? “Enemies?”

“Not exactly. We had a tug-of-war going on over the nozzle.”

“About who would get it first?”

He nodded.

“Know anyone who would want to hurt him?”

Collier’s gaze bored right through her. “No, but you’ll probably hear different.”

“Okay,” she said expectantly. At five-nine, Kiley didn’t have to look up to very many men, but she did with the six-foot-plus firefighter. A tiny sliver of awareness shimmied up her spine. What was it about this man? She dismissed the giddiness he put in her stomach, but allowed herself to search his eyes. She saw a rawness there before he shuttered them against her. What was he not telling her?

Oh, yeah, she was really getting somewhere with this guy. “McClain—”

“Lazano and I were friends once.” He glanced away, clearly reluctant to talk.

“It’s better if I hear it from you.”

He stepped closer, the odor of smoke swirling around her. “He and my fiancée were—” He broke off and dragged a hand down his smoke-buffed face. “I found them together.”

She drew in a sharp breath. That was brutal. Now she understood the emotion that had flashed through his eyes, and her chest tightened. She really didn’t want to continue this line of questioning, but she had to do her job. “So you had a reason to hate him.”

“But not kill him.”

“Your fiancée cheated on you with one of your friends.” Kiley could only imagine the pain. “If my ex took up with one of my friends, I couldn’t find it that easy to forgive.”

“Not forgiving is a long way from murder, Detective.”

“Not to some people.” Just because Collier had broken his engagement didn’t mean he wasn’t still in love with his ex. And maybe angry and hurt enough to kill the man who’d betrayed their friendship.

Anything was possible and he could’ve hired a sniper and been here to fight the fire, but Kiley had a good sense of people. Collier McClain didn’t seem to be the kind of man who would hire someone else to take care of his problems. He would do it himself, face-to-face. The fact that he could’ve easily been the one killed tonight also helped in settling her questions about his involvement. Once she checked his alibis for the nights of the other murders, she could probably mark him off her suspect list officially.

A glance over her shoulder showed Terra stepping inside the warehouse, but Kiley had more questions. She looked back at her witness. “I may need to talk to you again later.”

“I’ll be around.” He tucked his helmet under his arm and tunneled a hand through his short, wet hair.

Annoyed at the way his cool voice knotted her nerves, she moved over to Pitts and Foster, the safety crew who had been sent by Captain Sandusky to talk to her.

She needed to put aside her personal feelings. The memory of that dance, the feel of Collier’s large hand curled warmly on her hip, the hard length of his body against hers. She had a job to do and she would focus on that. Looking for commonalities between the victims had Kiley asking the same questions she had asked at the other three murder scenes.

Did tonight’s victim socialize off duty with any of the others? Did he go to the same doctor or church with the other victims? High school or college? Had he been involved in a side business with any of the victims? Again all answers were no.

About thirty minutes later, she joined Terra outside the front door of the warehouse where the fire investigator again stood talking to Collier McClain. Three firefighters had backed up his story about the cat as well as vouching for him on the other nights in question.

And the firefighters she’d interviewed had confirmed that he and Lazano did have an ongoing rivalry regarding who would get the nozzle first.

“The structure is secure enough for us to go inside,” Terra said when Kiley reached her. “It’s lucky the next warehouse is at least three hundred feet away or this whole side of the street might’ve gone up.”

It appeared this fire, like the others, had been set to lure the firefighters here and kill one of them, but they needed proof. “Did you see anything that hinted at arson?”

“Not yet. The window was blown out from the inside, probably from heat, but that doesn’t mean we’re looking at arson.” She glanced at Kiley’s feet. “Good, you have on some of our boots. You need a helmet, too.”

“Is there falling debris?”

“We want to be prepared.”

Kiley took a helmet from the firefighter who held one out at Terra’s request and slid it onto her head.

Collier McClain stood silently to the side. He had cleaned the ash from his face, but there was strain around his gray-green eyes and the same guardedness she hoped he saw in her eyes. She shut off further thoughts of him and followed Terra inside the cavernous concrete and metal building. It smelled of burned coffee, wet ash and the searing odor of charred insulation and chemicals. Light glanced off white burlap bags of coffee stacked on row after row of wooden pallets.

Strong light streamed from the portable floodlamps, and Kiley stopped, taking a quick look around the soaked floor, wet wooden pallets stacked with now-sopping white bags of coffee.

“I bagged the padlock so we can check it for prints.”

Startled to hear McClain’s voice, Kiley spun. “What are you doing?”

He frowned. “Going through the building.”

“Why?”

“He’s my new fire investigator,” Terra said absently. “You know he’s been working with me on his days off. For about the last year and a half.”

“Yes, but he fought this fire.” She looked away from his level gaze, wishing she’d had a little warning about his more significant involvement in the investigation. She’d known their working together would happen eventually, but she wasn’t ready. “How can he investigate and work the scene as a firefighter?”

“It’s happened before. Besides, this is his last shift. When he reports to work on Monday, it will be for me.”

Kiley knew displeasure and sheer panic showed on her face.

“What’s going on, Kiley?” Terra looked slightly irritated.

“I…just didn’t expect him to also investigate.”

“Is he a suspect?” Collier asked tightly.

“No.” Curling her hands into fists at her sides, her gaze shot to Terra. “This isn’t a conflict of interest?”

“No.” The other woman glanced at Collier then back at Kiley.

“Can you handle it, Detective?” His smoke-roughened voice challenged her.

She wasn’t about to let him see how off balance she really felt. She flashed a smile at Terra. “Let’s go. I’ll try to keep up.”

“Whew, good. I’m going on maternity leave in two weeks. I want Collier to know everything I know about this scene.”

“Is he going to take over this case?” Had she just squeaked?

“Unless we clear it before I have this baby, and I don’t foresee that. So, you’ll have to partner up.”

Kiley gave a forced smile, avoiding Collier’s gaze.

“Let’s get started, then,” Terra said.

The three of them began a slow walk, sloshing through dark water, with Collier beside Terra and Kiley slightly behind. Her eyes narrowed on his broad shoulders. Collier McClain wasn’t just Presley’s newest fire investigator, and her partner for the time being. He was the one man she’d sworn to avoid like the Ebola virus.




Chapter 2


Collier had wanted to be first on the nozzle tonight, but nothing about this call had gone the way he’d wanted. Not what had happened to Lazano. And not seeing Kiley Russell.

Collier hadn’t allowed himself to think about her since that Christmas party at the FOP club. Then tonight, on the second day of the new year, she’d burst in front of him like a firecracker.

In the month since meeting her, he hadn’t forgotten the curve of her hip beneath his palm as they’d danced. Or the warm, spicy fragrance of fresh woman and body heat.

Kiley Russell wasn’t conventionally beautiful like Gwen, but he wasn’t the only man who couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her tangle of red hair hinted at a wildness that was banked in her eyes. Creamy skin and rosy cheeks gave her a fresh-faced appeal that invited people to like her even though Collier sensed that if she decided to seduce a man, those stunning blue-green eyes could knock him clear into next week.

What really had Collier’s internal alarm screaming was the memory of Detective Russell’s laugh. Low and smoky, the sound had grabbed at something deep inside, telling him that his attraction to her was more than physical. He’d managed to bury all that over the holidays, but seeing her now brought the memories bubbling to the surface. Memories he had no intention of giving free rein.

In the year and a half since he’d called off his engagement to Gwen, Collier hadn’t regretted his new no-strings policy with women. He didn’t like that Kiley Russell was the first woman to make him think about breaking it. Liked even less that his thoughts were on her instead of the crime scene in which they stood.

“Since we can’t take measurements of the body’s original position,” Terra said, “we’ll have to rely on the Rapid Intervention Team and any other eyewitness accounts to determine where Lazano fell.”

Kiley stepped up, pointing to a spot in front of the open doorway. “The RIT put Lazano here.”

“That’s right. And so did the attack crew who took over for me and Lazano.” Collier turned, his gaze skipping over the puddles of black water on Benson Street. “The shot came from behind. Probably from that warehouse across the street.”

Kiley made a note in her notebook.

Standing on the edge of the bright light thrown by the portable floodlamps, Collier walked to the bloodstain barely visible on the wet concrete and dictated the location into Terra’s handheld tape recorder.

“I’m surprised all the blood wasn’t washed away,” Kiley observed, following the other woman into the warehouse. “I guess it would be too much to hope we might get some prints off this door? I’m guessing the firefighters probably blasted them off with their hoses.”

“We’re trained to put out the fire, which means we can’t really worry about preserving evidence,” Collier said from behind her. “To put out a blaze, you’ve got to chop holes in the roof, tear down walls, kick out windows plus soak everything in thousands of gallons of water. Even so, we’re trained not to get carried away with our water streams. We douse the flames and make sure they don’t rekindle. And we typically use a wide spray pattern, like a fog. If that doesn’t work, we have to use a small spray, so a straight stream could’ve destroyed that evidence.”

“You’re both assuming there were prints to begin with,” Terra said as they paused shoulder to shoulder in a small huddle.

Kiley slid a look at Collier. “What about the heat? Would it compromise a fingerprint?”

“Prints can be tricky. Most people believe fire destroys all evidence, but that’s not true. It would take hot, hot temperatures to distort or destroy a print. From the condition of the wood pallets, I don’t think the fire burned long enough to get that hot. The door is barely discolored.” He pointed over his head to a steel beam with dark streaks. “None of the steel up there is melted, though it is discolored and marked. The melting point for steel is 2500 degrees.”

“So a twenty-minute fire wouldn’t normally be hot enough or long burning enough to melt the I-beams?”

“Not unless there were flammable liquids or explosives, something to help it along.”

“What accelerant do you think was used?”

“Maybe none. That’s something we need to find out.” He studied the steel beams supporting the apex of the roof. “It doesn’t appear the fire got hot enough or high enough back here to melt the steel.”

“Just some of the aluminum walls.” Terra pointed to some damaged sheeting.

Kiley scribbled in her notebook. “So what does that tell you?”

Terra looked at Collier expectantly, so he said, “That the fire temperature on the walls was less than 660 degrees and that whatever reached the ceiling probably burned less than a thousand.”

The detective nodded and made another note.

“First, we’ll try to confirm or eliminate arson,” Terra explained over her shoulder.

Collier added, “Part of that process will be checking the electrical wiring.”

Kiley resettled her helmet. “So, all we know at this point is that Dan Lazano was murdered.”

“Right,” Collier said. “It was definitely not suicide.” Suicide was one manner of death that had to be eliminated in the course of an investigation. Given he was an eye witness, Collier could do that with confidence. He still couldn’t believe Lazano was dead. And how close he had come to being a victim himself.

“I’m sure you’ve both already taken note that this is our second victim from Station Two.” Terra stopped a few feet away, her pretty features grim. “It’s the first time that’s happened.”

“Since the first two firefighters worked out of different stations,” Collier said, “the connection is not that the victims worked out of the same house. I’ll be interested to see if any of our previous interviews turn up on the list again.”

“Let’s get busy,” Terra interrupted, “and see what we can find.”

“Lead the way,” Kiley said.

To ward off the smoke headache already pulsing at the base of his skull, Collier downed several ibuprofen without water and passed a few to her. She took them and slid them into her pocket. He mentally shrugged. Maybe she didn’t get smoke headaches from tromping around fire scenes.

He flexed his hands inside the pair of stiff gloves Terra had loaned him. At Russell’s request, his well-used gloves, stained with Lazano’s blood, were now bagged as evidence outside with another cop. The three of them worked their way from the least amount of damage to the worst.

Terra snapped pictures from several angles and Collier dictated information about their position and observations into her recorder. In his other hand, he carried a shovel and her tackle box. They stopped frequently, shoveling ashes and debris, searching for evidence.

Over the past eighteen months, he’d built his own tool kit, which included every kind of tool from pliers and tape measures to hacksaws and hammers. For evidence gathering, he carried sterile paint cans, paper and plastic bags and a couple of small jars for liquids. Since he’d been on his last firefighting shift tonight and his new job wasn’t supposed to officially begin until Monday, he was without his kit.

Lazano’s murder had moved up Collier’s start date…and teamed him with a woman he would rather avoid. As a fire investigator, he had the authority to interview and interrogate but not to arrest or serve warrants like Russell did. Because of the policy between the Presley Fire Department and Police Department, he would have to work with Detective Russell until one of them proved the death was an accident or murder. They already knew Lazano’s death hadn’t been a suicide and didn’t believe there was anything accidental about it, so it appeared he would be working with the redhead until they closed these murder cases. Just dandy.

The physical reaction he’d had to Russell during that dance had been warning enough, but combined with the insistent curiosity he felt about her, he had backed way off. And he intended to stay that way.

“I have to hand it to y’all,” Kiley said from behind him. “The amount of patience this takes is incredible.”

Collier shared a look with Terra. She’d had to remind him more than once that investigations took time and patience. He’d had to learn to curb his firefighter’s attack mentality and to carefully, thoroughly, follow the crime trail one step at a time.

He’d wanted to work fire investigations for more than two years, which was why he had readily agreed to apprentice with Terra for no pay. Besides putting him in a good position to nab the promotion to fire investigator when another spot with her office opened up, he’d also taken on the additional and demanding hours as a way to forget about Gwen. And he had.

Another fire investigator hadn’t been approved and budgeted until a few months ago. He’d taken the test, passed his independent assessment and been interviewed by Terra along with another candidate. She had offered the job to him, and the other man had found a job shortly thereafter with Oklahoma City’s fire marshal.

Kiley trailed him through the center of the warehouse, wet grime sucking at her boots. “I remember Terra saying that arsonists typically set fires either for revenge, attention or to hide evidence of another crime. In this case it looks like the fires are being set as bait to attract the firefighters to the scene and kill them.”

Collier turned to her. “I agree.”

“I guess we should consider insurance fraud. If only to show we eliminated that motive.”

“Warehouses are always prime marks for fire insurance fraud,” he admitted.

“It’s possible that one person set the fire for insurance money and that another person murdered Lazano,” Terra offered, rubbing at her lower back again. “But this is too much like the other murders. I think our arsonist and sniper are the same person. And I think we’re dealing with an emotional fire setter as opposed to a pathological one.”

“What’s the difference?” Kiley asked.

“An emotional fire setter strikes out of revenge or hate,” Terra said. “A pathological torch gets off just by setting fires.”

Kiley glanced around the warehouse. “Since we’re dealing with a serial killer who’s using the blaze to bait firefighters, we have an emotional fire setter.”

“It appears that way.” Collier dragged a hand down his face. “So while arson definitely plays a role, we should be looking for someone who has more motive to kill than burn.”

“I think you’re right.” His boss looked as grim as he felt.

Kiley adjusted the too-large helmet on her head. “I’ll check on the warehouse’s insurance policy, anyway, just to cover our bases.”

As they worked their way to the worst burn area, the fire’s origin, Collier documented every step with photos and sketches.

On the east side of the interior, Terra halted in front of him and sniffed the air. “I don’t smell any accelerant. No gasoline, no kerosene, nothing.”

Collier couldn’t smell any, either. Scenting accelerants was a natural ability Terra had that he didn’t, but she had said that didn’t matter. What would make him a good fire investigator wasn’t what he could smell, but what he observed.

Scanning the coffee pallet and metal wall directly in front of him for the “low point” or point of origin, his gaze settled on a blackened circle on the concrete.

Both women walked up beside him. Collier kept his focus on the spot in front of him, concentrating on determining if this fire was arson. Why would a fire start here? There was no heat source, so he could eliminate that the blaze had been accidental. He pointed to a small mound of charred material in the middle of the blackened circle. “This pile of rags is the point of origin. Looks like it may be towels.”

“Let’s take a look at burn patterns on the pallets and coffee bags that burned, the leftover debris here and on the floor, ground, ceiling,” Terra said.

After carefully bagging a fist-size amount of the remaining cloth, he used a small sterile paint can to hold a sample of the charred wooden pallet. Terra took photos of the places where the samples had come from, while Collier indicated the same on the drawing of the fire-sketch layout he’d started for the warehouse.

To be thorough, he also sealed a handful of coffee beans, but he didn’t expect to find that they had absorbed any accelerant. He studied the charred pallet and a ten-inch stretch of black going up the metal wall beside it. He ran a quick test with the portable “sniffer,” a small boxlike instrument that detected carbons like those usually left behind in gasoline or flammable liquids.

Glancing up at Terra, he was aware of Kiley in his peripheral vision. “The readout is negative for any kind of gas or flammable liquids. Right now it looks like the fire started with a match and a bundle of towels.”

“I don’t think the arsonist tried to hide it, either,” his new boss said. “Probably lit this bunch of cloth then waited for the fire alarm to trip.”

“They had probably already scoped out their position across the street.” Kiley glanced toward the front of the building. “And the fire was set close enough to the door for a quick exit.”

“Another sign of arson.” Collier’s stomach tightened at the cold calculation indicated by the scenario they were starting to piece together. Calculation that could’ve killed him this time.

Between that and the redhead behind him, his nerves were stretched taut. He shut the tackle box and rose. “From the obvious placement of the towels, I don’t think the arsonist cares if we figure out how the fire started. The hardest blazes to determine are the ones with a single match and a little thought.”

“All the fires have basically been set in the same way and a rifle used in all four of them.” Terra braced a hand at the small of her back.

“The first fire at the high school gym and this one tonight were started before the shootings,” Kiley observed. “But the fires at the motel and in the victim’s garage were set after the victims were killed. Just to get the firefighters to respond?”

“I’d say yes.”

“Lisa Embry and now Lazano give us two vics from the same station. Miller was with Station Three and Huffman with Four.”

“Going through the first three victims’ shifts at their respective station houses gave us the calls they had in common.” Collier put a new roll of film into his camera. “We’ll check to see if Lazano’s work schedule coincides with theirs.”

“All the murders have occurred within the first week of the month so we should cross-reference those dates with the rescue call dates.” Kiley flipped a page in her notebook. “We still haven’t found anything in the first victim’s background to suggest someone would want to kill him. As for the second victim, we haven’t found the blond woman witnesses say Rex Huffman was last seen with at that motel.”

“What about Lisa Embry’s ex?” The third victim and her husband had gone through a nasty divorce and custody battle. He had ended up with the house and joint custody of the kids.

Kiley’s jaw firmed. “We should talk to him again, ask him where he was tonight.”

Terra picked up the thread. “Kiley and I will continue to work our way down the list of people who have died in fires within the last six months to a year. Or fatalities that occurred when any of these murdered firefighters were on the scene. The killer could be someone who blames the firefighters for the death of a loved one.”

“In the meantime, these guys are a bull’s-eye every time they respond to a call.” Collier couldn’t keep the rage out of his voice. “Just like Russian roulette.”

And he could’ve been one of the victims tonight. The cold knot coiling in his gut was more than nerves. It was a sobering sense of mortality that he hadn’t felt in a lot of years.

“We’ll find this murdering scumbag, Collier,” Terra reassured.

Kiley nodded, watching him with a fierce determination in her eyes and an understanding that made him pause. She pulled her gaze away to stare at the remains of the pallet, wrinkling her nose. “I like coffee, but not that roasted.”

Her remark served to ease the heaviness that had settled over them. Collier smiled and noticed Terra did, too.

“So, how does it work?” Kiley asked. “The towels catch fire, it spreads to a pallet then the coffee bags?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“What about a security alarm? The first patrol officer on the scene said only the fire alarm went off. Why didn’t the security alarm sound?”

“Are we sure they have one?” Collier asked.

“Good question.”

“I imagine they do,” he said, “but we need to make sure. The windows that were shattered were blown outward from heat, not inward as if smashed by someone trying to break in.”

Admiration flared in her eyes. “You’ve picked up a lot, seeing as how you’ve only been able to work with the fire investigator on your days off.”

“After a year and a half,” Terra said, “those days add up. I’m lucky that he wanted the job badly enough to do it.”

“And come Monday, I’ll even get paid for it.” Collier rolled his shoulders against the tautness stretching across his muscles. Russell had a way of looking at him that made him feel as if she were peeling off thin layers of himself that he didn’t want peeled.

He turned away, training his flashlight on the wall of melted aluminum sheeting. He took out his screwdriver and folded back a piece of the warped metal, checking underneath for electrical wires. Even though they believed they’d found the cause of the fire, he would make sure there had been no electrical glitches.

He would like it a lot better if Kiley Russell would move to the other end of the building. Or better yet, leave.

He could feel her behind him and itched to watch her, see how she operated. But he had a job to do and he wasn’t about to screw it up. Especially for a woman.



Kiley had spent the two days since the murder conducting interviews. She, Terra and Collier had split up after the walk-through with the agreement to call each other if they got a lead. Otherwise they would meet at the fire investigator’s office on Monday morning to view the video of the fire scene.

Early Sunday evening, Collier left a message on Kiley’s cell phone while she was asking the owner of Rehn’s warehouse some follow-up questions. He had found something on the videotape of Lazano’s fire scene he thought she and Terra should see.

About an hour after he left the message, she pulled up in front of a quaint rock house and double-checked the address the department secretary had given her. Yes, this charming thirties-style cottage next to an historically registered house was his.

An unfamiliar black Corvette sat at the curb between McClain’s house and his neighbor’s. Terra’s red SUV wasn’t here, and Kiley considered waiting in the car until the other fire investigator arrived. She didn’t relish the idea of being alone with Collier, not now and not in two weeks when Terra went on maternity leave. But staying out here was silly. This was all about the case, and judging from his cool professionalism at the scene the other night, it would stay that way.

She flipped off the ignition, palmed the keys and stepped out of her car. The fat snowflakes that had begun falling while she spoke to the warehouse owner clung to her hair and cheeks as she walked to Collier’s front door.

Whatever McClain had found must be good. For a man whose normal speaking voice was a slow-hands drawl, his words had been crisp and urgent. She wondered if he ever got that hot and bothered over a woman.

Her interviews with the firefighters from Station Two had unearthed some interesting and impressive information about the man who had taken up more of Kiley’s thoughts than she liked. He was a third-generation firefighter and great at his job. He was someone you’d want to lead you into a blaze or watch your back. And until eighteen months ago, he had been engaged to Gwen Hadley, a wealthy, gorgeous blonde Kiley had seen in Oklahoma City’s society pages.

Thanks to Collier, she already knew why he’d broken off the engagement, but his brother firefighters had felt the need to tell her, as well. Her sister, whose job as secretary to the city attorney put her in a position to hear most scuttlebutt, added some bits that Collier and his friends hadn’t shared.

She didn’t blame him for keeping the details to himself. He hadn’t just walked in on his fiancée and his friend kissing. A half-naked Gwen had been wrapped around a half-naked Dan Lazano, and Collier had caught them in the act. The shock and cruelty of such a betrayal made Kiley’s chest hurt.

Standing on his small, protected porch, she stabbed at the doorbell. The night was clear and cold. She shivered under her lined uniform coat.

“Hello?”

A masculine voice sounded behind her, and she whirled. “McClain, you move quieter than anyone—”

She broke off as the man stepped into the wedge of pale-yellow light. He was tall and handsome and not Collier McClain.

A glance back at the large black numbers to the right of the door post confirmed that this was the address she’d been given. “I’m looking for Collier McClain.”

“Just my luck.” The man gave her a flirty smile, startling her with dimples in the exact place she’d seen on Collier. His dark brown hair was mussed, the sleeves of his plaid flannel shirt rolled up. “I’m his brother, Walker.”

“Hello.” She pulled her badge from her coat pocket and showed it to him. “I’m Detective Russell with the Presley PD.”

Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Is this about work or do I need to get him a lawyer?”

She grinned. “It’s about work.”

“He’s inside. C’mon in.” He turned, jamming his hands into the front pockets of his well-worn jeans and hunching his broad shoulders against the cold.

She stepped off the porch and followed him down the sidewalk to the garage. He was as long-legged as his brother. “Do you live here, too?”

“No. I’m helping him put down the floor.”

Ah, that explained the grimy knees of his jeans, and probably the ’Vette. She followed Walker through the garage, struck by the spotless interior. There wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere on the gray painted concrete floor. A shiny white and chrome pickup was the lone vehicle. A row of cabinets lined the wall in front of her, and tools hung in a precise line to the left of where she entered. “I didn’t know McClain had a brother,” she said.

“And a sister.” Walker opened a door in the garage and ushered her inside the house. “How long have you known him?”

The question was mild enough, but Kiley read curiosity in the man’s eyes. Now she could see they were the same dusky green as his brother’s. “Not long. We’re working some cases together.”

“So you’re not here to arrest him?” Laughter marked his words.

“I could probably be persuaded.”

He chuckled as she followed him through a cozy, charming kitchen done in clean white tile and navy stripes. On closer inspection she discovered that what she thought was wallpaper was actually paint. He must have a great decorator.

Modern appliances belied the decades-old charm of the stone house, and window blinds rode up to reveal a winter-brown landscaped backyard. They passed a small room housing the washer and dryer. An old redbone hound with more gray than red on its face lay in front of the dryer. As she walked past, it looked up sleepily, then closed its eyes again.

They walked through a small formal dining room, which her mom would’ve loved, and into a cozy living area where a fire burned in a stone fireplace. Taupe carpet provided a warm counterpoint to the navy-and-burgundy-plaid sofa and two navy leather recliners.

Walker McClain turned to her. “Can I get you something to drink? He’ll be right out.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” If Collier was in such an all-fired hurry to show her what he’d found, where was he? “This house is great.”

“He’s remodeling the whole thing. We put down a new floor in the entryway this afternoon. That’s why I couldn’t let you in the front door. Would you like to see it?”

“Sure.”

They walked back to the small dining room and crossed to the arched opening in the opposite wall. The entryway’s dark red brick was laid in a meticulous herringbone pattern. “Wow. He did this himself?”

Walker’s eyes twinkled. “Well, he helped me do it.”

“Hardly,” Collier said dryly behind them. “You don’t know herringbone from a chicken bone.”

“Whoever did it, it’s beautiful.” She turned, and her words nearly slid back down her throat.

Sweet Saint Christopher. With his bare, muscular chest and low-slung jeans, Collier looked like Mr. July on the city’s firefighter calendar sold to raise money for the new community center. He was Mr. July, she realized with a start. Man, oh, man.

There was something to be said for all the hose dragging and lifting and chopping that firefighters did.

“Sorry to have made you wait, Detective.” His gaze did a slow sweep of her body as he rubbed a towel over his dark, wet head.

“No problem.” He wasn’t wearing socks or shoes, and something about his bare feet made her toes curl. “Your brother kept me entertained.”

Light from an overhead fixture slid across his golden chest. His shoulders and biceps were large, the muscles cut with definition. She’d felt that massive chest before, but she had never seen it. It probably would’ve been better if she hadn’t.

She cleared her throat. “You had something you wanted to show me?”

His brother arched a brow. “Like your etchings? I thought you had better lines.”

Kiley laughed, but a flush warmed her entire body.

Collier grinned good-naturedly. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, bro?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Collier swiped the towel across his chest then draped it over one shoulder. Muscles across his belly flexed with the movement, and the same unwelcome anticipation she’d felt during their dance rose up inside her.

She seriously had to stop looking at him. “Your house is great.”

“Thanks.”

She nodded. He really needed to put on a shirt. Was that a scar just below his navel, peeking over the waistband of his jeans?

From the corner of her eye, she caught a smile on Walker’s face and glanced over.

He slapped Collier on the shoulder. “I’m outta here. Looks like you two have business. Call me when you’re ready to do the hallway floor.” He turned to Kiley, amusement and open curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “Detective, it was nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Maybe so,” she murmured. Doubtful, she thought.

He stepped over to his brother and said in a low voice, “Why can’t you ever leave any for the rest of us?”

“We’re working together,” Collier muttered. “That’s it.”

Oh, yes, Kiley thought. That was so it.

Walker disappeared around the corner with a tuneless whistle. Collier led the way back to the living room. She followed, hearing the garage door close, signaling the departure of his brother.

“Sorry I had to ask you to come here. I’m expecting a delivery from the home store. This’ll be the third time they’ve tried to get my order straight, and I want to make sure it’s right.”

“No problem.”

“You got here fast.”

“Your message sounded important.” She dragged her gaze away from the flex of sinew and muscle, her thoughts going to his disgustingly active and very well-known dating life. Which had no bearing on this case at all. “I’m ready any time you are.”

“Nice to know, Detective.” His voice lowered suggestively.

She arched a brow. “How long before you’re ready, McClain?”

“Let me grab a shirt.”

Please. “Okay.”

The back view had to be as good as the front so she refused to watch him leave the room. He returned wearing a red T-shirt stamped with PFD in faded white letters. The sleeves snugged around hard, sculpted biceps, and she admitted to a little disappointment that his chest was covered.

He glanced at his watch. “I thought Terra would have called me back by now.”

“I don’t mind waiting until she arrives to watch the video.”

“She’s probably on her way. Can I take your coat?”

She shrugged out of it and watched as he hung it in a small closet behind them.

He moved past her to the recliner closest to the sofa and curled his big hands over the back of the chair.

“I—” she started.

“Terra,” he said at the same time. He gave her a crooked smile. “You first.”

“I tried to interview Sherry Vail yesterday, but she’s still away on a business trip.” The former Presley firefighter had been dismissed in disgrace and told she would never work as a firefighter again. After the murder of victim number two, Rex Huffman, Terra and Kiley had learned about a sexual harassment complaint Vail had filed against him, so they’d talked to her back in November.

“When she was fired five months ago, she took a job with a company that sells parts and accessories for firefighting equipment. I think she has to go out of town quite a bit.”

Kiley tucked her hair behind her ear. “I recall that Lazano was one of those called to testify against her at her disciplinary hearing.”

“Yes, just like the other three victims.”

The blonde had ample motive to hate the firefighters from her old station house. Kiley knew the woman’s termination had been justified. Vail had been lazy, frequently absent, undependable at a fire and at different times had filed sexual harassment complaints against two male firefighters who pissed her off.

Collier ran a hand across his nape. “I agree she should still be on our list.”

“I’ll keep trying until I connect with her.” Kiley stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “What were you about to say before I started?”

“Terra told me that the two of you interviewed the coffee warehouse manager and all the employees. The manager said there was a working alarm system.”

“Yes.” Kiley pushed up the sleeves of her dark green sweater, fighting the urge to pace. She could smell the fresh soapy warmth of his skin and couldn’t stop wondering about the line of puckered flesh that disappeared beneath his waistband. She needed to focus. “Their system is computerized, so we were able to get an activity printout from the security company. The alarm was activated last night at closing, just after eleven o’clock, then bypassed at eleven-thirty. They have a backup battery for situations like that, but it was disabled, too.”

“So, we’re talking about someone who knows the warehouse schedule and also how to deal with security systems.”

“Right. And maybe someone who knows electricity in general. Not just some cat burglar who can jimmy open a door.”

“Were any prints lifted from the alarm box?”

“No, no prints anywhere.”

“You’re not still blaming that on the firefighters?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“I checked into the warehouse across the street, the one where you thought the shot came from. It’s for a lightbulb manufacturer. I looked around on the roof and had some uniforms search around the building, but we didn’t find anything.”

Collier nodded.

“We’re running the names of the victims who died during the rescue calls alongside the names of employees of the warehouse to see if we can find any connection.” She paused. “Changing the subject, I heard from some of the firefighters that Lazano used to be involved with our third victim, Lisa Embry.”

“Yeah. That was a while back.”

“The man sure got around. How long ago were they together?”

Collier thought for a minute. “Probably close to five years ago. She was married for four years, and her affair with Lazano ended before she even met her husband. Ex-husband,” he amended. “Lisa and Alan divorced at the end of last summer.”

“I just heard from more than one source that Alan Embry is a possessive, jealous man and harassed Lisa mercilessly until some of you guys paid him a visit.”

“That’s true.” Collier folded his arms over his chest. “Our whole shift threatened to hurt him if he didn’t back off. I wasn’t in on it, but I would’ve been if I hadn’t been at the training center. Embry was really scaring Lisa, actually stalking her. He thought she had hooked up again with Lazano and he made her life miserable. Phone hang ups at all hours of the night, pictures of her undressing slid under her door or stuck in her mailbox. Threats. One time he flattened all her tires, and she couldn’t get to school to pick up her sick kid.”

“So it’s not a stretch to imagine this guy could’ve killed her in her garage and killed Lazano tonight.”

“No, and he was plenty hot about the guys paying him a visit. That could be motive for Miller’s and Huffman’s murders.”

Kiley nodded. “In our interviews with him right after Lisa’s murder, Alan said he had never owned a gun and didn’t know how to shoot.”

“No one’s disputed that so far.” Collier shoved a hand through his hair. “So I’d say we still consider that he hired the murderer.”

“I agree. Since he works for the city as an electrician, he’d certainly have the know-how to screw with a security system. He could get into the building, start a fire and let the sniper do the rest.”

“Yeah, talking to him is definitely on our to-do list.”

“I tried to see him yesterday, but he wasn’t at home or work.” Kiley’s next step was talking to McClain’s ex-fiancée, but she didn’t want him around for that, since his name would likely come up.

She was too aware of the fresh-showered scent of him, the underlying tension between them that went back to that dance at the Christmas party. “I’m anxious to see what you found on the video. Maybe we can watch it now, then again when Terra gets here?”

“All right.” His quick agreement was the first sign she’d had that he might be just as antsy as she was. “You’ve seen the videos of the other fire murder scenes, right?”

“Yes.” Kiley took a seat on the end of the sofa. Across from her, a burning log crackled in the fireplace, and warmth from the flames reached across the floor. The television sat on the adjacent wall, facing the end of the room where Collier stood. “I know y’all video most of your fires.”

He nodded. “We use them to train others in investigation and also to keep the chain of evidence in our control. That way it can’t be tampered with.”

He eased down into the chair closest to her, then picked up the remote and turned on the television and VCR.

The picture flickered to life, and they watched grayish-brown smoke plume out of the side windows of the coffee warehouse. The camera picked up the occasional orange flame shooting through the smoky wall. A firefighter, unrecognizable because of his hood and helmet, rushed forward with the nozzle.

“That’s Lazano,” Collier said quietly.

A second firefighter appeared behind him in the frame. “You?”

“Yeah.” Maybe a second later the sharp crack of a gunshot rang out. Lazano went down.

Collier hit the ground and vanished out of the frame. The shouted “Mayday! Firefighter down!” was muffled but audible. A pair of firefighters—the Rapid Intervention Team—rushed into the picture, bending low then straightening to drag Lazano away from the flames. Another two-man team rushed toward the building with a hose gushing water. There were no more pictures of Collier and the victim.

For several minutes the camera stayed focused on the fire, catching the sounds of thundering water, yelling voices, sirens in the distance. Flames crackled and hissed in the background. The firefighters moved in smooth synchronization. After the blaze was out, the camera panned the perimeter of the building, down the west side of the driveway to the street and across three fire engines.

Kiley wondered what Collier was thinking. Despite what had happened between the two men, watching a brother firefighter die in front of him had to be hard.

He paused the tape. “Right there.”

She leaned forward, studying the frame. “Ladder truck, hoses, hydrant, fireman.”

“Since he isn’t wearing a hood or a helmet, I can see his face. That guy isn’t a firefighter. At least not from here.”

“What?” Kiley dragged her hair over her shoulder with one hand as she scrutinized the screen.

“I know almost every firefighter in Presley, and I’ve never seen this guy.”

“Really?” She got that little head rush she always did when she got a good lead.

“I went back over the tapes from the three previous fire scenes and I didn’t see him in any of them. There’s an unidentified male in the first tape, but Terra already tried to have that enhanced. The tech couldn’t get a clear shot of the person.”

“But we have a clear shot of this guy.” Kiley rose, excited. “This is the first lead we’ve had on this murder, McClain. Good job.”

“All I did was look at the video,” he said wryly, stopping the tape.

“But you picked up on the man. I wouldn’t have. That’s why it’s such a good idea to have guns and hoses working these cases together.”

“Guns and hoses? You’re a piece of work, Russell.” He chuckled at her slang for cops and firefighters as he stood and started into the kitchen. “I’m going to call Terra again. You want something to drink?”

“Sure.” She followed him. “We need to get a photograph made from the video. The police lab can do it if you don’t have the equipment.”

“That’s where I’d take it, too.” Grabbing a cordless phone from its spot on the wall, he punched in a number and waited for several seconds, then hung up. “Still no answer on her cell. I’ll try her house.”

There was no answer there, either.

“Maybe she and Jack are out to dinner.” Kiley traced his steps to the refrigerator, leaning a hip against the counter that butted up to it. “We can show the picture to the other firefighters and anyone else at the scene.”

He nodded, opened the fridge, bent down to grab a cola and handed it to her.

She leaned forward, taking the chilled can. “We’ll need to check mug shots, too. And maybe the enlarged picture will show if the guy has a tattoo or any other distinguishing marks. If he does, we can have Crime Analysis check the field interview cards for any matching descriptions.”

“I’ll touch base with all the station houses and see if anyone has reported any stolen gear.” Collier straightened and stepped away from the fridge at the same time she popped the top on her soda can. His elbow banged her forearm, jostling her drink.

They both grabbed for the can, their combined grips crushing the tin and spewing soda all over her front and down her arm.

Collier quickly reached behind her and tossed her a towel. “Sorry.”

“No problem. I was in the way.” She blotted the front of her sweater then the sleeve and her hand. Facing the sink, she set down the towel and her drink, then turned on the faucet and put her sticky hands under the water.

“You missed some.”

“Where—” She broke off, jolted by the sudden feel of his big hand settling hotly on her hip. He reached toward her with the towel. With one knuckle, he angled her head and dabbed at the underside of her jaw.

She froze. They hadn’t been this close since the FOP Christmas party. She could feel the heat of his body and his subtle woodsy scent drift into her lungs. His lean thigh brushed hers, but it was the hand on her hip that shocked all her nerve endings. His fingers splayed low on her back, right where her hip curved into her bottom. He’d held her the same way while they danced. The memory was so vivid she could almost feel the provocative friction of his body moving against hers.

“Got it.” His voice curled around her with just an edge of seduction.

The low, sexy drawl was the same she’d heard that night, too. And her body did that same melt-in-the-center thing. The realization forced some energy through her dazed limbs. She turned off the faucet and plucked the towel out of his hand, drying her hands as she walked away. “Thanks.”

No way was she going all soft around him. She didn’t care how good he sounded. Or looked. Or felt.

Just then the phone rang. Collier crossed to the wall and picked it up. His side of the conversation consisted of “oh” and “yeah” and “okay.” She tried to read his face and determine if he was talking about the case.

In a few moments he hung up, his features tight and grim. “That was Jack Spencer, Terra’s husband. She’s in the hospital.”

Apprehension started a low drumbeat inside her. “Don’t tell me.”

“She’s having her baby.”

“Now?” Kiley squeaked.

“Now.”

She saw the realization in his eyes the same time it hit her. Now only the two of them would be working this investigation.

“Oh, great,” they said in unison.




Chapter 3


On Monday afternoon Collier left the fire investigator’s office early to attend Dan Lazano’s wake. Not just out of obligation to a fellow firefighter, but also because he had come darn close to being in that casket himself.

Lazano’s parents hosted the gathering at their modest brick home in northwest Oklahoma City. Collier stepped through the front door and scanned the people overflowing from the spacious living room into the dining room. He managed to make his way through the throng of firefighters, paramedics and city officials to Tony and Simone Lazano and offer his condolences on the loss of their son.

Collier might have resented Dan for what he and Gwen had done, but he hadn’t hated the guy. Not anymore, despite what Kiley Russell thought.

Thinking about his curvy new partner lit off a spark of irritation. Partnering up with her gnawed at him, but he figured it gnawed at her just as much. He’d seen that flare of panic in her eyes last night when he’d delivered the news about Terra having her baby before either of them had expected her to.

He wanted to believe it was the challenge of Kiley’s back-off attitude that put a kick in his blood, but everything about her from that sexy tangle of red hair to those luscious long legs charged him up. If she were any other woman, he would take her to bed and get her out of his system, but the redhead set off high-powered warnings in his head, and he’d learned the hard way to listen.

If he’d paid attention to those doubts about Gwen, things between them would never have gone as far as they had. Or gotten so ugly.

At a table draped with a white cloth, on the far wall of the dining room, he filled a cup of coffee and turned, searching the crowd. Shelby Fox, a former station mate, raised her cup, and he nodded at the slender brunette. A flash of red hair behind her caught his attention, and his eyes narrowed as Detective Russell let herself in the front door, then spoke to an older gentleman standing nearby.

She sure didn’t let any grass grow under her feet. No doubt she was here to work the crowd, see if she could learn anything about Lazano. The fact that she was doing her job shouldn’t have irritated Collier, but it did. And when she shrugged out of her heavy black coat and revealed the simple black dress beneath, his irritation edged into something else. Something hot and reckless.

Her hair was down today but pulled away from her face, the thick mass brushing her shoulders. It was the dress that had his grip tightening on the delicate china cup. The soft-looking, midnight fabric skimmed over every curve, accentuating her full breasts and trim waist. The hem fell just below her knees, and the legs encased in sheer black hose were the best Collier had ever seen. He couldn’t resist mentally following the line back up beneath her dress.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered, gulping at his coffee, then wincing when he burned his tongue.

“Pretty hot stuff, McClain.” Shelby Fox had made her way over and stood at his elbow.

“Huh?” There was no way she could’ve known he was looking at—lusting after—Kiley Russell.

She gave him an odd smile. “The coffee? I blistered my mouth a minute ago.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He’d already established he wanted Kiley Russell, but why did his chest always tighten when he saw her? Just like it had the night they’d danced at the Christmas party. He didn’t know, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to figure it out.

“Word is you could’ve been the one to buy the farm instead of Lazano,” Shelby said soberly.

“Yeah. It was too close.”

“Glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

They sipped their hot drinks and spoke to other firefighters who stopped at the table for coffee or tea and sandwiches that had been cut into quarters.

Shelby reached across the table behind him and plopped a sugar cube into her cup. “How’s your first day on the new job, Investigator McClain?”

“I’ve spent most of it doing paperwork for the Personnel Department.”

The brunette shifted to make room for Jerry French, a veteran firefighter from Station One. “Anything on that warehouse fire yet, or any leads on Lazano’s murder?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

French jerked at his tie. “You got thrown right into the middle of a big humdinger, didn’t you? You been up to the hospital yet to see Terra and her baby girl?”

“I went early this morning,” Collier said. “But she was asleep and so was Jack. I’ll try again later.”

“Did she have to have a C-section?” Shelby asked. “One of the guys was talking about it.”

Collier nodded. “I think it took her and Jack by surprise, but I heard everyone was doing well.”

Talking about Terra reminded him of his new partner, but he didn’t see Kiley anywhere. Where had she gone? That instant last night when he’d had his hand on her shot through his memory. As much as he hated it, he wasn’t going to lie to himself about the electricity that arced between them. They struck sparks off each other, and he wanted to find out just how long they would burn, but he knew better than to explore it.

Something about Kiley warned him that she wouldn’t be that easy to walk away from. And walking away from women was what he did ever since his engagement to Gwen Hadley had gone to hell. He’d bought into the true-love thing once, and he was done. For good.

The detective’s wariness around him said she had learned the same hard lesson. He wasn’t going to follow up on the slow sizzle that had started in his blood the minute he’d held her at that Christmas dance. And he instinctively knew she wouldn’t, either.

They could work together and get the job done, then go their separate ways. Her slightly awkward manner the night before at his house was proof she wanted the same thing.

They were both professionals. Regardless of the searing current that seemed to zap him whenever he was within a foot of the red-haired detective, Collier intended to do his job. He wanted to make a good impression, especially on his first solo case. All he had to do was concentrate on the investigation, and that annoying awareness he felt around Kiley would disappear. Pretty soon he wouldn’t feel anything different for her than he felt for any other co-worker.

“I didn’t know if she’d be here or not,” Shelby murmured.

Collier followed her gaze across the living room and saw Gwen, who spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Lazano before she melted into the crowd. “Why not?”

“She and Dan broke things off about two weeks ago.”

He nodded. He’d heard about Dan and Gwen’s breakup, but the other firefighters didn’t often discuss the pair around him.

“Lazano couldn’t take her drinking anymore,” Shelby said.

Collier gave her a sharp look. “Had it gotten that bad?”

“That’s what I heard.”

He probed the crowded room for Kiley, wondering who she was talking to, if she had learned anything new about Lazano. His gaze shifted back to the corner he’d just scanned.

She stood there huddled next to a coat closet talking to Gwen. She hadn’t told him she planned to interview his ex, but he could tell by the intent way she listened that interviewing was exactly what she was doing. And she’d left him out of the loop. No doubt his name had come up at least once. The whole idea of the two women talking about him made Collier queasy. He started for them, wondering who had identified Gwen to Kiley as his ex.

As he walked up, he heard Kiley say, “Thanks for your time. If I have any other questions, I’ll be in touch.”

“We’ll probably both be in touch,” he said as much for her benefit as Gwen’s.

His ex pivoted to face him. “Oh, Collier. Hello.”

Her greeting was subdued, as was her makeup and clothing. Subdued for Gwen, anyway. She was pale, her brown eyes red and swollen from crying. The black, long-sleeved sheath she wore could’ve been painted on her slender frame. Next to Kiley Russell’s vibrant coloring and personality, his former fiancée seemed almost bland.

He had expected to feel at least a twinge of his old anger toward the blonde, but instead he felt sorry for her. She looked uncertain and troubled.

“Why would you need to talk to me, too?” she asked.

“I just transferred into the fire investigator’s office.”

“I didn’t know.” She stepped closer, her gaze locked on his.

He shifted back until his heel bumped the wall. “This is my first official case.”

“I thought the police investigated mur—things like this.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

“Since this was a murder at a fire scene, the police and fire departments work together.” He gave Kiley a pointed look over Gwen’s head.

His ex nodded, though Collier wasn’t sure she really registered his words. Kiley stood quietly to the side, studying him with the intensity of a bird dog on point.

Gwen crumpled her tissue into a ball. “This is just awful, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

She reached out and touched his arm. “Can we talk later?”

“About Lazano?”

“No.”

The plea in her eyes said she wanted to talk about them, but they were finished. He’d never felt it with such finality. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wasn’t interested. “If you think of anything else about Lazano, we need to know.”

Gwen’s face crumpled and tears welled in her eyes. “Collier, I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Feeling caged, he pulled a handkerchief out of his suit coat and pressed it into her hand. “This is a bad day for everyone. Don’t beat yourself up, Gwen.”

He turned and caught Shelby’s eye, motioning her over. “Let Shelby take you to your car.”

Gwen studied him for a moment, resignation finally crossing her features. She turned to Kiley. “I hope I helped.”

“You did. Thanks.” Kiley smiled.

Collier watched as Shelby guided Gwen through the crowd and toward the front door. From the corner of his eye, he caught Kiley moving away, too.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” He snagged her elbow and pulled her back.

“Watch it, McClain.”

“You watch it,” he said in a low voice, turning so he could block her escape with his body. “Leaving me out of the loop like that could be construed as breaking procedure. Why did you do it?”

“I’m in the clear on this.” She pulled away from his hold, though she stayed with her back pressed against the wall. “I figured your name would come up when I talked to your ex. She was more likely to give me honest answers without you around.”

Someone squeezed behind him, and he leaned closer to her, teased by her soft scent. “So what did Gwen tell you? And don’t leave anything out.”

“I think she’s still hung up on you.”

Collier rubbed the nape of his neck. “She’s just confused. Why interview her here, anyway?”

“I tried to talk to her last night, but she only returned a few hours ago from a ski trip in Colorado. She agreed to talk to me here.”

“So, she knew about Lazano’s murder?”

“Her mom called and told her.” Kiley watched him carefully.

“Did you ask her about the last time she saw him?”

“She said it was two weeks ago, the night they called it quits.”

“You sound skeptical.”

“I’m wondering if her memory’s reliable. She told me she has a drinking problem.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think?” Kiley pressed. “Is she reliable?”

“I don’t know. She was at one time.”

She paused, her blue-green eyes meeting his. “Were you ever going to tell me your ex-fiancée’s name?”

“If you’d asked me, I would have.” He hadn’t wanted to tell her as much as he already had. “Does knowing who she is have anything to do with our investigation, Detective?” He lowered his voice, trying to rattle her. “Or are you asking for personal reasons?”

He was surprised to see a dull flush color her cheeks.

She shrugged. “Just connecting the dots.”

“You obviously would’ve figured it out when you learned she was Lazano’s ex, too.”

“I realize his murder is even more personal to you than the others because of Miss Hadley. Are you going to have a problem working this case?”

“It’s not like there’s any choice.” He wanted her to shut up about this whole thread of conversation. “Terra’s out on maternity leave. It’s you and me. The end.”

“So you can put aside your personal feel—”

“Yes,” he bit out. Collier’s usually even temper spiked. “If there’s a screw up, Russell, it won’t be because of me.”

She searched his eyes, then nodded. “Okay. Well, I want to check Gwen’s alibi for the night Lazano was killed and make sure she was really in Colorado like she said.”

“I can make some calls.”

“I will.”

“You can’t cut me out of everything.”

She eyed him coolly. “All right, you do it.”

“Done.” He wondered if things would always be so prickly with her. “On the way here, I stopped at each station house to show the picture of the fake firefighter.”

“Wow, the lab got to that really fast.”

He nodded. “Your copy is in my truck.”

“Did anyone recognize the guy?”

“No. Station One did tell me that some of their gear turned up missing in late September.”

“So that would coincide with when these fire murders started. Too bad we can’t find Mr. Fake in any of the earlier fire scene videos.” She brushed her hair over her shoulder.

Just once he’d like to get his hands in those red curls. “I can give you that photo print before we leave.”

“Great. Want to meet me outside in about fifteen minutes?”

“It’s a date,” he said.

“No—”

“Figure of speech, Russell. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Her eyes flashed. “You’re safe, McClain. Completely safe.”

He watched her walk away, totally hypnotized by the length of those legs and tried to remember why safe was what he wanted.



About seven-thirty the next evening, Kiley walked through the glass doors of Presley’s two-story community center. She’d been ordered by Lt. Hager to attend tonight’s dedication and grand unveiling of the new facility.

Though not fancy, the gray tiled floors were tasteful, as were the faux marble walls. The lobby stretched the length of the rectangular shaped building. Hallways on either side led to several rooms that would serve as meeting places for city employees as well as citizens’ events. The upper floor provided more space. Four sets of doors ahead of her opened into the large all-purpose room being used for tonight’s dedication.

After leaving her coat with a volunteer, she stepped through the nearest set of doors and took in the expansive area decorated with streamers and blue, white and gold balloons. A wooden stage centered at the opposite end of the room held a five-member band tuning their instruments. A cash bar was set up in the corner close to the stage.

The mayor, various city councilmen and women, and other city leaders strolled around. Kiley glimpsed the governor deep in conversation with Chief of Police Nick Smith. She spoke to several police officers who had shown up because they’d gotten the same memo she had from Lt. Hager. As she moved through the crowd, she recognized a few firefighters, too. All the men were dressed in suits or uniforms. The women sparkled in dressy, after-five attire. A tall blonde in a tight, black sequined dress cut down to there caught Kiley’s attention.

She had to look twice to make sure the woman wasn’t Gwen Hadley. The relief she felt reminded her of the earlier meeting with Collier’s former fiancée. Kiley typically didn’t feel out of her league with either men or women, but standing next to Gwen at that wake had made her feel invisible. The woman had flawless skin and a flawless figure, but she obviously had her share of problems, too. Kiley felt more sure of herself now, but she was still less steady than she liked around Presley’s newest fire investigator.

It was because of the emotion she’d seen in his eyes yesterday as he’d talked to his ex. The momentary flash of old hurt on his face had tapped at something deep inside Kiley. Gwen had made it clear she wanted to talk to Collier in private, but he had kindly refused. He’d probably been more kind than Kiley would’ve been if their roles were reversed.

The image of a solicitous Collier McClain certainly didn’t match that of the footloose bachelor she had heard about or seen at the Christmas dance. She told herself to forget about that emotion in his eyes, but for a brief period, she’d glimpsed the man. Not the fire investigator or the reputed Romeo, but a man who’d been hurt by a woman. She pushed away the thought. Emotions—his and hers—came a distant second to the business she needed to conduct with Collier. And business was all she cared about.

They had gotten no identification from the photo of the fake fireman, and they had spent the morning looking at mugshots. No luck there, either. They had begun sending e-mails and faxes to a list of surrounding prisons in Oklahoma, Texas and Louisiana, asking if any of them had recently released an arsonist.

Kiley’s afternoon had been taken up in court waiting to testify on a burglary arrest, and Collier had offered to finish sending the queries to the prisons. She hadn’t heard from him since before lunch when he’d told her Gwen Hadley’s alibi was solid. She wondered if he had learned anything new.

She expected he would be at tonight’s dedication, representing the fire investigator’s office in Terra’s absence. After Kiley spoke to Chief Smith and exchanged a few words with Lt. Hager and his wife, she made her way to the cash bar and ordered a ginger ale.

Despite the freezing temperatures outdoors and the veed back of her dress, the crowd of people inside kept her more than warm. It didn’t take long to spot Collier dancing in the center of the carpeted room. He wasn’t the tallest man here, so why had her gaze gone straight to him as if reeled there?

She should go ask him if he had any new information, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand near the stream of women who kept asking him to dance. In a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and muted red tie, he looked distinguished and commanding. He was clean shaven, the overhead light blunting the sharp angles of his jaw-and cheekbones, and still his appearance was rugged. She’d thought him blatantly male in his turnout gear, but the effect tonight was devastating. She could appreciate a gorgeous man even if she didn’t want him.

Recalling the bare chest she’d seen at his house, she knew the broad shoulders beneath that jacket were every bit real and not an illusion created by good tailoring.

Kiley hated these types of events, where she had to dress to the nines and schmooze with city officials. She would much rather be talking to the residents of Presley, for whom this center had been built, but Collier looked at ease as he chatted with members of city government who danced past him.

Watching him move on and off the dance floor with obscene regularity, Kiley saw no trace of the wounded man from yesterday. Just the heartbreaker she’d heard about, the one she planned to avoid. As a high-tempo dance song ended, he escorted Shelby Fox off the floor, and the pair joined a group in a corner that included Kiley’s sister, Kristin.

Deciding she’d rather talk to him in a crowd as opposed to alone, Kiley made her way toward the corner. She recognized Clay Jessup, the lanky cop who stood between her sister and Shelby, but the man to her sister’s left was unfamiliar. Kristin’s hair was the same dark gold as their mother’s, with enough wave to coax it into whatever style she wanted. Tonight she wore it down and loose, just as Kiley did. The fluttery white blouse she had paired with Kiley’s long black satin skirt was as dressy as the bronze knee-length dress Kiley had chosen.

More than one guy had asked Kristin to dance, but Kiley noted Collier hadn’t. Probably because he’d been too busy dancing with everyone else.

She walked up to the edge of the group, and her sister smiled. “Hi, Ki.”

“Hello.”

Kristin pulled her into the circle. “Does everyone know my sister?”

“Hey, Russell.” Clay Jessup smiled and Shelby waved.

Kiley and Clay had gone through the police academy together, and she knew Shelby because the woman was one of Clay’s closest friends. Kristin introduced Trey Vance, a computer technician from her office.

Kiley felt Collier’s gaze burning her skin and finally met his eyes. “Hello, McClain.”

“Detective.” His gaze skated over her body, and reaction clenched her belly.

Why, why, why did she have to feel anything? Determined to ignore the drumming pull of awareness she felt, she started to move next to him and ask if they’d had any responses yet from the prisons. Someone tapped on the microphone situated on the small stage a few feet away, and she paused.

After a few seconds of screeching feedback, Mayor Griffin greeted everyone and encouraged applause for the band as its members left the stage for a break. The mayor then invited everyone’s attention to the newly completed building and this spacious room, which would host community events such as senior citizen exercise classes or the citizens’ police academy.

The shiny wooden stage steps were trimmed with the same blue-and-gray flecked carpet that covered the floor and complemented the blue walls. The large space, which could be partitioned off to make four rooms, sparkled with the shine of newness. After a few moments the mayor introduced everyone who had worked on the community center’s planning committee.

When he introduced prominent criminal defense attorney Raye Ballinger, Trey Vance said, loud enough for their small circle, “I can’t believe they let her serve on the committee. The best thing the ‘Ball Basher’ could do for Presley would be to leave.”

Mayor Griffin turned the program over to Raye for her comments, and Kiley grimaced, unsure about what to expect from the woman. She’d had dealings with the dogged attorney in court.

Raye Ballinger was dressed to kill in a dramatic off-the-shoulder black-and-white gown with black elbow-length gloves. Her blond hair was piled atop her head; light caught the sparkling necklace and matching earrings she wore. From what Kiley had heard, the attorney earned enough to afford real diamonds.

“The city probably paid for those earrings and that necklace,” Kristin said behind her.

“We’re probably still paying.” Trey’s voice was low. “You know, her brother committed suicide several months back. Everyone expected her to sue the city, and sure enough, she instigated a lawsuit last month.”

Raye Ballinger had also brought a suit against Presley about three years ago for a policeman who said he’d been fired unfairly. She had intimidated every witness she could, and Kiley had the scars to prove it. She hadn’t folded under the lawyer’s sharklike attack, but others had. The woman was relentless to the point of cruelty, and Kiley had never liked her.

It appeared no one in this small circle did, either. Raye had once ripped Kiley to shreds on the witness stand during a rape case. She hated to think what the woman might have done if they’d been alone.

“If that lawsuit gets to court, there’s no justice,” Clay Jessup said to Collier.

Kiley glanced over at the two men. “What happened with her brother?”

“Last spring—April, I think—we got a call about a house fire,” Collier said. “Three stations responded and were able to get to the guy by using the ladder, but as they climbed down, he took a dive. It was Ballinger’s brother.”

“I remember.” She thought back to the coverage, done to the point of saturation, by local television stations as well as Presley’s and Oklahoma City’s newspapers. “It was pretty awful.”

“I guess the scene turned ugly,” Jessup said. “Shelby said Ballinger went ballistic, blaming everyone around.”

“She talked to the mayor right after it happened.” Kristin tucked her hair behind her ear. “But no one heard anything else until she filed the lawsuit.”

Collier shook his head. “I don’t see that she has grounds. Jamie Ballinger tried to kill himself by torching that house, and when that didn’t work, he jumped from the ladder. Everyone did their jobs. There was no negligence.”

“Well,” Clay said. “Skip Dickens was a known drunk with DUIs on record, and she got him reinstated, plus his back pay and a two-million-dollar settlement out of Presley.”

His reminder about the policeman Raye Ballinger had represented came as the lawyer finished her remarks. Applause swelled throughout the large room.

Kiley watched as the woman stepped down from the stage and moved through the crowd, stopping here and there to speak to people. She had a reputation for disliking cops. Evidently, hose draggers were on her list, too.

Clay asked Kristin to dance and the pair moved to the center of the room. Trey and Shelby followed.

“Looks like we’re alone at last,” Collier drawled with a twinkle in his eye that said he knew he made Kiley jumpy.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/debra-cowan/melting-point/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.