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Smoke And Ashes
Danica Winters


Montana's bravest…and hottestWith a mysterious arsonist on the loose in Missoula, fire inspector Kevin Jensen saves more than Heather Sampson's house. The sexy single father rescues her from an abusive marriage—and discovers his own past failures don't have to rule his life.Especially when sparks between him and Heather ignite irresistible desire.But who's the arsonist? Why target Heather? What's his shocking motive? When Heather faces off with him in a brutal attack, she needs her "white knight" as much as he needs her. Both have looked into their souls and risked their broken hearts for each other. Now Kevin will risk his life.









“Are you sure that it’s okay if I stay, Kevin?”


“I can go. I’m sure that I can stay with—” She stopped before she said Brittany. Her only other friend didn’t have a place in her life for Heather’s mess. She had her hands full dealing with the fire at her house. “I can stay at a hotel or something.”

“You’re not staying at a hotel.” Kevin set her bag next to the wall, but his movements were awkward and tight. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

“Kevin, I…Thank you.” She didn’t know what to say. Thank you just didn’t seem like enough when what she really wanted to say was that he was part of the reason she had the strength to leave.

He had shown her there could be more in the world. That there could be something besides heartbreak and the constant thoughts that she could be doing something more to make someone else happy, even if that meant being miserable in her own skin.

Kevin had saved her life and he probably didn’t even realize it.




Smoke and Ashes

Danica Winters







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


DANICA WINTERS is a bestselling author who has won multiple awards for writing books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and occasionally a touch of magic. When she’s not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana testing her patience while she tries to hone her skills at various crafts (quilting, pottery and painting are not her areas of expertise). She always believes the cup is neither half-full nor half-empty, but it better be filled with wine. Visit her website at www.danicawinters.net (http://www.danicawinters.net).


This book is dedicated to those men and women who have lived through the turbulent cycles of abuse. May this book help you find your voice, live your truth and experience the love you desire.

This book would not have been possible without the support from a multitude of firefighters and law enforcement agents, including: Sergeant Ryan Prather, Retired Training Officer Jerome Kahler, and the men and women of the Frenchtown Rural Fire Department. Thank you for taking the time to help answer questions and making sure that events portrayed in this novel were accurate. You make this world a safer place.

A thank-you cannot be complete without thanking Lane Heymont, Denise Zaza and the Harlequin team. Thank you for helping to bring this book to life.


Contents

Cover (#u1bb034d9-ec86-5979-a359-9f1cb6898872)

Introduction (#ufa3310c9-a1c9-5ce0-9262-b3547fd43135)

Title Page (#ufacaa9d2-9900-55cd-a904-5f9459bfb215)

About the Author (#u5facfe1c-7f6e-5817-aed4-188e7ce704a0)

Dedication (#u4b7f2ced-e921-5546-8dae-8f5a7d1a36e0)

Prologue (#ucce5e429-b85b-5298-b76f-a8b0c7459b6c)

Chapter One (#u4eca8332-e96c-5976-afeb-e0b269dc944b)

Chapter Two (#uc291044d-ddc4-5a58-b579-68125909fa2c)

Chapter Three (#uf72f93f2-0dda-57ef-921e-a884017b2145)

Chapter Four (#u314e882d-5971-5b46-8064-a6cfe9966c75)

Chapter Five (#u1a5317a9-1d19-5089-922f-9b32a2978ff8)

Chapter Six (#u379cfdd0-35ba-5459-ab56-bbc1c60c335d)

Chapter Seven (#u79468e51-ce37-5b01-a59d-a838e4d897df)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Prologue (#ulink_4404cedb-a188-5eb2-a9a8-27d6b3a1518d)

He looked down at Heather Sampson as he pulled the matchbox from his pocket. The box dropped from his hand, spilling matches onto her bedroom floor in a heap of deadly promise. Crouching down, he scooped them back into the container, careful to move quietly, afraid that at any second she would awaken and find him standing over her.

Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted, as if she waited for a kiss from her Prince Charming. She should have known better. There was no such thing as Prince Charming. There were only toads and a precious few men like him—men who worked to make everything just.

The sad truth was that there was no justice in marriage—at least not in any of the marriages he had witnessed. No. Marriage was one lie after another. One hurt feeling masked with a fake smile, only to have another lie strip it away. It was an endless cycle of pain.

What was the point? What was it all for?

As far as he could tell, it was for nothing more than ego and some idealistic hope that if they acted happy, if they faked it well enough, maybe they could finally believe it themselves.

He was here to make her a martyr, not that she would understand, but this was his chance to show her and the world what her marriage truly was—nothing more than smoke and ashes. A fire that had yet to burn itself out. But at last the time had come. The hour was here for him to stoke the flames and let them consume every crumb of her failing marriage.

The inferno could have it all.

He walked out of her bedroom and made his way downstairs, where the glorious scent of gasoline filled the space. Unlike the others, Heather’s house would go up in a flash. In one giant fireball the whole charade would be over—the secrets, the lies, the fake smiles and the hurt feelings. It would all be gone and all her pain could be for a higher purpose.

The night air blew into the house, diluting the gas’s perfume. He made sure to leave the door open as he stepped out and walked toward the garage. A puddle of gas sat on the sidewalk, just waiting for him.

He struck the match.

It was so much easier this way.

The fire’s smoke curled skyward, creating a trail that led to the heavens. If he had his way, life would be better and she would be free.


Chapter One (#ulink_661ea7e2-2f7a-5240-8a70-7a8d8f014131)

A few days earlier

The note had been simple. Two little words. Two haunting, terrifying and humbling words. Words that had the power to rip out Heather’s heart.

I’m leaving.

The paper sat on the kitchen counter where David had left it, a glass of water as a paperweight. The condensation on the glass had dripped down, leaving a ring of water. Like her tears, it was long dried, but it would never disappear.

She fought the urge to turn around and leave the kitchen, lunch be damned for the second day in a row, but the pressures of the day and her nagging hunger drove her forward, past the stained note on their newly installed granite countertops to their perfectly polished stainless-steel fridge.

David had been adamant that they have the finest of everything—the finest appliances, the finest table, all the way down to the silk table runner they’d had specially made and shipped from India. Now, in the lifeless kitchen, the bloodred runner made the entire room seem like a picture out of a home decor magazine, but nothing like a home.

None of it had ever really mattered, not when all she was left with was an empty kitchen and anger in her gut.

Opening the fridge, she was met with its cold, stale air. The only contents were a single bottle of Perrier and a half-eaten piece of week-old cheesecake. God, she loved cheesecake. The way it melted on the tongue, leaving behind the luxurious texture of butter. David hated for her to have it, complaining it made her gain weight.

She grabbed the plate and folded back the plastic wrap. David could hate the cake and her all he wanted. He had made it clear he was leaving. If she wanted to eat cake, she could. He wasn’t here to stop her.

Grabbing a fork, she stabbed the tines into the cake and lifted it to her mouth. The scent of cream cheese filled her senses, making her mouth water. David would have hated this defiance.

She threw the fork and the uneaten bite into the sink and dropped the cheesecake, plate and all, into the garbage bin. David would come back. He always came back. And when he did, he would know she had gone against his wishes.

She stared down at the garbage. David would notice the plate was missing from the stack of exactly eight.

She had every right to be angry, but she would pay if he thought she had done something to intentionally upset him.

Reaching into the bin, she retrieved the plate and scraped the cheesecake off the edge. She couldn’t disappoint him no matter how much he disappointed her.

She stood at the sink and washed the plate as she stared outside. There had been so much more that she had wanted to do with her life. When she’d been young she had dreamed of helping people, of being a nurse. She smiled as she thought of her old teddy, Mr. Bear, who’d always stood in for a tragic victim of some terrible accident. She would use Band-Aid after Band-Aid fixing his wounds. Now he sat at the top corner of her closet, a reminder of a path not taken.

Because of David, she had given up everything,

There was a knock on the door and she set the plate in the drying rack. Reality was calling. Grabbing David’s note, she stuffed it into her pocket.

There was another knock, this time harder, more urgent.

“Coming.” She made her way out to the living room.

Looking in through the window in the door was her neighbor Kevin. He smiled and his eyes lit up as he saw her. As he moved, his sexy, prematurely graying hair sparkled in the sunshine. Heather tried not to notice the wiggle of excitement she felt at seeing him.

She opened the door. “How’s it going?”

“Great, but I need your help,” Kevin said. “I just got called to work. Do you think you could keep Lindsay for a while?” He pushed his daughter out from behind his legs.

Lindsay clutched the straps of her pink backpack. “Hi, Mrs. Sampson.”

“Hi, sweetheart. Why don’t you come in?” Heather dropped her hand onto the girl’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here. I got a bunch of new craft supplies. There’s a new bracelet designing kit you’ll love. And I needed a friend today.”

“Awesome!” Lindsay beamed.

“Thank you so much, Heather. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Kevin reached out. “Lindsay, can I get a hug before I go?”

Lindsay threw herself into her father’s arms. Kevin closed his eyes and squeezed her as if no one was watching. “Love you, honey. Be good, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Lindsay let go.

“Don’t forget you have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in your backpack if you need a snack.”

Lindsay nodded.

Kevin turned to leave and Heather couldn’t help but glance down at his black uniform pants. As he moved, they seemed to hug the muscular shape of his body. Warmth rushed through her.

“Wait,” she called out to him, hoping to see his handsome, slightly mischievous grin one more time. “Where’s Colter?”

He looked back and the grin reappeared, making the heat in her core intensify. “He had baseball this afternoon. He should be done in time for the Millers’ barbecue. You going?”

Weeks ago David had promised they would go, but now, with everything that had happened between them, he would never agree.

“I’m not sure.” Heather forced a tight smile.

“I hope you do. It’d be nice to catch up.” Kevin paused. “I’ll be back to pick her up as soon as I can.”

Heather nodded. “No rush.” She needed all the excuses she could get to keep from having to focus on her life, and a nine-year-old girl and her much-too-handsome father were the perfect distractions.

“Thanks!” Kevin rushed off, heading toward his white truck that was emblazoned with the golden words Fire Inspector.

Heather pasted a smile on her face as she closed the door. Everything would be okay. “You ready for some fun, Lindsay?”

“I need to do my homework. It’s due tomorrow.”

“Homework? You only have a few weeks of school left.”

Lindsay shrugged as she sat down in her regular spot on the couch. She took out her worksheets. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“You need me to go over it with you?” Heather silently wished she could help.

“Nah, I got it. Thanks, though.”

Her hope deflated. “Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen. Let me know if you change your mind. When you’re done we can make those bracelets.”

“Okay,” Lindsay said, sounding preoccupied.

Heather walked back into the lifeless kitchen, picked up her cell phone and unlocked the screen. She tapped in David’s phone number and when the phone rang her stomach twisted with nerves. He would pick up, wouldn’t he?

It rang again.

“Why are you calling?” he answered.

“No ‘hello’?” Heather asked, trying to keep her anger from seeping into her voice. “I thought maybe by now—”

“By now what? That I’d want to come back to the house?” David growled. “Listen, Heather. We can’t keep doing this. Did you get my note?”

Her fingers moved to the letter in her pocket. “I did, but I was hoping—”

“What?” he interrupted. “That I didn’t mean it?”

“David, we can work this out. We just need to go to counseling. I would do it for you.” She pulled the note from her pocket and flattened it on the island.

“If we went to counseling that would imply that there’s something to save. At this point, Heather, just seeing you makes me sick.”

Her knees gave out under the weight of his words and she fell onto a barstool. “I’m sorry, David. I didn’t mean—”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Heather. I told you that you weren’t allowed to talk to Andrew anymore. I see the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you. You’re having an affair.” David paused. “Don’t you care how it makes me look that you’re sleeping with another doctor?”

When she’d seen Andrew at the Easter fundraiser for the American Heart Association, he’d been overly friendly—maybe even approaching flirtatious with her—but it had been nothing more than banter. If David hadn’t kept bringing up the incident, she would have forgotten it by now, but David wouldn’t let it go, no matter how much she pleaded.

“I’m not. I never—”

“If you’re not having an affair, then why did I see you talking to him outside the hospital the other day?”

She stared at the wrinkles in his note. “He stopped me. He just wanted to ask about you. I told him you didn’t want me to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Was he trying to find out the next time it was safe to come into our house and screw you?”

Hot, unwelcome tears rolled down her cheeks. “It was nothing like that. He just wanted to know if you’re okay.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing. I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? That I don’t know when someone’s lying to me?”

“I promise. I never lied. Just come home,” Heather said, her voice like that of a trapped animal. “Tonight’s Brittany’s barbecue. Please, you have to go...”

“First you have an affair, and now you want me to come home? You are nothing, Heather. Why would I want to be seen with a woman like you?”

She crumpled his note in her hand. She wasn’t weak...but it was hard not to be crushed when the world around her was collapsing.


Chapter Two (#ulink_c466ad89-8edf-591d-ad49-643037998804)

The windows of the sage-green house were intact, and a basket full of half-dead pink flowers waved lazily in the breeze as Kevin parked his truck. Aside from the flurry of motion and yellow caution tape, it would have been hard to tell this had been the location of an active fire.

Something about the place reminded him of Heather. Maybe it was the way it seemed so perfect, so put together on the outside, but if he looked a little deeper he saw whispers of turmoil within. Yet, with the house, he could open its doors and uncover its secrets, whereas with Heather there were too many things standing in the way—he could never truly know her.

A fire crew milled around the yard as they mopped up the scene, and the battalion chief, Stephen Hiller, was writing something in his notepad. Kevin killed his engine and the BC turned and gave him an acknowledging tip of the head. Hiller’s face was pinched and his eyes tired, as though he was just waiting for him to arrive so his crew could hand off the chain of custody.

On the porch of the neighboring white row house a little boy, his thumb in his mouth, sat in a turquoise patio chair. The boy smiled and waved at him, his chubby arm wiggling.

Something about how the boy’s eyes lit up reminded Kevin of Colter when he’d been younger. Colter used to love waiting on the porch for him to come home. The second he’d arrived, his son would rush down the steps in a hurry to welcome him.

How things had changed.

For the millionth time, he wished he could turn back the clock, but life was fickle and moments fleeting. If he’d only known then what he knew now, he would have run to Colter and scooped him up in his arms and carried him inside to where baby Lindsay had been. He would have spent every spare moment he had with his wife and his perfect little family. Yet, most nights, he had just pat him on the head as he brushed past him on his way toward the fridge and a cold beer.

Allison had hated his routine, the way he was so wrapped up in his job when he’d come home from work. She had never understood how badly he’d needed a moment to wind down, to relax after a crazy day fighting fires. Then again, he had never really understood what it must have been like for her, waiting for someone to come home, only to have him arrive in body but not in mind.

There was no going back.

The little boy’s mother opened the door and hustled the boy inside. After a moment the curtain in their living room shifted slightly as if the woman was watching.

Hiller walked up to the truck and tapped on the window. “Glad to see you could make it, Jensen.”

“Sorry I’m late. I had to find someone to watch Lindsay.” His thoughts moved back to Heather, the way her hair had haloed her face and her jeans had hugged her perfect hips when she’d answered the door.

Hiller nodded, but it was easy to see from the puckered look on his face that he didn’t really understand—or care.

“We’ve been waiting an hour.”

“I’m here now.”

“Next time be quicker about it. Some of us have work to do.”

“What, do you have a girlfriend waiting?” Kevin joked, but Hiller’s face remained motionless. Kevin coughed, trying to dispel some of the tension. “Anyways... Ya wanna fill me in?”

“The crew arrived on scene at 5:03 a.m. I arrived a few minutes after. Fire started on the second floor. They managed to get the homeowner—one Elke Goldstein—out of the house in a matter of minutes.”

“Anyone else in the house at the time of the fire?”

Hiller scanned his notes. “She was the only one. I asked her a few questions, but Ms. Goldstein wasn’t especially forthcoming with information. She seemed relatively unharmed, but was adamant she had to leave.”

“Do you know anything about her? Does she work? Is the house underwater?” There were no for-sale signs in the yard and the grass was well-kept, but it was amazing how good a house could look even when the owner was only a piece of paper away from losing it.

“As far as I know, everything was on the up-and-up, but she didn’t really want to talk to me.”

“Making friends again?”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you’re popular.”

“Why don’t you stop worrying about me and start worrying more about your investigation?”

Kevin chuckled. “You know where Ms. Goldstein went?”

“She said she had to go to work. Someplace called Ruby’s.”

Kevin grabbed his clipboard. “What else can you tell me about the fire?”

“Fire was small. Confined to the second floor. Extinguished quickly. There was a suspicious mark in the upstairs hallway.”

“Was anyone seen running from the scene? Anything suspicious?”

“One of her neighbors...” He pointed to the white house where the boy had been sucking his thumb. “They reported seeing a man leave the house a few minutes before the smoke started.”

“Ms. Goldstein didn’t tell you about him?”

Hiller shook his head. “Not a word.” He handed Kevin a copy of the fire report. “Here’re my notes. I’ve been more than thorough.”

“Great.” He clipped the report in his clipboard.

Hiller turned around to face his crew. “Let’s go, guys. Now this is someone else’s problem.”

“Wait. Leave me a couple of guys. I need them stationed outside the door until I’m done.”

“How long you want to keep the scene intact?”

Chief Larson’s words echoed in his mind—Things are tight, Jensen. We need to cut costs. If he didn’t watch it, he would be getting the ax. But he had to get back to Heather’s to pick up Lindsay, and he had promised Colter he would swing by his baseball practice. Heather would help him, if he needed—she always did—but something in her beautiful, hazel eyes told him that today was one of those days that she needed him. He couldn’t let down her or his kids.

“I’m going to need at least a day or two.”

“Jensen, time costs money—money the city won’t give us. What little we have would be better spent on something other than chasing down a ghost. You know the chance of finding whoever is behind this is slim to none. Don’t waste my time and the taxpayer’s money. Let the insurance company write her a check.”

“I’m trying to save the taxpayer’s money by stopping this from happening again.”

“You haven’t even been in the house yet, Jensen. Who the hell knows? Maybe it was just some kid playing around. Why do you always have to assume the worst?”

“Hoping for the best is a rookie mistake.”

Hiller slammed his fist against the truck. “This is coming out of your budget.”

“No problem,” he lied.

The fire inspector’s budget was closer than a hair on a gnat’s ass every month. If he found adequate evidence of arson, maybe he could convince the chief to cover the cost of keeping the chain of custody going for the next thirty-six hours, but probably nothing more.

“You need to step into line with the rest of the department, Jensen,” Hiller threatened. “It’s been long enough since Allison died. You’re starting to cost us money because of your inability to do your job.”

He cringed. Why did Hiller have to remind him? The weeks and months after Allison’s death, he’d get into the flames and all he’d been able to think about was his wife, sitting in her hospital bed as the chemo burned through her veins.

Three years ago, after Allison’s death, the department had taken him out of the fire and put him in an office chair, but even as fire inspector things weren’t going as they should be. He’d been taking too long on investigations, but he rationalized it by telling himself that he was holding his responsibilities to a higher standard than his predecessor—a senior firefighter who had been happy playing by the unwritten rules while he sat back and waited to collect his pension.

“I’ve got this, Hiller.”

“Time is money, Jensen.”

“Do I need to remind you of our motto: protecting lives and saving property? Lives come first, Hiller. Money isn’t even in the equation.”

Hiller glowered at him but said nothing.

“Just give me the men I need.”

Hiller looked out at his crew. “The rookies can stay behind.” He pointed at two twentysomethings that had just been hired. “You guys monitor the house!”

They nodded and walked to the front of the yard.

Hiller turned back to him. “Get this handled. I need my guys. Our work actually makes a difference.” Then he stormed off.

Kevin ignored the retreating cavalry as he looked down at Hiller’s notes. At least he had a description of the man—dark haired, around six feet tall and an average build.

His handset sat in the window, and he stared at it for a moment before deciding to leave it there. He wasn’t a real firefighter; nothing he did was an emergency. As Hiller was more than happy to point out, his job rarely made a difference. He was little more than a glorified desk jockey, filling out paperwork and teaching kids about smoke detectors.

He stepped out of the truck and slipped into his bunker gear and boots, making sure to grab his investigation kit and helmet before he made his way toward the house.

There was less than an hour before Colter’s practice was over. He had to make a pass through the scene and take some notes, but then he could get across town to the high school to catch the tail end. If he hurried, Colter wouldn’t notice he’d been missing. Maybe he would even get a chance to talk to Heather and thank her for her help.

Perhaps he could convince her to come to the barbecue. She always looked beautiful at those things—her naturally tan skin finally exposed after a winter hidden away. Last year, she’d worn her dark hair down. It had looked so soft, so touchable, just like her lips.

Those lips. He’d love to make those lips his.

He laughed at himself. Those lips, just like the rest of her, could never be his.

The only thing he could ever be to her was a friend, and that was only if he hurried.

He made his way around the back of the house, taking pictures every few feet. The door to the garage was unlocked and, as he opened it, the smell of burnt chemicals swirled around him. Thick black residue coated everything, including the woman’s car, but nothing was burned.

On the wooden steps that led to the house, there was a pair of discarded women’s flip-flops and beside them was an oily black shoe print. The print had a star pattern at its center and rectangular squares around the sole’s edges. He snapped a picture. It was probably a leftover of someone walking through the oil slick in the garage while they’d made their way inside. He took a swab of the substance and tagged it as evidence to be sent to the crime lab.

The whole downstairs dripped with water and his footsteps sounded like suction cups as he made his way through the kitchen. The small rectangular room was typical of a low-income home, linoleum on the floor, cheap oak cupboards and an apartment-sized refrigerator.

In the living room, there was black, sticky ash on the walls where the smoke had billowed through the house. A thick layer of oily soot covered every surface making it impossible for him to be able to lift fingerprints.

He followed the smoke pattern up the stairs, and the acrid smell grew stronger. In the center of the hallway, between two bedrooms and in front of the burned-out bathroom, was a black circular pattern.

Another V-shaped pattern started at the floor, and at its center was an electrical outlet. He looked up. The light had melted and it pointed like a finger to the blackened circle.

There was no doubt about it, he’d found his ignition point.

He crouched and wafted the air toward him as he took in a long breath of the oily, dirty smoke. It had a faint chemical smell.

Around the edges of the charred circle was a ring of white powder. He took another picture. Opening his bag, he pulled out an evidence can and scooped some of the white residue into it.

This fire was no accident.

An event like this, one started with chemical oxidizers, wasn’t the work of a novice. This was someone who knew the chemicals required to start a fire. Plus they likely knew most chemical reactions took several minutes to ignite—giving them enough time to flee the scene.

If he had to bet, this was a person who would do it again.

According to the notes, Elke had been in her bedroom at the time of the fire. If the perp had wanted to kill her, they would have built a fire that she couldn’t escape, yet they had kept it small, manageable.

He turned to his clipboard and wrote: Suspect may not have meant to kill victim.

He glanced down at his watch. Fifteen minutes before the end of practice. He was never going to make it to the baseball field in time to see Colter.

He put away his clipboard, labeled the evidence and dropped it into his kit.

The burden his job put on him was fine, but bit by bit and day by day, he could see Colter pulling away. It was even evident in the way his son walked, no longer the fumbling steps of a boy, but the saunter of a young man. Every time Kevin had a call lately, he had watched as Colter used this newfound gait to walk as far away as possible. After today and his broken promise, it would only get worse.


Chapter Three (#ulink_50a76a62-8c7d-55f0-9012-d919dc86cf6c)

David stomped into the house and slammed the door, the sound making Heather jump. The sweat on her palms made her hands stick to the edges of the kitchen counter, and they peeled off with a wet sound as she stood up to greet him.

His dark hair was perfectly shaped and his eyes bright, as if he hadn’t had the same trouble she had sleeping last night. The only thing that gave away his anger was the slight tic of his lip, as though he was holding back a snarl.

“Hi, David,” she said, trying to sound cool and indifferent but failing as fear and desperation crept into her voice.

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t think I came home for you.”

“Are you going to come to the barbecue with me?”

“We’ll both be there. I would hardly say we’re going together.”

Heather glanced over her shoulder toward Lindsay, who was sitting on the couch weaving thread around her bracelet.

“You look like crap,” David said as he walked to the fridge and grabbed the unopened bottle of Perrier.

She closed the door to the kitchen. Lindsay didn’t need to hear anything David had to say right now. She would get the wrong idea. David wasn’t a bad man, just stressed. Stress always brought out the worst in people.

“I should’ve known you would go to seed without me around.” He smirked as he looked at her. “I don’t know what you’re going to do without me.”

His words were like a fist slamming into her gut, but she tried to ignore the pain. She needed to fix this and get him back. She couldn’t let herself fall into the same cycle her mother had—a life built around a husband who only came home when it was convenient and who was more than happy to use her love as a tool to manipulate her. She was better than that.

For a moment her mind moved to Kevin—he had never treated Allison the way David treated her. Yet that was in public. Who knows what happened behind closed doors. Perhaps all marriages were the same—one person always bending to the whims of another for the sake of commitment.

“I don’t understand this, David. I don’t even know where this is coming from.”

“Do I have to remind you about Andrew?”

Heather flicked a glance over her shoulder. “Don’t. Lindsay’s here.”

“You afraid she’s going to find out what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t do anything.” The second the words fell from her lips, she wished she hadn’t spoken back. Her insolence would only make things worse, and she needed him back—she needed to hold her family together.

David glowered. “I don’t care what you say anymore. You’re a liar and a cheat.” He slammed the bottle on the granite countertop so hard Heather couldn’t believe the emerald-green glass hadn’t broken.

She slumped onto the stool as tears welled in her eyes.

David pushed back from her in disgust. “Save the waterworks for someone who gives a damn.” He strode out of the room. “Lindsay, when you grow up don’t be like her,” he said as his heavy, angry footfalls thundered through the living room.

Heather moved to follow him, but stopped in the doorway. Lindsay glanced over at her but looked away when she met her gaze.

Heather wiped away her tears. “Don’t worry, Lindsay.” She tried to smile, but the simple action pained her. “David’s just upset.”

Lindsay just nodded.

“Really.” The lie made her voice quake. “Everything will be okay.”

“Okay, Mrs. Sampson.” It was clear from Lindsay’s averted eyes that there was no way to make her feel better or forget what had happened.

“Can you do me a favor, Lindsay?”

She finally looked up. “What?”

“I don’t know what you heard, but can you please not tell your dad anything? I don’t need him to...” She paused. He had so many things in his life that needed his attention. She couldn’t let him sacrifice his time by helping her to deal with the storm in her personal life. No doubt, this storm would pass, just like the others that had preceded it.

“You don’t need him to what?”

“I don’t want him to worry.”

Lindsay shrugged. “Okay, Mrs. Sampson.”

The pipes clanked as David turned on the shower in the master bathroom.

“How’s the bracelet coming along?”

“Fine.” Lindsay lifted it for her to see. “You know, if you wanted, you could come with me and Dad to the Millers’.”

Heather’s smile came a little easier. “That’s really nice of you, but you don’t need to worry. I’ll have to go up and talk to David, but I would guess that we’re probably going together. Fighting is just what married people do.”

* * *

KEVIN MADE HIS way toward Heather’s house where Lindsay waited. David’s Porsche was in the driveway. Hopefully everything was going okay. Every time he was around, David treated him like the village idiot, and he always wrapped his arm around Heather as if she was some high school conquest rather than his wife.

He had always hated men like that.

There was no reason for two people in a healthy relationship to hover and mistrust one another. When Allison had been alive, he’d never needed to claim her. No. Anytime they had been together it was like they were magnetic. It hadn’t mattered whether they were alone or in a room filled with people, he only saw her.

They had fit.

It was dumb luck he had found such a once-in-a-lifetime love.

Maybe it was stupid of him to compare what he and Allison had to anyone else. Maybe they hadn’t had just a simple once-in-a-lifetime love. Maybe they were soul mates, their love created by the gods.

Either way, he appreciated Allison way more than David seemed to appreciate the special woman he had found in Heather. His neighbor didn’t deserve such a woman—a woman so beautiful that the first time Kevin had met her she’d taken his breath away, a woman who put up with David’s possessiveness, a woman who accepted the hours that a cardiologist worked. Who knew what else she was forced to accept. Bottom line—Heather deserved better. Whether she knew it was another thing.

Regardless, it was none of his business. And he shouldn’t be thinking of his neighbor and his daughter’s babysitter this way. Though, truthfully, she’d been in his thoughts way too often lately.

He parked the truck and walked toward the house. Every bush along the walkway was perfectly shaped into a little sphere—it was like a trail of bombs just waiting to explode.

He knocked on the door.

It creaked open. Heather’s long brunette hair was pulled half up, making her look like one of those models from the Victoria’s Secret catalogs that he kept hidden in his bedroom like a teenager. Quickly he envisioned her in the skimpy lingerie and his gaze drifted to her breasts, but he wrestled his attention away. He hardened at the thought of her undressed.

What was wrong with him today? There were so many other things he needed to be worried about besides how a friend looked naked.

“Hey. I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Something was wrong.

“Lindsay good?”

Heather’s face tightened.

At the sound of his voice, Lindsay poked her head around the corner and smiled. “I gotta grab my backpack.”

He turned back to Heather and looked into the darkness that seemed to fill her hazel eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Really. Just tired,” she said, maybe a little too insistently.

“I appreciate your taking Lindsay, but if you have other things that you need to take care of, I can find something else to do with her. Colter’s sixteen—he could be helping.”

Heather leaned in close. “No teenage boy wants to babysit his sister. I’m sure he has other things on his mind.” Her breath brushed his cheek. He breathed in, trying to control his body, but she smelled like flowers and the scent only made him harder.

“Yeah. Other things on his mind,” he said, stumbling through his words. He tried to take that advice and thought about baseball and who won the 1996 American League pennant.

“Are you okay, Kevin?” Heather frowned.

“Yankees,” he blurted out, trying to look anywhere but at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He leaned in, through the open door, brushing lightly against Heather and her not-to-be-noticed-by-him breasts. “Lindsay, let’s go!”

“Coming!” Lindsay said in a sing-song voice.

David came down the stairs and stopped beside Heather, barely giving her a sideways glance. He smiled. His teeth were straight with long, oversize canines. “Hi, Kev, how’s it going?” He slapped him on the back. “Heading to the Millers’ tonight? It’s going to be a good one.”

“Thought I’d pop in. Probably won’t stay too long.” The lust he had been feeling disappeared as he stared at David’s predatory smile.

“Long day?” David wrapped his arm around Heather, but she seemed to freeze under his touch.

“Brutal.”

When Lindsay made her way to the door, David turned and gave her a warm smile. “Thanks for coming by, hon. Great to have you here keeping the old ball and chain happy.”

Lindsay stared at David, a confused look on her face. “Sure, Dr. Sampson.” She slid past David, giving him plenty of space. “Bye, Mrs. Sampson. See you soon.” She rushed to the car.

From Lindsay’s befuddled look, he couldn’t help wondering what he had missed.

He turned to Heather. “Everything go okay?”

“Of course. Always.” Heather looked to David as though she was checking to make sure she was saying the right thing.

“We have a few things to discuss.” David pushed Heather back and moved to close the door. “Talk to you later, Kev.”

“It’s Kevin.”

David didn’t seem to notice; instead, he turned toward Heather. As the door closed, Kevin could swear his face was contorted with rage.


Chapter Four (#ulink_72d2550e-cd1e-554e-8da0-24e0b87dd1ba)

The teak chair pinched Heather’s leg as she perched on the edge trying to make her legs look sexy. David wasn’t even looking at her; instead he stood chatting away with Heather’s beautiful friend Brittany. He brushed back Brittany’s blond hair and whispered something. Her laughter cut through the air.

The grill sizzled and smoke poured into Heather’s face, making her look away. A group of teenage boys were splashing around in the pool as the teenage girls sat on the side whispering behind their hands and texting on their bubblegum-pink phones.

Life had been so much simpler at that age. Days consumed with flirting and laughter. Nights filled with dreams of things to come. When she was close to that age she had been consumed with thoughts of the charming, too handsome, college-aged David—the man who had started their relationship with flowers and love notes and now couldn’t even look her in the eye.

She walked over to him, but only Brittany looked at her. “Hiya, Heather. David was just telling me about his day. He’s so funny!”

He hadn’t been funny with her in a long time.

She suffered through a smile. “Yeah.”

Brittany turned to David and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Did you tell her what happened?”

David finally bothered to look at her, but his eyes were pinched into a glare. “She doesn’t like to hear about my job.”

“What? Really?” Brittany giggled, the sound mimicking the titters coming from the poolside. “I think it’s fascinating.” She ran her finger down David’s arm. “You have such a noble job—saving lives.”

Heather couldn’t stand the way David’s face transitioned from a glare to a smile as Brittany touched him.

“I need a drink,” Heather said.

Everything would be okay. She just needed to fake it and get through this day without breaking down and having everyone find out about her failing marriage.

“I’ll go with you. Nathan’s made the best strawberry margaritas.” She looped her arm through Heather’s and made her way toward the tiki bar.

Heather glanced back at her husband, but he’d already started to talk to another woman. Across from her, poolside, was Kevin. He sent her a sexy smile as he waved.

“Two margaritas, por favor!” Brittany called to her husband.

The winter-pale Nathan had on a coconut bra T-shirt, red hibiscus-covered Bermuda shorts and a party store straw hat. “Coming right up.”

He shook his chest, making the coconuts jump. “Where’s the smile, Heath?”

“I...uh...”

“She just hasn’t had a drink yet. That’ll make everything better. Isn’t that right, bestie?” Brittany giggled and pushed her into a seat.

“Lime in the Coconut” came on the speakers and Nathan did his best impression of a hula dancer as he flipped on the blender. But not even the goofy Nathan could make her laugh today.

He poured the mix into a bowl-sized glass. As he sat the glass in front of her, the scent of tequila was strong in the air.

“Little heavy-handed with the tequila, huh?”

Nathan laughed. “I just want you to get to feeling better. Remember, it’ll be better tomorrow.”

She doubted it.

One of her neighbors, the woman from three doors down who always walked her Pomeranian in the mornings, stepped to the bar and drew Nathan’s attention.

“So what’s going on?” Brittany asked.

“Huh?” Heather took a long sip from the delicious, strawberry drink.

“You’ve barely spoken to David all day.”

Brittany thought that his avoidance was her fault? Brittany was her best friend, but if Heather told her what was truly going on and how close she was to divorce, the gossip would fly faster than cottonwood fluff in spring. Then again, if she didn’t explain, Brittany was likely to assume something far worse than the truth.

“We’re going through a rough patch.”

“I got that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at David like that before.”

“Like what?”

Brittany chewed on her lip. “Well... You looked desperate.” She said the word as if it left a foul taste.

She could hardly admit that she was desperate, or Brittany wouldn’t just carry the foul taste for the word, she would have a foul taste for her, as well. She couldn’t lose her only girlfriend.

“It’s hard, Brittany. One minute I can’t imagine my life without him, and the next I’m so angry. I’m so confused.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t give up.” She may not love him at the moment, but her mother had always told her that love varied in marriage—now was just a low.

Heather took a drink, letting the tequila soak into her tongue. “How can I get him back?”

“You’re talking to the right woman.” Brittany wiggled her finger. “I’ve got just the thing.”

* * *

“HAVE YOU SEEN COLTER?” Kevin asked, handing Lindsay a juice box.

She shaded her eyes as she looked up at him from beside the pool.

“Uh-uh. You think he’s still at practice?”

Kevin glanced down at his watch. “He should’ve been done an hour ago.”

“He’s gonna come. It’s okay, Daddy.”

He nodded as he took out his cell and called his son. It went straight to voice mail.

“Colter, this is Dad. Sorry I missed your practice. I had a thing with work. Lindsay and I are at the barbecue. Where are you? Give me a call. Love ya, bud.”

He slid the phone into his pocket and walked toward a long table filled with food. He popped a stuffed mushroom into his mouth, savoring the flavor as Bob Marley & the Wailers sang in the background.

His phone buzzed. “Colter?” he asked without looking at the screen.

“No, Kevin. It’s Detective Lawrence. I got your message.”

“Thanks for getting back to me. Did you get a chance to run by the house?”

“Yeah, your guys showed me around. Thanks for waiting.”

“Sorry. I had a meeting.”

“A meeting where they play Bob Marley?” Lawrence sounded annoyed.

“You know how it is,” Kevin answered with an awkward laugh. He didn’t need Lawrence to think of him as anything less than professional, and he was already on his last leg after leaving in the middle of an investigation. “Did you get a chance to pull up Goldstein’s record?”

“She has a few citations, but nothing major. Certainly nothing that would make me think she would be behind an arson. Then again, it’s the ones you don’t see coming...” Detective Lawrence sighed. “You got any suspects?”

“I’m looking into it.”

“You haven’t spoken to Goldstein yet?”

“Not yet.”

Kevin’s breath caught in his throat as Heather made her way out of the back door of the Millers’ house with Brittany close at her heels. He couldn’t help notice she’d changed clothes. A pink miniskirt now hugged the round arch of Heather’s hips and she wore a white shirt with a cut so deep that it exposed her navel. For a moment, everything and everyone at the block party went silent. The only sound was the lapping of the pool.

Lawrence said something, but Kevin couldn’t make out his words.

She was so beautiful standing there with curves he never knew she had. The wind fingered the edge of the V-neck top, exposing the roundness of each of her breasts.

What would it be like to kiss that skin—that gorgeous, fresh skin? His mouth watered as he imagined running his lips over her body.

“Kevin, you there?”

“Huh?”

He tried to look away.

“Are you listening?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said let me know if you need anything.”

“Sounds great. I gotta run,” Kevin said, forcing himself to stop staring.

The woman was his neighbor. She was married. No matter how badly he wanted her, she was off-limits.


Chapter Five (#ulink_a741a56d-c331-590b-87ff-ff0644f83f1a)

Her mind swam in the relaxing surf of her second margarita. The world around her had mellowed; there were no more harsh whispers or judging stares. Just a hot pink miniskirt and Brittany by her side.

“You have this,” Brittany whispered.

“You think he cares?”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “David’s going to eat this up. You look beautiful.”

Heather reached down and tried to inch the skirt lower. David always gawked at the women who wore this type of thing. Hopefully he’d be just as happy to see her in such an outfit.

“Here he comes.” Brittany nodded toward David, who was staring wide-eyed at her. “I told you this would get his attention. From the looks of things, you got everyone else’s, as well. I wish I got that kind of reaction.” She giggled and gave Heather a quick side hug and then walked away. David strode over.

“What in the hell, Heather?” he seethed through a smile of gritted teeth. He grabbed her by the back of the arm and moved her so their faces were concealed.

She looked back over her shoulder. Every adult was staring at them—even Kevin. His mouth was open, as if he wanted to say something, but she quickly looked away.

“Don’t I look nice?” she said loudly, hoping David would catch the hint that they were on display.

“You look great,” he said, but the way his fingers dug into her soft flesh said exactly the opposite.

He turned and nodded toward Nathan. “Thanks for dinner. We have to be going.”

Nathan nodded and waved with a paper umbrella in his hand.

“What in the hell do you think you’re wearing?” David dragged her out of the gate and toward his Porsche.

“You’re hurting me. Please, let go,” she said, her drink-slowed words coming out of her lips as though they were coming from someone else, someone bolder.

“I’m hurting you? Do you know how much you just embarrassed me?”

He’d been embarrassing her for years—when he hadn’t shown up to dinner dates, when he had forgotten to come home at night and when he had called her names in front of their friends. Now he was telling her she was embarrassing him?

It might have been the margaritas, but she couldn’t even look at him.

He pushed her into the passenger seat of his coupe and then went to his side and got in.

“You’re such a slut.”

A feeling of sickness rose in her throat.

“I’m not a slut,” she said under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She swallowed back the urge to vomit.

“Did you think Andrew would be there? Were you parading yourself for him?” He looked her up and down. “He can do better.”

“I don’t know how to prove to you that I’ve never cheated.”

The road buzzed by. “So you’re a liar and a whore? Real classy. I married you to be a pure wife and a wholesome mother. First you couldn’t give me the children I wanted, and now you’re a cheater. There’s no reason to keep you in my life.”

“I...” She tried to swallow the sickness back, but it was no use. She threw her hands over her mouth. She tried to tell him to pull over, but it was too late. She was sick all over his black dashboard.

He’d never forgive her. He loved the car more than anything, and definitely more than her.

“What the hell!” He pulled the car to the side of the road. He reached across her and opened the door. “Get out! I’m never going to be able to get your stench out of the leather.”

They were only a few houses away from theirs, but distance didn’t matter... She was sick. If he’d been sick, she would have spent the rest of the day being the dutiful wife her mother had taught her to be. Yet he cared so little, he was kicking her out on the side of the road.

“I can’t believe you, David.”

“Get. Out.” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

She grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car. He slammed the door and sped away with a spray of gravel.

Once again, she was alone, just as she had been as a child when her parents had fought. Sometimes it frightened her how much David reminded her of her father. They were cut from the same cloth, constantly berating and putting down their wives—and this time, instead of her mother, it was Heather being demeaned.

David stopped at their house. He didn’t pull the car into the garage; instead he got out and walked in through the front door.

What would happen if she didn’t go home?

David would probably love it. He’d never have to see her again. He’d get everything. All he’d need was a new wife. A wife to give him the family he’d always wanted—something he was only too happy to remind her she’d failed to give him no matter how hard she’d tried.

She stepped up onto the sidewalk and made her way toward the house. Before she could go inside she needed to clean herself up. She walked around the side of the house and washed up with the hose.

When she entered the kitchen, David threw a manila envelope at her.

“I’ve had the divorce papers written up. All you have to do is sign them. Do it now.”

She stared at the envelope that lay on the counter just where his note had been only hours before. She didn’t dare touch the paper out of fear that, if she did, it would make everything real.

“David...no...”

“Just sign the papers. You have to be as unhappy as I am.”

For the first time in memory, she agreed with him. She wasn’t happy. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been happy with him. But that was what marriage was, right? It had ups and downs, and the job of both people was to make it work. Wasn’t it?

“Things will get better. We just need to work together. Maybe you could take some time off. I don’t remember when we spent real time together.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I was avoiding you? We should’ve put a stop to this relationship a long time ago, but I know you’re nothing without me. It was an act of sheer kindness that I’ve allowed you to be my wife this long.”

Something inside her broke.

“You’ve allowed me to be your wife? Hasn’t it occurred to you all I’ve given up to be with you? I gave up my education for you. I gave up my hopes of a job.”

“A job,” he said with a smirk. “That would take dedication.”

“Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean that I’m not dedicated—if I love something, I give it everything... Even if my love turns out to be misplaced.” She looked at him and tried to control the hatred that welled within her.

“If you loved me so much, maybe you should have tried a little harder.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a pen and laid it on the envelope. “Just sign the paperwork. It’s over.”

She stared at the envelope but didn’t move. “We made a promise to each other. You told me you never wanted to get a divorce. That marriage meant something to you.”

“Marriage does mean something to me, Heather. It means fidelity, trust, honesty. You haven’t given me any of those things.”

She shook her head, trying to get rid of the ringing of his words. “Why do you always accuse me of something I haven’t done? I’ve never given you reason to think—” She paused as a terrible thought came to mind. “Are you cheating on me, David? Is that what all this is about? Are you accusing me out of your own guilt? Are you trying to make yourself feel better about something you’ve done?”

“How dare you accuse me. I spend my days saving people’s lives. I’m a damn hero.” He ripped open the envelope and pushed the papers in front of her. “Sign them.”

Her hands shook. It wasn’t that she hadn’t imagined the possibility of him asking for a divorce; she had just never thought it would be today.

There was no coming back from this—not right now. He was too angry. There was only one thing to do that could make it any better—she had to hold him off.

“I’ll have a lawyer take a look.”

“Don’t you trust me, Heather?”

“If you had asked me two hours ago, I would’ve said yes. But now, it would be stupid if I did.”

She picked up the papers and her car keys and walked out.


Chapter Six (#ulink_f6acd6cf-d7a0-5930-aa89-c3c2b9e43afc)

After Heather’s forced disappearance, Kevin hadn’t been interested in the Millers’ party and he’d found an excuse to leave. He shut his daughter’s door. Surprisingly Lindsay had dropped into her bed without protest, just as she’d easily agreed with him to leave the party.

Colter sat behind his computer in his bedroom as Kevin made his way down the hall.

“Where were you, Colter?”

His son shrugged as he faced his screen. “I dunno.”

“Try it again, bud. Where did you go after baseball practice?”

“Baseball practice ran long.” He didn’t turn around. “When I made it to the Millers’, the party was over.”

“You mind looking at me? I’m trying to talk to you.”

His son shifted a few degrees in his seat. “What? I’m talking to you.”

Kevin had never been much of a disciplinarian—that had always been more Allison’s job. God, he wished she was here.

Once again he was reminded how badly he wanted a woman in their lives, someone he could share the ups and downs with, someone he could hold in his arms at night—someone like Heather.

“Is Heather going to come to my game?” Colter asked, as if he could somehow sense what was on Kevin’s mind.

“I don’t know. If you’d made it to the party, you could’ve asked her yourself. Where were you?”

“God, don’t you get tired of asking the same questions? I told you... Baseball practice ran late. When I got to the party it was shut down. I didn’t stick around.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that baseball practice lasted that long, do you?” Kevin leaned against Colter’s door frame, half in and half out of the bedroom, just far enough in to let him know that he had his full attention, but far enough out that it wasn’t a confrontation.

Then again, everything with Colter these days was a confrontation.

“Were you with a girl?”

Colter tapped at his keyboard. “No.”

He was getting nowhere. “I would appreciate it if you would do as I ask. It’s important that I can count on you, or else this free-for-all is going to come to a screeching halt. No more baseball. No more girls. No more friends.”

His son spun around and cursed.

He twitched at the sound of his son’s language. That was a new one.

“If you want to talk and act like a big man, that’s fine, bud. But you need to know you’re causing problems. I’m trying to do my best here. I’m sorry I can’t be everywhere, but you aren’t making this any easier. I need to trust you, okay?”

Colter’s expression remained blank. He would make one hell of a poker player.

“Fine.”

“Will you let me know when baseball practice runs late again? Please?”

“Fine.”

“I love you, kid, but this attitude needs to come to an end.” Kevin pushed off the door frame. “Get to bed. You have school in the morning.”

Colter turned back around in his chair to face his computer. “Got it.”

Kevin closed the door and walked into the living room.

Every day since Allison had died, some more of Colter seemed to fade. No matter how hard Kevin had tried, no matter how many parenting books he had read, he had failed at helping his son—just like he’d failed to save Allison. He couldn’t help but feel as though he was on the brink of losing someone else he loved.

There was a knock at the door and he went to answer it, wondering who was calling on him now.

Heather stood on the top step. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes were red as if she’d been crying, her deep V-neck shirt was wet and soiled.

“What happened?” He motioned for her to come inside.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where to go. Brittany wasn’t answering.”

“Come on in.” He stepped aside. He would have asked her what was wrong, but after what he had seen at the barbecue there was no point.

She stumbled to the couch and sat with her feet curled beneath her. “Thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No. I just put the kids to bed.” He pointed at her shirt. “You want something clean to wear?”

She looked down and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, my God... Those damn margaritas.”

“Be right back.” He went to his bedroom and came back with a shirt. “Here, you can have this.” He handed it to her and turned his back as she slipped off her V-neck. In the mirror by the door, he caught a glimpse of her naked breasts. He stiffened as he looked away. No matter how much he wanted to look at her, to take those puckered pink nipples into his mouth and make them his, she belonged to someone else.

“I’m done,” she said. “Thanks for the shirt.”

He turned but didn’t know where to go, so he just stood there. “You’re welcome.”

Normally around women he was cool and collected. Yet with Heather, it was different. She was different. And no matter how badly he tried to break into work mode, treating her as though she was just another victim, he couldn’t. He didn’t feel right taking her by the hand and telling her it would all be okay. If he touched her, he might not be able to let her go.

“You want something to drink?” He moved toward the kitchen.

She stared into space. “David wants a divorce. He has the papers ready. I don’t know what to do.”

“What?” Kevin stopped and turned to her.

“Don’t make me say it again. It doesn’t feel real. None of this feels real.”

“I get it.” He felt like a moron, but he couldn’t think of the right thing to say.

In a way, he’d been in her shoes when he had found out about Allison’s death. A part of him had died in that moment. No matter how many times people said “I’m sorry,” nothing could staunch the pain.

“I never thought this day would come. I mean...we’ve been unhappy. I thought maybe, but...I thought we’d make it through this. I should have seen this coming.”

“When you love someone, sometimes you don’t see what’s staring back at you.”

“What do you mean?”

He thought back to David hitting on Brittany at the barbecue. If Heather hadn’t seen it, he was the last person who should tell her.

“Nothing. I just mean—”

“You think he doesn’t love me?”

“I didn’t say that,” he said, mentally trying to backpedal.

“It’s okay. I know he doesn’t. It’s been a long time since...well, since I think he felt something other than contempt toward me. A divorce seems like the only answer.”

“Is that what you want—a divorce?” The question came from a place inside him where he begged that she would say yes.

She didn’t answer. Rather, she looked broken, as though she was a pane of glass that had been waiting for the strike of a hammer, and now that the blow had been struck, she’d come to him to help find the pieces.

He saved lives, but he’d never been good at rebuilding them—not even when the life was his own. He tried hard, but despite his efforts, Colter was a mess and he didn’t spend nearly enough time with Lindsay. Everything he did was a struggle. Every choice was wrong or surrounded by guilt. He could never give Heather what she needed.

She wiped the tears from her eyes as she stood up and moved to him, her hips swaying with purpose.

What was she doing? She’d never looked at him like that before, with such intensity. If anything, she’d been overly insistent that they were friends...good friends, but that had been all. But that look, that light in her dark eyes, said there was something more—something he’d felt since the first moment he’d met her.

He must have been reading her wrong. He stepped back until he bumped into the table beside the door. “Heather...”

She put her finger on his lips, quieting him. Rising to her tiptoes, she swept her tear-dampened lips over the skin of his neck. Sparks of electricity shot down his body and reawakened a part of him that he had written off.

“What’re you doing?” he tried to say, but it came out barely above a whisper thanks to the soft pressure of her finger against his lips.

She slipped his earlobe into her mouth and sucked.

Oh, God... He wanted this. He wanted her.

He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to his bed. He wanted to wake up covered in her scent, to lick her flavor off his lips. Her kiss moved lower. Her tongue traced the neckline of his shirt. Her hands moved up his chest.

“Heather...” he moaned. “I want you...”

Before he could say another word, her lips met his. She tasted sweet, like warm berries right off the vine. How could a woman taste so good?

He wrapped his arms around her as he relished their kiss. He could do this forever...hold her forever...be with her forever.

The scent of sweetened alcohol wafted from her. Kevin pulled back. Those lips, those pink, full lips weren’t berry flavored—they tasted of margarita.

If she had been sober and come to him willingly and openly, it would have been hard for him to say no, but as it was, with her judgment skewed and muted by booze, there was only one choice.

“Heather...” He unwrapped his arms from around her body. “We can’t do this. You can sleep here. You can have my bed. But tonight... This can’t happen.”


Chapter Seven (#ulink_903869f8-e3cf-5b49-971d-bd0836a0cad5)

Heather rolled over in bed. Where her clock should have been was a glass of water and two red capsules she assumed were ibuprofen. The sides of the glass were beaded with sweat, reminding her of the letter that David had left behind.

The letter... The divorce papers... Oh...

She sat up but was forced back down by the thump, thump, thump of the bass drum beating in her skull. She picked up the pills and swallowed them down, anything to stop the pounding.

Light streamed through unfamiliar white curtains and she looked down at a dark gray shirt, underneath which was a miniskirt. She remembered Brittany’s skirt but where had the T-shirt come from?

The bedsheets were yellow and soft, but those, too, were foreign.

She sat up more slowly, and this time the pounding of the bass drum changed to the tom, tom, tom of a timpani.

She pushed down the miniskirt and the simple action brought back a flash of her kissing Kevin, her hands sliding over the muscles of his stomach, her lips tasting the salty flavor of his skin.

Her body ached from what felt like gallons of tequila sloshing through her veins. At the very least she hadn’t had sex with him—if she had, she could have never faced him again.

Hopefully he didn’t think that her feelings were just some attempt at a drunken rebound. She had been foolish, but for her, it had sometimes felt as though there was more than a simple friendship between them.

She was such an idiot.

She tiptoed to the door and peered out into the empty hallway. This early in the morning everything was still. She slipped through the house and made her way outside, making sure to grab her shoes and purse by the front door.

The grass dripped with dew and not a single house’s lights were on, with the exception of her and David’s perfectly white house, where every single window was alight. He must have been awake all night, waiting for her.

Her stomach lurched, forcing her to run to the hedges that acted as a fence between the houses. She made it there in time to be sick.

There was a squeak of hinges as a door opened. She looked in the direction of the eerie, disquieting sound. David stood on their front step and glowered out at her.

His arms were crossed over his chest and his jaw was set, making him look like a dictatorial tyrant peering down upon his subjects.

“Get in the house.”

She made her way to the door, carefully sidestepping him as she went inside. She could feel his glare upon her.

“Your catting around just saved me a lot of money.”

* * *

KEVIN TRIED NOT to think about Heather slipping away. He should have known that was exactly what she would do when she woke. Regardless, it still bothered him that she would run away as soon as she realized how badly he had wanted her.

Hopefully they could still be friends. Hell, maybe something more if her divorce went through, but something like that had to be months, maybe years, away from happening. For all he knew, last night had been her attempt at a one-night thing. Maybe she only wanted to get back at David. Maybe his was just the closest door.

Maybe, when it came to him, she didn’t really care.

He wouldn’t know how she felt until he saw her again. He didn’t know whether to look forward to it.

Meanwhile he walked into Colter’s room. He made his way through the mess and stopped at the side of his bed. Colter’s chin showed the nicked signs of a recent battle with a razor. He reached up and pulled fuzz from a hair that had been missed. The hair was barely enough to be called a whisker, yet it was just another sign of the changes in their lives.

He leaned in and gave Colter a kiss on the head and drew in a breath, the way he used to when his son had been a baby. He no longer smelled of milk and baby powder, but rather he carried the odor of sweat with a pungent sock-scented kicker.

“Hey, bud,” he said softly, trying to rouse him. “Time to get up.”

Colter opened one eye and, seeing him, answered with a forgiving, sleepy smile.

There was still a chance to fix what was broken.

* * *

AFTER COLTER LEFT for school, Kevin dropped Lindsay off and made his way to the diner. No matter what was going on in his personal life, work awaited. At least in an investigation there was a chance he could get answers. It was black and white. Not like his mess of a private life.

His phone rang as he pulled the truck into a parking spot.

“Hello?”

“Inspector Jensen, this is Chief Larson.”

“Hey, Chief, how’s it going?” He tried to sound nonchalant.

“Not so great. I heard you and I may need to have a little meeting.”

Kevin forced a laugh. “Come on now, Chief. I didn’t do anything that bad, did I?”

“You were at last week’s meeting, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you may have some idea why you and I would be having a problem.”

“I’m aware that we’re trying to cut back on costs. I understand and would love to comply with your request. However, sir, I must be able to do my job in a professional manner. Protecting lives and saving property—am I right, Chief?”

“Absolutely.” There was a rustle as the chief moved the phone. “However, as I was made to understand, your investigation was impeded by your need to go to a neighborhood barbecue. Correct?”

His stomach clenched. How did Larson know?

“I did need to attend a social event with my family. It was an unavoidable situation.” He tried his damnedest to make it sound like brain surgery instead of a party.

“So let me get this right, Jensen. You took two rookie firefighters and had them sit on an investigation that should have been buttoned up in one pass so that you could go to an unavoidable social event? Do you know how much you cost us? I had to call in two more firefighters and give them time and a half to cover for the ones you needed to retain your chain of custody.”

“That wasn’t my intention, sir.”

“Your intention or not, this has to come to an end or I’m going to have to start cutting. We’d hate to lose you, Jensen.”

“I’m working on the investigation now. I’ll have this wrapped up soon.” He walked up to the diner. Near the door was a newspaper kiosk where a picture of Elke’s yellow-taped house blared out from the front page.

“I don’t see why you need that much time.”

“I’ve come to believe this may be the work of a serial arsonist. I’m hoping to pin down the suspect before there are any other fires.”

“What makes you think it’s a serial arsonist?”

“It’s just my gut, sir.”

“Your gut is going to cost me thousands...and possibly cost you your job. You need to get your butt over to that scene and pull the men off the lines.”

He stared at the picture on the front page of the Missoulian. “I would, but I’d hate for the press to get the idea we aren’t doing our best to keep the public safe. I mean it would look bad if there was another fire, a fire where someone was killed.”

The phone rustled. “You’ve got thirty-six hours.”

The line went dead.

He slid his phone into his pocket. The pressure was on.

Kevin walked inside and a sixtysomething waitress strode up to him.

“Can I help you, sonny?” she asked in the raspy voice of a lifelong smoker.

“I’m looking for an Elke Goldstein. She work here?”

The woman frowned. “Waddya want with her?”

“I’m just here to talk with her. I’ll sit down and wait, if that’s okay.”

She grabbed a menu and led him to a table close to the kitchen door. “She’ll be right out. Coffee?”

He mostly wanted answers, but coffee would do for now. “Sure. Thanks.”

“Take it black?”

“Unless you can pour some of your sweetness in,” he joked.

“Oh, we got a charmer, do we?” The woman strode into the kitchen with a wide smile on her lips.

A minute later a mousy, brunette woman walked out and stopped beside his table. She had a nice face, but her eyes told him she was a woman who worked long hours and dreamed of something more.

“I’m Elke.” She scowled at him as she poured his coffee. “I know you?”

“The name’s Kevin Jensen. I’m a fire inspector for the city of Missoula.” He took a long drink of the ashy tasting coffee. “I was called to your house last night. Nice to meet you.”

She took a step back from the table and looked over her shoulder. “How’d you find me? I thought y’all weren’t going to bother me,” she said, her voice tinged with a slight Southern drawl.

“Battalion Chief Hiller told me you worked here.”

She nodded, but her body tensed and the pot in her hand shook slightly, sloshing the coffee. “He had no business tellin’ you. I didn’t have nothin’ to do with that fire.”

In the fire academy, one lesson had been drilled into him over and over: It didn’t matter what words came out of a person’s mouth, body language and demeanor were a much better indicator of someone’s guilt or innocence. Right now, Ms. Goldstein looked guilty. All he needed to figure out was whether she was guilty of setting the fire or guilty of something else.

“I’m sure you didn’t have anything to do with it,” he lied. “I just need to ask you a few questions so we can make sure you get the money you are entitled to from your insurance company.” He paused as he let the bait sink in. “You do have insurance, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I think so...” She looked away as though she was trying to catch a memory that had drifted out of reach.




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