by Freya Barker
Funny, my girls in San Antonio are around her age, but they never make me feel old. Fuck, I wish they were here.
“I should head in. My last appointment for the day is probably waiting for me already.” I get up and toss my now empty cup in the trash.
“Right behind you,” Jen says, her cup following mine in the bin. “I should be good for those last couple of hours.”
We part at the stairs, and I make my way over to the small cluster of offices and treatment rooms that make up the outpatient side of the new burn center. Aside from Sandy, the center’s receptionist, I’m the only one who takes up permanent residence there. The other two offices are used on rotation by specialists.
“Your three o’clock cancelled,” she calls out when I pass her desk. “Something about throwing his back out? Anyway, I slotted him in for next week. Poor guy seems to have the worst kind of luck.” Jeff Youngman, the farmer who was caught in a barn fire, certainly seems to have a decent run of misfortune in the past six or so weeks.
“Sure sounds that way. Okay, it’ll give me a chance to catch up on my admin. I’m a little behind entering data on the new patients we’ve added this past week.”
I’m about to enter my office when Sandy calls out again. “Oh, before I forget: you left your phone in your office, it’s been ringing.”
The moment I slide behind my desk, it starts ringing again, right on cue.
Keith
“My screen still shows ‘asshole.’ Guess I should probably change that.”
I blow out a big breath of relief when she picks up. I was about to drive out to the hospital. I’ve been trying to call for the past twenty minutes and started thinking the worst. In hindsight pretty dumb, since I’m sure there are times she’s dealing with patients and can’t answer.
“I might still live up to the title.”
“Should I be worried?” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Hardly.” Phones should be used solely to relay messages, but I find myself leaning back in my chair, enjoying the sound of Autumn’s sexy voice. “Where are you?”
“In my office. You?”
“Same. Is your door closed?”
“Nope.”
“Would you consider closing it?”
“Nope,” she says again, this time popping her P.
“Tease.”
“How am I a tease?”
“Your voice is sexy.”
“Bullshit, I sound like Dirty Harry after a heavy night on the town.” She chuckles and the raspy sound goes straight to my cock.
“It works for me. Come to think of it, you’ve got his squint down too. Very hot.”
She bursts out laughing, and I find myself grinning at the silly banter, when I hear a throat clear. My eyes shoot to the door. Tony’s head is poking in, amusement on his face.
“Should I come back?” he asks sarcastically.
“Give me five.” I’ll never fucking hear the end of it.
“I should let you go,” Autumn quickly suggests.
“No, it’s just Tony. He can damn well wait.” The idiot in question is grinning in the doorway. I wave him off. “I was actually just calling to check how your day is going, and when you plan to head home.”
“I had a patient cancel, but I’ve got some work I have to catch up on—why?”
“I just want to make sure everything’s okay at your place. If you give me a heads-up when you leave, I’ll just pop over, check things out.”
“Do you think that’s really necessary?”
Fuck, now I’ve worried her. “More for my own peace of mind than anything else. I’m up to my eyeballs and will likely be working late. Indulge me on this.”
I can almost hear her thinking in the pregnant pause that follows. Finally she says, “Okay. I do have to grab a few groceries on the way home, but I’ll just be in and out.”
“Sounds good. I’ll let you get back to work, and I’ve got Tony hanging around outside my door. Later, Red.”
“Soon.”
And damn if that word didn’t sound just like a promise. At least to my libido it does.
“You can come in, asshole. I know you’re out there lurking.”
“You’re cute,” he ribs, as expected. “Already all domesticated and shit. Having an actual conversation on the phone. Next you’ll be picking up milk on your way home.”
“Fuck off, Ramirez.”
“Yeah, no, I don’t think so,” he says, suddenly serious as he waves a report in my face. “Guess they were feeling the pressure too, reports on both scenes are back from the lab and the fire inspector, and I have a victim statement too.”
Tony goes on to outline the findings. Despite a slightly different cocktail as accelerant, it looks like the work of the same guy. Christ, the thought of more than one arsonist at work is enough to give me sleepless nights. Just one is enough.
“Here’s an interesting thought.” Tony flips open the reports on both scenes side by side. “Based on the percentages of each accelerant in the cocktail—which match to the decimal—the Delwood house and the shed fire were set by the same individual. However, in the case of Autumn’s shed, there was no trace of accelerant sprayed on the structure as at the other sites. Looks like he may have tied a soaked rag to the poor cat’s tail, making it an effective incendiary device. He wanted her attention in a big way.”
“Sure fucking looks like it. Anything on the notes?”
“Partial thumb print on the envelope of the second note. They’re running it through AFIS. The envelopes didn’t yield much otherwise. They are working on typing the ink and the stationery, but unless there’s something to compare it to, it’s not the kind of information that’s going to help us find him.”
“So what then? We already figured his victims were pretty random. There isn’t really anything that connects them. We just found out the guy has a hard-on for Autumn, and she is clueless as to who might do something like that. She says she has no enemies.” A mental image of her badly scarred back comes to mind, and I wonder if I’ll need to press her on a little background after all. I’m not ready to share that bit of information with Ramirez until I find out if it may be connected to the case. Then I have no choice.
“Motive. We need to look closer at motive,” Tony points out.
“Easier said than done. It would require getting into the mind of someone who is clearly off his fucking rocker.”
“Why not get our friends on Rock Point Drive to have a look? They have access to the Behavioral Science Unit and may be able to get us a profile on the guy.”
He’s referring to our local La Plata County FBI field office, only a few years old. The SAC, Damian Gomez, is a good friend and will be open to lend a hand if he can. “I’ll give him a call tonight,” I consent. “Also—although I know it’s not something any of us are comfortable considering—we have to look a little closer to home. You know the stats on repeat arsonists.”
“You’re talking about Biel?” He looks at me sharply. I knew he picked up on my comment earlier today.
“For one, but goddammit, it’s going to be a minefield. I like the guy, and I’d like nothing more than to eliminate him right off the bat, but he’s friendly with Autumn, and other than the Delwood fire, he was on scene at the others and just happened to show up at her house last night. We have to look into him very quietly. We should probably put together a list of other first responders who showed up at all the fires, except perhaps the one on Delwood. Whoever is responsible couldn’t have been there and at Autumn’s house at the same time.”
I watch as Ramirez gathers his reports and gets up. I’m sure this weighs on him as much as it does on me, but we can’t afford to leave a stone unturned. We have bitter few leads to go on as it is.
“I’ll handle it myself,” he says with a stiff nod, walking out of my office.
After a couple of hours of squinting at the puny font they use these days, my eyes are gritty. It’s giving me a headache. The ping of an incoming text
supplies a welcome distraction, as I pick up my phone.
Red: Leaving now. Gonna hit Nature’s Oasis. Home in 20.
Me: See you there
I grab my phone and my keys. It’ll only take me two minutes to get to her place, but I want to check in with Mr. Bartik first. The man was very friendly when I knocked on his door after Autumn left this morning. He was very concerned for her and didn’t take any convincing at all to let me make a few minor security adjustments.
Both the back and the porch now sport a sensor light with camera. It’s not much, but it sure as fuck makes me feel a little better. When it comes to her safety, I feel like I’m walking a tightrope. My choice would be to haul her out of there and hide her at my place, but that would require strong-arming her, and I’d like to avoid pissing her off too much at this stage of the game.
The lights will probably tick her off already. What is it they say? Easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission? We’ll see.
I stop by the desk sergeant on my way out, and drop my reports on the reception counter.
“Can you get someone to copy these reports and enlarge the print? I don’t understand why they have to make it impossible to read. Whatever happened to twelve point Times New Roman?”
Mike has about ten years seniority on me and doesn’t think twice about bursting out laughing at my expense.
“Sorry to bust your bubble, Boss, but the font hasn’t changed. Try these.” He tries to hand me his reading glasses. “Time to join the rest of us old-timers and get a pair.”
“Bullshit.”
His deep belly laugh follows me out the door.
I step off the porch when she pulls in the driveway and have her door open before she has a chance.
“Hey.”
She smiles getting out of the car and I lean down for a kiss. I would never have thought myself to be one for public displays of affection, but she makes it difficult to keep my hands—or lips—off her.
“Hey back,” she says, looking a little startled. “I’m surprised you waited outside for me. I thought for sure you’d be using that key you finagled out of me this morning, and be on your knees checking under my bed for boogeymen by now.”
“Are you nuts?” I open the back door and grab the two paper bags of groceries from the seat. “And risk getting attacked by your army of felines?”
“Chicken,” she jokes back. “They only scratch a little.”
I fake shiver and turn toward the house, Autumn following behind, chuckling softly.
“What the fuck is that?”
I stop on the top step and turn around. Figures she’d spot it right away. She seems less than pleased.
“That is a motion sensor light with camera, and before you ask: yes, there is one by the kitchen door out back too.” With her lips pressed tight and a snap to her step, she whips by me, unlocks the door and stomps into the house.
That went well.
I follow and put the bags on the kitchen counter, watching her as she fills the cat bowls on the floor with kibble. Not speaking. I take in a deep breath. “I want you safe. Not just for you, but for me. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place here, Red. My instincts would have you tucked away somewhere safe until I can figure this case out, but I already know that would go over like a lead balloon.” The only reaction I get is a loud derisive snort as she starts unpacking the groceries, but I soldier on. “With this active case, on top of my already ridiculous workload, I can’t be here all the time to keep an eye on you, like I want to. It would make focusing on my job even more difficult. This seemed like a good solution. There’s an app we can download on your phone that allows you to check in, even when you’re not home.”
Her hands have stilled and her eyes scrutinize me closely. “You did that today.”
“This morning, right after you left,” I confess. When I see her eyes tighten, I quickly add. “But I checked with your neighbor first. He was on board right away.”
A shadow of a smile appears at that but quickly evaporates when she focuses on me. Of course. “How much?” At the sight of my confusion she clarifies. “How much for the lights and the cameras?”
“Don’t worry about that,” I start, but I can already see by the stubborn set of her mouth that it’s not going to fly, so I try a different tack. “How about we split the cost, since it’s going to give us both peace of mind.”
“Fine. And don’t think I don’t know I’ve been manipulated.”
I bite the inside of my cheek not to chuckle out loud as I tag the back of her neck and pull her close, wrapping her in my hold. “Thank you for letting me off the hook.”
She must be able to hear the smile in my voice because her sharp little fist punches me in the gut, right before she slips her arms around my back.
“The truth?” she mutters under my chin. “It does make me feel safer. Thank you for caring.”
Chapter 12
Autumn
This week has just flown by.
I worked late most afternoons, trying to stay on top of the expanding workload, but today I’m heading out early. I need to stock up on groceries, and I promised my neighbor a homemade meal tonight.
He was chatting with Keith on the porch a couple of nights ago, just as I was coming home. I walked into a spirited discussion on Hungry Man frozen dinners. Apparently there’s a difference between the Salisbury steak and pulled pork versions. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t had a frozen dinner since college, and even then they all tasted equally disgusting.
When Keith admitted to having been so swamped this week, he’d resorted to eating a couple of frozen dinners at his desk, Mr. Bartik mentioned existing on the stuff. It immediately made me feel guilty. I’d lived beside the man over two months, and other than a few polite hellos, hadn’t made an effort to be a better neighbor. I immediately suggested he come over tonight for a home-cooked dinner, which seemed to be well received. I instantly decided I’d make that effort on a regular basis.
I invited Keith too, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make it.
Chicken potpie is on the menu, and I quickly grab some cheat ingredients that will have dinner on the table in less than an hour. The old man had told me he didn’t eat ‘rabbit food,’ so salad is out of the question, but I figure I can sneak some steamed broccoli on his plate. I add some fresh berries to my cart—they would work with ice cream for dessert—snag a bottle of wine and head to the cash register.
“Need a hand?” I swing around at Evan’s voice behind me and almost drop the groceries I was determined to carry to my car. “Here, give me those.” He relieves me of some of my bags.
“Thanks. It’s my own fault,” I admit, digging through my purse for my keys. “I don’t want to bother taking the cart so I try to carry everything. What are you doing here?” I glance at him as I unlock the car.
He grins. “Groceries for the firehouse.” He loads the bags into the back seat before straightening.
“Again?”
“Boys eat a lot, what can I say.”
“I bet. By the way, I’m sure you heard your friend was released yesterday?”
“Scott Beacham? Yeah, some of us dropped by last night. He seems to be doing much better.”
“That’s great. Well, I should head out; my dinner date is probably waiting at my door already. Thanks again.” I throw him a smile and open the driver’s side door.
“Guess Blackfoot’s still hanging around?” There’s something in the way he says that I don’t particularly care for.
“As a matter-of-fact, yes, he is. I’m not sure what is going on with you and him, but do me a favor, keep me out of it. Oh, and just for clarity’s sake, it’s my elderly neighbor I’m cooking for tonight, although I’m not quite sure why I’m even telling you.”
I notice the instant look of regret on his face, but ignore it and slip behind the wheel. I know something is up between the two men, because I’ve had that same question from Keith as well, concerning Evan. If they have shit t
o sort, they can do it on their own time. I’ll tell Keith the same thing next time he brings the other man up.
A quick peek in my rearview mirror as I drive out of the parking lot shows Evan, hands in his pockets, his eyes following my car.
As he has every day this week, Keith is waiting for me on the porch. Never more than to check my place, give me a kiss that curls my toes but doesn’t go anywhere, and rush back out to whatever is growing on his plate that day. To say I’m frustrated is putting it mildly.
It was almost a week ago his mouth was between my legs, leaving me with a promise of things that remains unfulfilled. At this rate, I’ll be back in San Antonio before I’ve even have a chance to test the waters with him. The moment the thought enters my head, I feel guilty. The man is here every day, showing his concern and care—instead of letting sexual frustration cloud the value of that—I should consider myself lucky. It is just so out of my frame of reference. I’m used to the instant sexual gratification, without the added complexities of building a real relationship.
“You know, I appreciate you doing this every day, right?” I start when he meets me at my car to help me unload. He looks up a bit confused.
“Yeah? Why do I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming?”
“Not really, just wanted you to know I’m grateful. I just don’t want to take you away from important things, when you can also see me come home on the camera via that monitoring app I know you downloaded on your own phone as well.”
He gives me a lopsided grin, knowing he’s busted. I figured that out quickly when every morning I’d get a text, wishing me a good day, just as I sat my ass behind the wheel of my car. It probably should’ve creeped me out, and it would’ve from anyone else, but from Keith it seemed in character. Being protective without being too controlling. I’m sure it’s a struggle, which makes me appreciate it even more.
