by Laura Scott
The Preacher had chosen his abuse targets wisely, lashing out at Caitlyn only when the older kids tried to rebel.
His strategy had worked. They’d all grown very protective of Caitlyn. And learned very quickly to toe the line.
Until the night of the fire.
“Miss? Is it okay if I take these?”
Jayme realized another young woman had come into the pantry. Someone she didn’t recognize. “Good morning, my name is Jayme. Of course, help yourself to whatever you need.”
“I’m Renee. There’s a lot of stuff here.” The way the woman glanced around indicated it was her first trip to the pantry.
Jayme came out from behind the counter, smiling gently. “I know, but I promise you can help yourself. There’s no limit as to what you can take. We understand you may have a family at home.”
“I—didn’t expect to see so much variety.” Renee looked younger than Caitlyn, except for her eyes, which had seen far too much. Jayme understood, she’d had the same experiences. She subtly checked for signs of drug use but didn’t see anything obvious like dilated pupils, needle marks, or meth-stained teeth.
“Are you new to the area, Renee?” Jayme kept her question casual, lest she scare her off. Runaways were skittish, trying to avoid unwanted attention.
Renee nodded but moved toward the tall shelf containing canned goods and boxed milk. All food donations were nonperishable, and Jayme often wished she could provide something more nutritious.
When the young woman’s arms were full of canned goods, a jar of peanut butter, and a box of dried milk, Jayme picked up a box and began packing her items. “You still have some room if you need more.”
“I’m fine, but I have to ask, who brings all this food in?”
“Donations are from citizens who live in the area.” Jayme smiled. “We’re open every Saturday, so you’re welcome to come back next weekend.”
“I—thanks.” Renee picked up her box and hurried out.
Jayme thought someone like Renee might be the perfect candidate to stay in Caitlyn’s old room, but she couldn’t even think about that until the stupid arsonist was caught. No sense in putting others in danger because some crazy guy liked setting fires.
The pantry closed at 1:00 p.m., and most of the people who came on a regular basis knew that. By twelve thirty, the place was empty. Jayme went back to straightening the shelves, putting the items that remained in order.
When the door opened ten minutes later, she glanced over in surprise as she recognized one of the physical therapy clinic patients step across the threshold. He was roughly in his early sixties and had a deep jagged scar on his face and others along his left arm. She didn’t know the details about his care and treatment as he worked primarily with Sandra during his weekly appointment. “Hi, Mr. Shepard. Can I help you with something?”
“Oh, I just wanted to check the place out. And here.” He crossed over and set two cans of green beans on the counter. “I thought you might be able to use these.”
“Thanks, we are always happy to accept donations.” She thought it was sweet of him to bring in something when his worn clothes indicated he didn’t have money to spare. She took the cans and set them next to the other canned vegetables. “Take a look around, there’s plenty left if you need something in particular.”
“Thank you, Ms. Jayme.” He peered at her through thick glasses and smiled, the deeply grooved scar running down his left cheek meant that only one side of his mouth tipped up. Knowing how people couldn’t look at her scarred hand made her feel bad for the guy who had even more disfiguring scars.
The first time she’d seen him, she’d wondered what had happened to him. Sandra had confided that he’d had several surgeries after a close encounter with a bomb. Even that much was probably breaking privacy laws, so Jayme hadn’t pushed for more. She thought he might be a soldier, but he looked almost too frail for that. The man shuffled over to the shelving units, moving as if he’d broken his hip at some point.
“I’ll take some peanut butter, if that’s okay.” He turned and held the jar in his hand. “I love peanut butter.”
“Who doesn’t?” she asked with a smile. “Of course, help yourself. Have a good day.”
“You too, Ms. Jayme.” He shuffled toward the door. “You too.”
After Mr. Shepard left, she used her phone to call Linc. It felt weird to call him, but she was determined to treat him as a friend, despite the devastating kiss.
“Hi, Jayme, everything okay?”
“Fine. I’m getting ready to close for the day.”
“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”
“Did you find anything?” She hated to keep asking, but she didn’t want to stay at Linc’s house one moment longer than necessary. She was already dreading the fact that she’d need to spend the rest of the day there.
All that togetherness would wreak havoc on her ability to keep him firmly in the friendship corner of her mind.
“I’ll fill you in later. Give me about fifteen minutes to get there.”
“Okay, thanks.” She disconnected from the call and debated whether or not to head back home. Spending the night in Linc’s guest room had seemed prudent so soon after the car fire.
But now she wondered if doing so was really necessary.
She closed up the pantry at one o’clock sharp, then sent a text to Irene to let her know things had gone well. Irene responded with a smiley face and a heart.
A minute later, Linc’s black SUV pulled into the parking lot. Her heart did a little flip at the sight of him.
Stop it, she chided. He’s not yours, remember?
He pulled up beside her. She opened the door and climbed in. “Hungry? The Red Mill has a special on ribs today.”
“Ah, sure.” She sternly reminded herself his casual invite to share a meal wasn’t a date. “While we eat, you can fill me in on what you’ve learned after investigating the fire that damaged my car.”
“It’s not much,” he warned. “But I found one interesting link between the two fires.”
Only one? She tried not to let her disappointment show. “I guess that’s better than nothing.”
He glanced at her. “It’s a slow process, one that unfortunately can’t be rushed.”
“I know. I guess I’m just impatient to get my life back.” She rubbed her scarred hand. “You know, I’m glad Caitlyn is in Nashville over the weekend. Maybe you’ll catch this guy before she returns.”
“Gee, no pressure,” Linc said dryly.
That made her chuckle. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a pest, but you know.” She waved a hand. “I’m sure you’d like to get this guy behind bars as much as I do.”
“True.” He sent her a sidelong glance. “It’s important that you’re safe, Jayme. I’m worried this guy will strike again.”
“That’s the only reason I agreed to stay in your guest room last night.” She shifted in her seat. “I was hoping you’d found enough that I could return home.”
“Not yet. I know it’s not easy being in a stranger’s house, but humor me for a while longer, okay?”
She nodded because really, it’s not as if she had much of a choice.
Linc parked in the crowded parking lot. The barbequed spare rib special must be a large draw because they had to wait fifteen minutes before they were seated.
After they placed their order, Linc leaned over the table and dropped his voice. “I can tell you that both the smoke bomb and the car fire were definitely done by the same person.”
“Smoke bomb?” She frowned. “You mean the first one wasn’t a fire?”
“No, it was. The small fire was contained, though. What I found interesting was that the chemicals used were specifically combined in a way to create more smoke than actual fire.”
“Great, I called the fire department for nothing.”
“You absolutely did the right thing,” he corrected. “You had no way of knowing the source of the smoke. Don’t ever hesitate to call the fire
department.” He flashed a smile. “You know we firefighters thrive on adrenaline. Even a false alarm is better than sitting around and staring at each other.”
His attempt to make her feel better was sweet. “Okay, so why do you think the smoke bomb and the car fire were similar?”
“Same types of chemicals, only they were constructed in different ways. The car fire was set with an accelerant, which was different, yet other parts of the fire were similar. Including the fact that it was relatively contained.” He stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll be honest, it’s not typical for a firebug to deliberately create a small fire. For them, bigger is always better.”
“You’re the expert,” she agreed. “So basically, this guy is just trying to scare me.”
He shrugged. “I’m not convinced. I hate to say this, but it’s more like he’s toying with you. Taunting you. Trying to knock you off balance, to keep you afraid.”
“Thanks, but I already knew that. I just wish I knew who was responsible.” She toyed with her napkin, then grimaced. “I want it to be Marco Edgar, but you’re probably going to rule him out soon enough.”
“He’s been in LA all week,” Linc admitted. “No way he could have flown from LA to Knoxville and back.”
“I figured.” Marco had been mad at her, upset about some nobody like her getting money from his dad, but starting fires didn’t seem his style.
“He could have hired someone, so he’s not completely off the hook,” Linc said. “Although his being in debt could work against that theory too. If starting these fires doesn’t provide some sort of financial payoff, not sure he’d bother.”
Good thing this wasn’t a date because everything he’d told her so far had been one big Debbie Downer. “So basically, you’re no closer to finding out who did this.”
He winced. “I’ve put the information I’ve gathered from the investigation into a country-wide arson database. If there are similar fires out there, we might get a lead on our firebug.”
Or maybe his arson database would spit out nothing at all.
Their server came with their meals, tangy chicken for her and of course spicy barbecued ribs for Linc. She picked up her fork, then set it down when she saw him bow his head to pray.
Seriously, who did this kind of thing before every single meal? She felt certain he was only doing it because she wasn’t a believer.
“Lord, please bless this food and continue keeping us safe in Your care. We ask for Your guidance as we seek to find those responsible for these fires. Amen.”
She almost asked him to include Caitlyn next time, before remembering the idea of praying wasn’t her deal. Although if she ever would succumb to praying, it would be something she’d do for Caitlyn.
Not for herself.
Silence fell as they dug into their meals. Jayme sipped her water, trying not to notice how enthusiastically Linc enjoyed his ribs.
“You wanna try them?” He grinned. “These ribs are the best in the city.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” She speared a piece of her chicken with a fork. “Mine is really good too.”
Above the din of the packed restaurant, she heard the faint whine of a siren. Curious, she craned her neck to look out the window.
“It’s a fire truck,” Linc said with a frown.
“How do you know?”
“Different sound than a police siren.” He reached for his phone. “No call yet, so it’s probably nothing.”
“Maybe a cat is stuck in a tree.” Her weak attempt at a joke fell flat.
His phone rang, and her stomach tightened as he quickly answered. “Where?” Another pause, then he said, “I’m on my way.”
“It’s a real fire?” she asked, even though the grim expression on his face told the story.
“Yes. We have to go.” He pulled out a wad of cash and left it on the table.
“Go where?” She grabbed her purse and hurried to keep up.
“The physical therapy clinic.” He glanced at her as they jogged toward his car.
The clinic? “They’re not open on Saturdays.”
Linc didn’t reply but drove as quickly as possible to the physical therapy clinic where she worked. Despite preparing herself mentally, she still gasped in horror.
The front window was broken, revealing the interior of the clinic full of flames.
Chapter Six
Linc felt sick as he pulled over behind the fire truck and watched the flames feed off the interior of the physical therapy clinic. He had no idea how large the inside of the place was. Based on what he could see through the large front window, he feared the clinic might be a total loss.
Why had the arsonist chosen the physical therapy clinic as his next target?
Just because Jayme worked there? Or was it possible one of the patients was setting fires as a way to get back at the employees?
“I . . . can’t believe it.” Jayme’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I’m sorry.” Linc knew the words were inadequate. He was relieved to know the place was closed, so there were no potential casualties. Yet he still felt as if he’d let her down. He’d asked the police to keep an eye on her house but hadn’t considered the clinic as a possible target. Not that it would have mattered if he had. The small police department wasn’t staffed for twenty-four-hour surveillance. “Stay here, I need to talk to the captain.”
“I’m coming with you.” She pushed out of the SUV before he could stop her. And really, he couldn’t blame her. If this fire was a result of someone trying to get back at her, he’d want to know exactly what was going on too.
“Captain.” Linc nodded at Barstow, the police captain on duty. “What do you know so far?”
“Looks to be a type of Molotov cocktail tossed through the window, causing the interior to go up in flames.” Captain Barstow glanced at Jayme. “Once we verified no one was inside, our goal has been to keep the fire under control and prevent it from spreading to other businesses nearby.”
Jayme’s face was pale as she turned to look at the clothing shop, Brenda’s Boutique, located within ten feet of the clinic. Customers from the boutique and other nearby businesses milled around, obviously having been evacuated for their safety. Linc noted one fire crew kept a stream of water deployed on the boutique as the closest place to the source of the fire. The rest of the firefighters on scene continued battling the blaze.
“Any idea what accelerant was used?” Linc asked.
“We believe kerosene was the source, at least from the smell.” Captain Barstow shrugged. “We have police officers canvassing the area, checking IDs and searching for anyone reeking of accelerant or showing too much interest in the fire.”
Linc nodded, taking a moment to do his own visual sweep of the area. Nobody stood out as not belonging, but he knew from experience the firebug was likely out there watching.
From a distance, using binoculars? Maybe. He took his time, searching likely vantage points but didn’t see anything remotely suspicious.
This particular firebug wasn’t following any normal pattern, so for all he knew, the guy was long gone. Sitting somewhere private and safe while he planned his next target.
One that might hit closer to home.
Another wave of nausea hit hard at the thought. “I should have anticipated this,” he said in a low voice. “The two small fires had been engineered to get our attention, but this?” He shook his head helplessly. “This is full-out, in-your-face arson.”
“It’s hard to imagine anyone setting fire to the clinic as a way to get back at me,” Jayme murmured. “Why lash out at a place that helps patients who have been hurt? Seeing this”—she waved at the fire—“makes me realize Marco Edgar probably isn’t involved. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
The fact that Marco hadn’t left the state of California meant he wasn’t the one who’d set the fire. But even if he had hired someone, the clinic was a strange target. “I know, but I’m not ruling anyone out at this point.” Not t
hat proving who was or wasn’t involved would be easy. There were cases where people went out to hire an arsonist, mostly for insurance reasons. Was it possible that Marco knew enough about Jayme that he thought striking out at her place of employment would hurt her financially? Revenge could be as much of a motivator as money.
More so in the case of a very personal vendetta.
A good ten minutes passed before the fire crew had the blaze under control. Unfortunately, the scene would be too hot for him to begin investigating.
“I guess I won’t be getting paid anytime soon.” Jayme’s blue eyes were dazed as she stared at the damaged clinic. “The other employees either. It’s all so surreal. I’m not the only one who will suffer. Everyone who works here will be negatively impacted from this.”
“Try not to worry about that now.” He put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a gentle hug. “The clinic has insurance. I’m sure the goal will be to get things up and running as soon as possible. It will just take some time.”
“Okay.” She abruptly shrugged off his arm and walked back toward the SUV. He wanted to follow but sensed she needed some time alone.
“Jayme? Can you believe this?” He turned at the sound of a woman’s voice. A pretty African American woman rushed toward Jayme and hugged her. “I don’t know what to think. Could Gary have done this?”
Gary? Linc moved closer.
“I don’t know, Sandra. I—I think it’s my fault.” Jayme’s voice broke as tears streamed down her face. “I think someone has targeted me.”
