He cupped her shoulders and turned her. “You’ve been hanging tough but something upset you. What?”
Her eyes darkened. “About Gail. I don’t know how to say this except straight out.”
“About her multiple...lovers, you mean?” How much else she knew, he wasn’t sure so he left it at that. His belly heaved whenever he thought about it. How must the news have affected Lani?
Her brows winged upward. “That was in the case report?”
He shook his head. “Gail’s friends and lovers didn’t tell the fire investigator or the prosecutor. But they’re talking now. I’ve heard the stories. Like you have.”
“First, by no stretch of the imagination can I call her sex partners lovers. What she was doing had nothing to do with love or desire.”
The bitterness and pain in her voice stopped him from asking what she meant. For now. He accepted the folded paper she took from her pocket.
“Those four are the only names Becca and Heather knew for certain,” she said. “There were others. Maybe even Kevin.”
He read the names, all familiar. Two local—not Mike Spear or Steve Quimby. Two new ones to track down.
“That’s not all.” Her shoulders sagged, clearly with the weight of what she’d learned. She stared past him into the trees as if the answers lurked in the chickadees’ chatter. “Her other secret explains her moods that summer.”
“That secret was in the report.” Jake ached for her. “According to what your parents told Tyson, she had an abortion that spring. A guy at college. He had an alibi that night.”
“That’s what I found out from Gail’s friends. The abortion, I mean.” She pressed a hand to her chest as if her heart hurt. Her mouth trembled but no tears welled. Sheer will power. Did this tough cookie ever let anyone see her cry? Or did she let herself cry at all? Somehow her fight for control made her seem more vulnerable.
“The infection she had must’ve been caused by the abortion,” she continued after a moment. “Mom said mono was the reason she dropped some of her classes.”
“A white lie to protect Gail’s secret?”
“Guess she was ashamed. Or maybe it was the rest. I don’t know.”
“The rest?”
Damn, he still didn’t have the whole picture. This mystery had more layers than Maine had rocks. “Okay, lob the other hand grenade.”
“Heather said the infection left her sterile. Knowing she could never have babies sent her into a tailspin. Every time she slept with a guy, she told her friends it didn’t matter because she couldn’t get pregnant. She wouldn’t listen to them about STDs.”
Damn, that sucked. No wonder she went into tailspin. “Depression. The reason for her moods and the frantic coupling.” The wanton sex that had probably led to murder. And could again if he didn’t nail the bastard. “Seems neither of us really knew her.”
“All this surprised you too?” Lani said.
He jabbed a hand through his hair. “I had no clue. She made a big deal out of exclusivity between us.” Rather than dwell on the myriad blows to his masculine pride, he switched the focus. “Everyone else knew what was going on but she didn’t confide in you. That has to bite.”
“Big time. She knew I wished I was hot and popular like her. It hurts she didn’t feel she could share her pain with me, her twin. I screamed at her ghost when I got home, I admit. But sitting here thinking, I get it. Sort of. My folks were protecting me, protecting her. Maybe they thought I’d give her a hard time about it. Maybe I would’ve.” She gave him a rueful but wobbly smile. “The usual sibling stuff.”
So she didn’t believe in herself as a woman because she’d felt overshadowed by the more outgoing Gail, but still hung in with her twin when things got rough. She didn’t realize she was every bit as hot. Every bit as beautiful. More so—inside. Kind and caring. Genuine and loyal.
Lani extricated herself from Jake’s embrace. In his arms, she felt warm and secure, but no way did she want to depend on him. “Thanks for making me feel better. Don’t think you can distract me from the case reports. Hand ‘em over, buster.”
“Not so fast, Quick Draw.” He held the folder out of reach. “I had a chat with Steve Quimby today, remember?”
Resigned, she sat cross-legged and listened while he went over Steve’s interview. Ol’ Steve had been just as evasive as Mike Spear. The Eagle Task Force research found zip on them but both had murky alibis. Mike’s depended on his wife and Steve claimed he didn’t remember.
“Just great. And Kevin?” Crap, she shouldn’t have asked. But she had to know.
“According to the report, lots of people saw him at the fundraiser party that night. But none of them at the crucial times. J.T. kept the car keys. Kevin didn’t drive away, so he had to be there. I’ll follow up on that.”
“And the other? Kevin, with Gail?”
“I haven’t gotten a straight answer out of him.”
The thought sickened her. Her old boyfriend with her sister. Did Kevin have sex with both of them? But what possible motive could he have otherwise?
Her chest constricted as if fire seared her lungs. Bile crept up her throat from her still shaky stomach. Dragging in cleansing sea air, she forced herself to stop dwelling on all of that. She didn’t want to throw up again. Not in front of Jake.
She turned to him. “You going to let me read those reports?”
He was studying her as if perceiving her inner torment, but he said only, “Sure. Here you go. But much about the fires themselves is professional jargon.”
She skimmed the report. Arcane terminology like fire triangle and gas chromatography had her head spinning.
When she looked up, Jake was watching a lobster boat idling beyond the dock. The lobsterman and his sternman, both clad in waterproof overalls, winched up a trap dripping with seaweed. The trap would reek of rotten bait and contain creatures with snapping claws—not unlike what this investigation was uncovering.
“I yield to your expertise. Explanation, please.”
“The fire triangle is oxygen, heat, and a fuel source, or accelerant. Oxygen was plentiful in the open barn, with more openings to the upper story. Gasoline fires make black smoke, witnessed by the first firefighters to arrive. And they later found the gas can for the lawn tractor in the barn. Empty. No fingerprints.”
“That’s oxygen and the accelerant. And the heat source?”
“Matches and maybe also the oil lamp. But the accelerant’s where things get tricky. Complete information about the evidence didn’t make it into Tyson’s report. He launched an investigation, sketchy as it was. Mostly he talked to the firefighters, your family, me, and a few of Gail’s friends. He concluded that Gail started the fire by accident when she tried to light the oil lamp and knocked over the gas can.”
“What about the evidence?”
He held up a hand. “You’ll see. The state fire marshal at the time was satisfied, but he may not have seen all the notes. The heat source was a book of matches. Light one and set it near gasoline-soaked bales of hay and there’s a hell of a fire damned fast. But not before the arsonist can split.”
“But doesn’t the matchbook burn up in the fire?”
“There’s usually something, even minute, to nail down the fire’s origin, like at the Tyson fire. The burn pattern tells the investigator where the fire started, where to look. In the old fire, the burn patterns on the remaining timbers showed that the fire started in more than one place. Someone splashed gasoline around on three hay bales and the wall. The base of the matchbook remained as well.”
“What about the fire that killed Tyson? The same method, except for the C-4?”
“Close, but more in line with premeditation. The heat source was one of the most common used by arsonists—a lit cigarette attached to a book of matches by a thin wire. The cigarette gives the arsonist more time to escape before the fire explodes.”
She brightened. “What about DNA on the cigarette?”
“Report says there was no
ne. Another sign this guy knew what he was doing. Probably lit the cigarette without touching it to his mouth. Also, he came prepared with his own gasoline and knew how to make the fire spread faster—the C-4. What we don’t know is how he enticed Tyson out to the barn.”
The possibilities were too much to absorb. “Professional or pyromaniac?”
“Not necessarily either, but someone with experience. He’s done it before.”
“You think the same person started both fires.”
“Maybe. Hard to say. If he did, he learned more about fire starting in the past twelve years. Pyromaniacs don’t usually commit murder. The fire’s the goal. And sometimes the fire fighting and publicity. Deaths if they occur are a secondary outcome. But the C-4 connection to El Águila makes a firebug less of a possibility.”
“Tyson’s report obscured the truth.”
“He didn’t cover all the bases. Like asking the questions we’re asking now. Those kids would’ve cracked and named names if he’d interviewed them more than once. Pushed them a little. Maybe he was in a hurry to get the report done fast and retire.”
She managed a weak smile. “Then why was he killed? To implicate me?” If the killer wanted to keep her from questioning Tyson or throw suspicion her way, she was still responsible in some way for the man’s death.
“Good question. I want to run all this new info by Robichaud before I start supposing.” He pushed to his feet, stiffness cramping his leg before he evened out.
“Why not your smuggling task force?”
“This state guy is steady and logical. He’ll see the holes if there are any. He has an understanding of Maine people the task force doesn’t. Plus I like to keep in good with the fire marshal’s office. They’ll have this case before long. Then I’ll call my task-force contact.”
“Is there enough similarity to the old case?”
“I have no doubt the two fires are connected. If the first arsonist didn’t start the Tyson fire, he instigated it. And is somehow involved in the smuggling operation.”
The implications boggled her mind. “There could be more than one player.”
“A distinct possibility. I’ll mention it to Robichaud.” He held out a hand. “You ready? You shouldn’t be here alone. Our bad guy could sneak up on you from the woods.”
She placed her hand in his big, wide-palmed one and let him tug her into his arms. His kiss tasted of the salty breeze. His steadiness made her feel way too needy, too elated to be with him. How could she hang onto her tough-chick routine?
She tunneled her hands in his thick, wavy hair before pulling away. “I thought I was discredited and out of danger.” Well, if she didn’t count the attempted break-in. But that was before the news story.
“Don’t count on it. He’s probably watching you just in case.”
Her mouth flapped like a hauled lobster’s tail. “Um, there’s a man. I think he’s been following me.”
“What man?” His voice sharpened.
She hiked a shoulder in an attempt at nonchalance. “I don’t know. Ordinary looking. Middle aged, dark hair. I thought nothing of it. At first. Small town. You see the same people in the grocery store, at the post office, in the street.” But now her stomach tightened at the idea someone was tailing her. The nausea that had emptied her earlier twisted her middle.
“Where’d you see him?” Anger radiated off Jake. He fisted his hands as if he’d like to pound the guy. The hyper-protective attitude both irritated and thrilled her.
“First time was after I talked to Mike Spear. The guy turned away when I came out of the store. Then he was hanging around outside the inn after my lunch with Gail’s friends.”
He scraped knuckles over his jaw. “You need a keeper.”
He grabbed for her again but she danced out of reach.
“Maybe you should supply me with an Uzi so I’ll be ready for him in case he sneaks up on me here.” She struck a gun-toting pose, concealing her trembling.
“Honey, he’d whack you over the head and dump you in the water before you could turn around.”
Chapter 14
Along with interviews, Jake split his time checking on Lani and making notes on the reports. Any one was a full-time job, especially keeping tabs on Lani, who resented his interference, as she called it.
He put her objections down to her anxiety about depending on anyone and thanked God she was still in one piece. Spending time with her cheered him—whatever mood she was in. Go figure. If making sure she was safe was a side benefit, so be it. He tried not to think about what could happen if and/or when he screwed up.
Last night on the phone, she’d admitted the banister needed repairs, ones requiring a carpenter. She hired a guy who couldn’t start until mid July. A shaky banister was too dangerous to leave alone, Jake told her. He ought to be able to handle a simple shoring-up job like that. When she offered to steam lobsters, he made some dumb excuse.
So he arrived bearing tools and steaks for the grill. He insisted he needed to finish his notes and reports first and set up his laptop in the kitchen. While he worked, she painted walls and woodwork. They talked about everything from sports teams, which they agreed on, to politics, which they argued about. She fussed about his hovering but didn’t shove him out the door, so he was good, if horny as hell.
“What do you have against lobster?” Lani asked later as she set dishes on the wicker table outside. The aroma of grilling beef enveloped the porch. “Around here that’s heresy.”
“Hey, a lot of lobstermen don’t eat their catch.” He flipped the steaks. When she cocked an eyebrow, he lifted one shoulder. “Something about the chewy texture turns me off.”
“Good enough. Thanks for coming to fix the banister.”
The steaks were ready, medium rare for both. He deposited them on the platter and carried them to the table where she’d already placed a vegetable salad and baked potatoes.
After they finished eating and carried the dishes inside, he headed up the stairs with his tool kit.
“Jake, one thing.” She smiled sweetly from the foot of the stairs. “While you’re up there, you can check under the beds and in the closets for boogey men.”
Busted. “Your safety’s not the only reason I’m here, Lani.”
Her mouth quirked as if she didn’t believe him. Huffing a laugh, she disappeared back to the kitchen.
*****
Before Jake left, he made her swear to lock all the doors and set 911 on speed dial. Then, armed with a list of Gail’s old gal pals, she hit the phone. Before she could punch in the first number on her list, her cell rang.
“Hello, sweetie. I was afraid I wouldn’t get you.”
“Mom!” Lani nearly leaped to her feet. “Where are you?”
“Santorini,” Hope Cameron Nash’s voice sounded relaxed and happy. Lani pictured her tanned, smiling face.
“But it must be after midnight there. You party animal, you.”
Her mom laughed, musical like Gail’s and so unlike Lani’s hoot. “Hardly. The hike along the cliffs exhausted me because we kept getting lost in all the winding lanes. But I can’t sleep. Charlie’s playing Texas Hold’Em with some other men in the ship’s card room.”
“Sounds like an awesome time.”
Her mom expounded on the Aegean’s gorgeous islands, the friendly Greeks, the wine, the overabundant food, and trying to hold the waistline with walks around the deck. “Enough about the cruise. How’re you doing with the house?”
“I’ve gotten started with the painting.” Lani described the colors she’d chosen and the new locks—to modernize, a little white lie. She didn’t mention Jake or any of their—what would she call them?—challenges. “The dock is a loss. The kitchen’s okay but I have work scheduled later this month to install a new toilet in the upstairs bathroom and fix the banister.”
“It’s your house, so do anything else you think will make the house saleable. Your father said you don’t need to repay him for the costs.”
; Lani had no intention of taking Brody Cameron’s guilt money. “The repairs aren’t that costly. I’m okay. You have any other ideas?”
She made notes on her mother’s suggestions while she gathered her thoughts. She’d tried calling her father but could reach only voice mail. If the tension between them prevented him from wanting to take her calls, that stung. She would have to work around that. Somehow. But she wanted to know if what Jake had suggested was true.
Not that his questioning was the first time the issue had come up. She’d always discounted any excusing of her father’s desertion. Refused to listen, her standard routine. Playing tough had gotten her nowhere and hadn’t protected her except in her imagination.
But returning to the farmhouse revived memories—good ones along with the horrific one. The faded blotches where pictures had hung reminded her of happy summers. The time her father took two full weeks off. He taught her to ride and cheered when she trotted the pony with the proper seat. Every room held memories and images she’d not thought of in years.
She swallowed over the hard lump in her throat. “Mom, I want to ask you something. About...my father. About the divorce.”
From the silence, she imagined the older woman stiffening, bracing herself for round seventy-five. “What do you want to know?”
“What you tried to tell me before, about the reasons. He abandoned you...and me. But is there more?”
“Now?” Emotion clogged her mother’s voice. “You want to know this now?”
“It’s just, well, being here has me thinking.” The long-held issues were a gray cloud swirling inside her. Like smoke, the emotions couldn’t be controlled. “Mom?”
“When I get home, we’ll have a long talk, but I’ll tell you this much. He had trouble dealing with Gail’s death and your burns. And yes, there’s more. The fire and its aftermath only brought matters to a head.” She sniffed, as if stifling tears. “Here’s Charlie. He wants to say hi.”
Lani liked her step-father, but she didn’t want to talk to him. She wanted her mom to divulge the rest.
Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) Page 12
