Hidden Fire

by Jo Davis

  The captain looked up from a stack of reports on his desk, frowning, but in concern rather than annoyance. “Does this have something to do with your attack?”

  “It might. I just got a phone call and after I deal with this, it sounds like I might end up at the police station.”

  “Will you be back?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’ll try.”

  Sean waved him off. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered. It’s a slow day anyhow.”

  Relief made his knees weak. “Thanks, I appreciate this. I’ll make it up to everybody; I promise.”

  “I know you will.” He nodded. “Get out of here.”

  Grateful, Julian hurried for his car and fishtailed out of the parking lot.

  15

  Julian set his GPS for Grace’s work address, desperate to squelch the rising panic her phone call had brought. Shaking apple trees? What the fuck had she meant by that? He could only assume this had something to do with her representation of Derek, but he couldn’t guess what had gone wrong.

  Try as he might, he couldn’t get her fear out of his brain. The miles between them didn’t disappear fast enough to suit him.

  He arrived at a towering glass behemoth of a building in downtown Nashville, sparing the briefest moment of awe that the entire structure belonged to her father. He was less impressed when he had to circle the damned thing twice to locate the entrance to the parking garage. There was something to be said for a modest location like his own workplace.

  Luckily, he found a parking spot without much trouble, a lot of people being at lunch, he supposed, and took the elevator to Grace’s floor. Stepping out, he glanced around the spacious lobby area, searching for a clue where to go next.

  “May I help you?”

  A militant-looking older lady with a cap of short steel gray hair sat behind a desk, eyeing him up and down with suspicion.

  “I’m here to see Grace McKenna. She called—”

  “Oh! The uniform! You must be Julian, her fireman,” she said, waving a hand down a corridor behind her desk. “Where is my head? Alice, her secretary, told me to expect you. Down this way, dear, second door on your left. She’s expecting you.”

  “Thank you.” Despite his worry, he gave the secretary his best smile and made his way to Grace’s office. He paused to deliver a warning knock, then went inside.

  Grace spun around in her chair to face him. Her red-rimmed eyes widened and she launched herself into his outstretched arms, clinging like a burr.

  “You’re shaking, baby. Tell me what happened,” he urged, rubbing circles on her back.

  “Just hold me first,” she whispered, burrowing against his chest.

  “I can do that.” He held her tight, kissed the top of her head. Rocked her in the protection of his embrace, giving her his support. His unconditional love, even if she didn’t know it yet.

  After a few minutes, she pulled back and met his eyes, somewhat more calm, but still afraid. “I thought I was so smart, sticking it to Derek, and I did. But I also stirred up a hornet’s nest.”

  Taking her elbow, he guided her to one of the chairs facing her desk. He took the other and captured her hand, tightening his grip in reassurance. “How so?”

  She hung her head, training her gaze on the floor. “God, Julian, I could get disbarred for this.”

  Her words gave him a chill. “You? I find it hard to believe you’d be capable of getting yourself into that sort of fix.”

  “Believe it. I did something highly unethical, albeit justified, and now it might come back to haunt me.” She shook her head, as though not quite believing the whole thing herself. “After everything that’s happened to you, there’s not a doubt in my mind that Derek’s a sleaze at the least, a murderer at worst. I arranged it so Derek was forced to pay significantly more than what his accuser was asking for in damages to begin with.”

  “How the heck did you accomplish that?”

  “I—basically, the plaintiff’s lawyer and I fabricated a witness. Someone who supposedly went to the plaintiff’s lawyer and claimed to have damning information about Derek’s past and his twisted proclivities, which his lawyer would reveal in court if Derek insisted on taking things that far. It was just a hunch on my part, but I thought there was nothing to lose. If he was truly innocent, he’d insist on going to court because he’d know no one could have any such information.”

  “And you were right.”

  “Yes. You should have seen him,” she said, wringing her hands. “I thought Derek was going to have a stroke right here in the office. He was terrified of whatever this fictional witness might reveal, and he couldn’t settle out of court fast enough.”

  “I’ll bet.” Julian’s mind reeled at this. “You mentioned Warren. How did he take all of this?”

  “As you might expect. He was furious, very vocal in the beginning, and then . . . he got quiet. Like the kind of calm Hannibal Lecter shows before he gives his creepy smile and guts somebody.”

  “Jesus. He didn’t threaten you outright, did he?”

  “No, he and Derek left. I called the plaintiff’s lawyer, and then I broke for lunch and took the elevator down. Warren and Derek were in the parking garage, arguing. Or rather, Warren was reaming his son, yelling about who the witness might be. You or—or someone named Gruber. Warren also said that Derek has a lot more to lose than the amount he lost in the settlement.”

  “My God, honey, what have you stirred up?”

  “It gets worse. Warren told Derek something had to be done about his ‘inept lawyer’ and ‘that fucking firefighter.’ The last thing he said was if someone goes down for everything, it won’t be him.”

  Julian’s blood ran cold. There was no mistaking the threat to Grace, himself, and anyone else who crossed these mani acs. His mind whirled as he fought to remain calm. She was upset enough without his throwing his own fear into the mix. “Tell you what we’re going to do. Can you clear your schedule for the rest of the afternoon?”

  “I already did.”

  “Good. We’re going to see Shane, and you’re going to tell him what you just told me. Then we’ll stop by my place and grab a few of my things before heading to yours.”

  “You . . . you’ll stay with me?”

  “Try to get me to leave.” So it wasn’t how he’d envisioned parking his toothbrush in her bathroom, and maybe it wasn’t permanent. But her safety was more important than his pride.

  “Thank you.” Tears welled in her gorgeous eyes again.

  “Hey,” he said softly, brushing away a stray drop. “None of that. It’s going to work out, baby. Come on.”

  He helped her up and waited while she shut down her computer, retrieved her purse, and locked her office. He led her past the curious stares of her secretary and a few coworkers, but other than a couple of muttered good-byes, most people paid them no mind.

  “We’ll come back tomorrow and fetch your car.” She didn’t offer a single protest, and his fear increased. She was truly frightened and try as he might, he couldn’t come up with a way she might have misinterpreted what she’d overheard.

  At the police station, they had to wait a while to see Shane, who was out in the field but told the officer who called him not to let them leave.

  More than an hour later, he came bustling from the back, an apology on his lips. “I’m sorry, you two. Things have gotten hairy around here. Come with me.”

  The detective led them to his small office and gestured them into seats across from his desk as he took his own. “Why don’t you tell me what brought you by, and then I’ll share why you’ve saved me a trip to see you.”

  Julian put his arm around Grace and gave her an encouraging smile. “Go ahead. He’s here to help us.”

  Taking a deep breath, she began and left nothing out. When she finished, the detective had a stunned expression on his face—along with a hint of excitement.

  “That was either very gutsy or an incredibly stupid stunt you pul
led,” he said. “Either way, you’ve given me vital information to add to my case.”

  “Which is why you wanted to see me?”

  Shane picked up a ballpoint pen and chewed on the cap, nodding to Grace. “She’s up to speed, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nothing leaves this office.”

  “Understood.” His pulse quickened. Shane had something; he just knew it.

  The man flipped open a notepad, recapped the information he’d written—and the bottom fell out of Julian’s world.

  “San Antonio, Texas, 1994. Decomposed female victim found in a garbage bag in the Hill Country on the outskirts of the city, dismembered. Male victim discovered nearby, same MO, but he hadn’t been dead as long. In 1995, another male, same MO, found in another shallow grave outside the city. The second male was never identified.” He tossed the pad down, eyes lit. “Both less than five miles from the Vineses’ land. You, my friend, are a fucking savior.”

  He sure didn’t feel like one. In fact, he felt a little sick. “Can you arrest them? Those bastards need to be off the street.”

  “Not yet. This is all circumstantial, Julian. You lived there at that time, too, and I can’t arrest you,” he pointed out. “Living in cities where similar murders occurred more than a decade apart isn’t a crime. What we are doing is cooperating with the San Antonio police, getting permission from the present owners of the old Vines estate to thoroughly search the grounds.”

  “And if you find bodies?”

  He gave a tired laugh. “Wouldn’t that be damned convenient? Just find them piled in the basement? No, it’s a shot in the dark. Three victims were dumped away from the premises, so unless they broke their pattern, or really didn’t have one, I wouldn’t expect to find corpses awaiting discovery. But hope springs eternal. Perhaps they’ll find forensic evidence.”

  “If they do, will you be able to get a search warrant for their place here?” he asked.

  “Depends on whether the judge feels we have enough evidence. It’s a crapshoot, but it’s all we’ve got. Your stories will help, though.”

  “How long will the search take?”

  “Once they get in there? A day or two. They’ll go over every speck of the property with a fine-toothed comb. Should they find something, a few hours to get the warrant.”

  “We’re looking at three or four more days, then.” Julian longed to strangle Derek and his father with his bare hands. “That’s not good enough. This kid, Brett Charles, might still be alive, and maybe others, too.”

  “I’m doing the best I can, Julian,” he snapped.

  “Sorry. I know you are. This is just so maddening. They’re in this and now they’re threatening Grace, as well.” Touch her and die, fuckers.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for either of you to be alone right now,” he said, glancing between them.

  “I’m staying with her again, until this is resolved.”

  “Good plan.”

  Julian stood, taking Grace’s hand. “Let us know if something goes down.”

  “I will. And Julian . . . don’t do anything stupid. I mean it,” Shane ordered. “Stay far away from the Vineses—don’t so much as blink in their direction—or I’m going to have your ass. Understand?”

  “Perfectly.” Didn’t mean he’d listen. “They steer clear of me, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

  “Uh-huh.” The detective wasn’t convinced.

  “See ya.”

  Julian led them out and away from Shane’s penetrating stare. It was like the guy was clairvoyant and saw the half-formed idea in his mind. The really badidea. Which he would not act upon. Probably.

  “You never did get lunch, did you?” he asked as they slid into his car.

  “No, and I am a little hungry.” Her stomach growled to prove the point.

  “Same here. Why don’t we grab a couple of burgers at Stratton’s and go for a drive, unwind for a bit? Then we’ll go get my stuff.”

  “Sounds nice.” She gave him a sweet smile that warmed him all the way to his toes. And other areas, too. “The detective is right.”

  He glanced at her as he pulled out of the parking lot. “About what?”

  “You really are a savior.”

  “Ha! My sisters will tell you I’m a pest. Oh, and let’s not forget the guys on my team. Most days, I think they’d trade me for a cold beer.”

  “You sell yourself far too short,” she said, refusing to play along.

  “Nah, I’m about six one,” he joked.

  “Idiot.” Laughing, she gently smacked his shoulder.

  He loved seeing her violet eyes dancing and the tension drained from her posture, and he would do everything in his power to keep her distracted and happy.

  Stratton’s wasn’t too busy by the time they pulled in and went inside. At the counter, he ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and soft drinks to go, and fifteen minutes later they were on the road again.

  “Where are we going?” Peering into the bag, she snagged a fry.

  “It’s a surprise. There’s something I want to show you.” He tapped his hand on the steering wheel in nervous excitement, anxious to see her reaction. He drove out of Sugarland on I-49 for a few miles and finally spotted his destination.

  A little thrill shot through him as he made a left-hand turn onto the weed-choked rutted path that served as a driveway. A large FOR SALE sign hung on the rotted barbwire fence, faded and starting to rust, and he stole a look at Grace before pulling through the open gate.

  The rolling land was gorgeous, if shaggy with wild grass, dotted with towering trees, and graced by a secluded pond a ways farther down the path. He eased the Porsche along, over the bumps and ruts, thankful it hadn’t been raining or he’d never be able to get back there.

  “Wow, this is beautiful,” she breathed, surveying the place with an appreciative eye. “No house?”

  “Not yet. I know the land was used to graze cattle,” he said, gesturing to a feed shed and holding pen about fifty yards off, now falling in.

  “Well, this would be the perfect place to build one. The owner could do tons with this place.”

  “Yeah, it just needs a little TLC, and it’ll be great.” A slice of heaven, made even better shared with the right lady.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself, Romeo.

  He parked beside the pond, popped the trunk, and got out to retrieve a quilt from the back. Leaving the trunk open, he carried it to a nice spot next to the bank of the pond and spread it out, while Grace stood beside the car holding the food and drinks, amusement tilting her lips.

  “Do you always carry a quilt for spontaneous picnicking with your women?”

  Straightening, he splayed a hand over his heart. “You wound me! I’ll have you know that quilt is all-purpose, used for wrapping things I don’t want to get scratched by sliding around in the trunk and . . . and . . . well, okay. Making out.”

  She rolled her eyes and began picking her way through the grass. “There’s an image I needed.”

  “Jealous?” He puffed out his chest, pleased by the idea.

  “I plead the Fifth.”

  “Lawyers—can’t shoot ’em . . . ,” he muttered in mock disgust. Remembering his manners, he hurried over, took the bag and drinks. “Stay there.” He placed them on the blanket and strode back to her.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Here, put your arm around me.” Bending slightly, he hooked an arm around her back, one under her knees, and hauled her against his chest.

  “Wait!” She squealed. “Put me down!”

  “You want to ruin your fancy heels? Be quiet and let me show off.”

  She giggled, the merry sound, not to mention her body wriggling in his arms, her sweet scent teasing his nose, shooting straight to his cock.

  “I’ve never played hooky to picnic in the country in the middle of the day, wearing my best suit and three-hundred-dollar shoes.” She seemed pretty darned tickled about it, too.

  “Y
ou deserved a break.” He lowered her to the ground and plopped down beside her. “We both do.”

  “As long as it doesn’t culminate in us getting hauled in for trespassing, I’m game,” she said, kicking off her shoes. She pushed them to the edge of the blanket and dug into the bag, handing him his burger and fries.

  “We won’t. I’ve been here a half dozen times and nobody’s ever said a word. I was alone,” he added at her arch look. This, he noted, was met with smug pleasure. “Anyway, we’re hidden from the road and the neighbors, so we can enjoy all we want.”

  “I wonder how much land this is.” She unwrapped her burger and chewed in bliss.

  He did the same and swallowed before answering. “Forty acres. The owner put it on the market over a year ago, but the economy has been so bad, it hasn’t sold. He’s steadily cut the price in the last few months and . . . I have to admit, I’ve had my eye on it for a while.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful! Have you made an offer?”

  Her genuine enthusiasm touched him, bolstered his confidence. Revealing a dream to the most important person in your life—especially when that person was the one you hoped to share your dream with—was daunting. “I think I’m going to,” he said slowly. He realized he hadn’t admitted it, even to himself, until that moment.

  “Well, what’s stopping you? This is a fabulous place.”

  “At first, the price. But now? Nothing, I guess. I’ve just never made this big a commitment before—the put-down-roots kind. But now I’m ready.”

  “Honey, I’m so pleased for you.” She kissed his cheek. “I had you figured for more of a city man, but I can see I was wrong.”

  “Living in town is convenient, but the bustle gets old at the end of the day. I want a place that’s my kingdom, where I can be myself. What about you? Are you a city girl?” Damn, was that too obvious? He took a sip of his cola and ate some fries, trying to act casual.

  She shrugged. “I like living in Nashville. I suppose I’ve never really given much thought to a change of pace.”

  They finished their food and he struggled not to be deflated by her vague answer. But he couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned. Six-Pack had advised him not to push, and he wouldn’t. Yet.