“Can I ask you something, Detective Johnson?” Allie said, seeing him start to rise. “Do you think there’s some connection? Between the fire and Mr. Williams’s death?”
The detective settled back in his seat. “From what the fire marshal is saying, there’s a lot of old wiring downstairs that could have been the cause of the fire. Your recent activity down there might have triggered something. We won’t know anything certain for a few days. I just want to make sure we don’t overlook any possibility.” He said this in an even, comforting voice, probably to assuage any anxiety she was feeling.
She didn’t buy it.
“Thanks for your time, Mrs. McBride.”
“It’s Ms. McBride. And call me Allie.”
He smiled, a nice, warm smile that filled his whole face. No scowls—unlike someone else she could mention, who was heading over to her and looking quite menacing.
“I’m sure we’ll be in touch,” the detective said, and stood. He walked past Sam to the door where Jeremy was waiting. The two men headed out, deep in conversation.
Sam reached her table and paused to look at her closely. “You okay?”
Before she could respond, Claire took the seat next to her, her arm coming around her shoulder. “That was such a close call. If Sam hadn’t been down there with you, and you’d been locked in there all by yourself… I don’t want to even think about what could have happened.”
Hearing it said out loud like that, when Allie had barely been keeping the terrifying thought at bay… She shivered and looked up at Sam.
“It’s also possible,” he said, “if I hadn’t headed down with you, the door would have remained propped open, and you would’ve escaped as soon as you saw the fire.”
She puffed out a breath. “Maybe. Well, whatever the case…thank you.” She wished she knew what he was thinking, but his face was solemn and unreadable. He nodded again.
“I’m supposed to be going to dinner at Rick’s parents, but I’ve already left a message for him that I’m cancelling,” Claire said, referring to her fiancé. “I don’t think you need to be alone tonight. We can order in, watch some movies, and drink some wine. Lots of wine.”
“Absolutely not. I know how much planning has gone into tonight’s dinner, and how important it is for you. Besides, I’ll have Violet with me. I’ll be fine, really.”
Claire looked torn, but after another moment, slowly nodded. “Okay. But don’t forget our plans in the morning. I’ll pick you up around eight. Then we can swing by and get Molly.”
Oh, Lord. She didn’t even want to think about what her grandmother was going to say about all this when she heard. Claire’s phone rang, and she took a few steps away from the table to answer. Sam grabbed the open seat.
“You’re not a very convincing liar. And who is Violet?”
Damn. How did he know? It was Ryan’s weekend with their daughter, but she hadn’t wanted to put Claire out, so she had used the best excuse she could to ease her friend’s worry. “Violet’s my daughter.”
Sam’s brows crinkled up in surprise. “I hadn’t realized. Well, I’ll keep your little secret on one condition. You let me drive you home.” Allie opened her mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. “You don’t look like you’re in any condition to drive. You can barely hold that cup of coffee in your hands without it trembling. I don’t have any plans tonight, and I’d be happy to be of assistance.”
She still hesitated.
“We can worry about getting your car tomorrow,” he continued. “Besides, I thought we could also discuss what your plans are for Mr. Williams’s video. I’d place bets most of the records downstairs are now destroyed. Maybe we can think of an alternate plan. As for Jeremy’s assignment of putting together a centennial video”—his lips quirked up in a smile— “I’m assuming the fire was a godsend. You should be off the hook for that one.”
Allie couldn’t stop the gratifying smile that stretched across her face. He was so right. Thank goodness she didn’t have to worry about that unpleasant task anymore.
“Then it’s settled,” he said when he saw her smile. “I’m taking you home.”
Chapter Five
Allie’s small, red brick bungalow came into sight, and she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Lucky she had pushed past her abhorrence for yard work last weekend and cleared the lawn and surrounding flower beds of weeds and leaves. She wouldn’t want Sam to think less of her home than it deserved. It was no palace, but she loved it.
He pulled into the driveway. She grabbed her purse and the pizza they had stopped for and headed up the walkway to unlock the front door while Sam opened the trunk where they’d deposited the few boxes she’d first hauled out from the archives earlier that night. Before the fire.
She set the pizza on the counter and quickly surveyed her house to make sure nothing embarrassing had been left out. Because fire or not, she couldn’t shake off the one thought that had raced endless laps through her head the whole trip home.
Sam Fratto was coming to her house.
Ridiculous. All the same, she rushed over to her microwave where she kept a king-sized candy bar for her occasional chocolate-attacks and pushed it backward. It clunked as it hit the counter behind the microwave—well out of view.
Just in time. She heard his footsteps on the front porch. “You can set them in here on the kitchen table,” she called out.
He walked in, slid the two boxes onto the table, and looked around. “Nice place. Quaint. Two bedrooms?”
She gulped at the sight of Sam Fratto standing in her kitchen. Her stomach danced nervously. “Three, actually. It used to be my grandparents’. They had it built just after they were married, and they lived here until grandpa died, a few years before I was born.” She hung her keys on a hook by the coffee pot. “My grandma Molly stayed until four years ago, when she sold it to me and moved into the active retirement community a few miles from here. Coincidentally around the same time I split with my ex.”
“Ah. That was generous of her.” His lips curved up in a smile, and she tried to return his smile just as easily.
“I thought so. But any suspicions I may have had over her motives were soon dismissed when I saw how easily she threw herself into the activities at the center. Heck, Molly’s life is more active than mine, and she’s eighty-two. Let’s see…” She thought for a moment and came to stand next to him at the table. “Weekend bus trips to Wendover, Monday night bingo, bridge on Tuesdays, Saturday night Karaoke, and then there’s the senior volleyball that will be starting soon. So, her move wasn’t only the best thing for me and Violet, but apparently for her, too.”
Not to mention Molly’s love life, but Allie decided to spare Sam the gory details.
“Where’s Violet tonight?”
An odd sort of twinge pulled around her chest at the sound of her daughter’s name crossing Sam’s lips. She fiddled with a loose piece of cardboard on one of the boxes to try and distract herself. “At her dad’s. Ryan has her every other weekend and a couple nights during the week. I won’t see her until Sunday evening. I miss her like crazy when she’s gone, but I know she loves—and needs—the time with her dad.” She shook off the conflicted feelings and glanced up. “Do you want a glass of wine? I have pinot noir and merlot. Maybe a white, too.”
She was rambling again. But she couldn’t help it. It was nerve-wracking having Sam Fratto standing so near her. In her kitchen.
“Whatever you’re having is fine. I’ll go get the last couple of boxes.”
He stepped out onto the porch, pausing to take in the view of the Wasatch Mountains as the waning sunlight bathed them in purples and pinks. She could almost imagine his eyes crinkling at the edges as he squinted in appreciation of the view.
As did she. But not of the mountains.
His shoulders lifted as he inhaled, then he strode to the car. She came to stand at the doorway on the chance he might need her help. Something moved off to her right. Startled, she tur
ned in that direction, scanning the area for what it may have been. Nothing. She broadened her scope to the rest of the neighborhood, but it was quiet, save for a couple of birds chirping up in a tree. The evening air was pungent from the spring rain that had hit the valley a little earlier.
No doubt she’d just been imagining things and was possibly a little tightly strung from her earlier adventure. She went back inside. Sam seemed to have the boxes under control, and she could definitely use a glass of wine. She headed to the kitchen to remedy that situation.
She was taking a third sip of merlot, trying not to think about the strong, acrid odor of smoke that clung to her hair, when Sam settled two more boxes on the table before joining her at the counter. Even now, after being in his company the past couple hours, her belly still flipped at the sight of him. She took another gulp, glad for the calm that finally settled over her.
“Don’t know about you,” she said, “but I don’t think I could muster up any energy to look through those boxes tonight. I’m exhausted and starved. Maybe after I’ve had some pizza, I’ll be thinking differently.” But she doubted it.
“That sounds like a good idea to me.” He picked up the glass of wine she’d set out for him and took a sip. “How you holding up?”
“I think I’m still processing it.” She grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard. “Let’s go in the other room.”
Seated comfortably on the couch, one leg tucked under her, she took a long pull of wine, mulling over the evening’s turn of events as Sam dropped down uncomfortably close next to her. Strange how going through something so life threatening could make her feel so much closer to him—even if still electrified to be in his presence—when just this morning she’d been devising ways to avoid him. “Seeing as how my life is usually pretty predictable, I can’t seem to wrap my head around what happened to us tonight. Have you ever had anything like that happen to you before?”
“I had a couple uncomfortable encounters during my days as a journalist. Back when I was doing some investigative work into a drug cartel in Philadelphia.” He pulled a couple slices of pizza out and set one on each plate. “Meeting sources in the most disreputable areas of town led to a few chases of my own.”
She stared at the pizza he’d served her but couldn’t take a bite. “I know this whole thing probably lasted no more than three or four minutes, but it seemed like much longer. And you know the biggest concern that flashed through my head the entire time we were down there?” She met his gaze. “That I didn’t want to leave my daughter alone.”
Sam didn’t say anything, but he looked as if he got her mood and her need to talk. She was grateful to him—and the wine that was easing her anxiety—and found herself willing to share a little more. Something that she didn’t usually do with people until she knew them better. But she wanted him to understand why she was acting so emotional.
In a quiet voice, she continued. “I lost my mom when I was a little girl. I was five at the time, and it took me a long time to accept she wasn’t coming home. At night, I’d wait and wait for her to come in and tuck me in, to tell me a story like she always did. I hoped she would change her mind and come back to me. I thought it was my fault. I couldn’t understand that her death was…final.”
Sam settled his plate on the coffee table and moved closer, leaning forward to touch her cheek, a brief, feather-light touch that sent a shiver of pleasure through her body. “That’s tough. I’m sorry, Allie. How did she die?”
She caught her breath when his hand dropped back to his side. “Car accident. She was coming home from the grocery store when another car slid across some black ice. She was killed instantly. I think it was the unexpectedness of the whole thing that made it so hard for us. No warning. No time to say goodbye.” She sensed his steady gaze on her, probably waiting for her to cry, which she wouldn’t do. At least not in front of him.
He spoke softly. “Your reaction is perfectly normal. I had the same thoughts run through my mind with every dangerous assignment I took, the possibility I’d orphan my son. And today, too. It probably gave me the strength to kick that steel door in.”
She blinked up at him. “You…have a son? I didn’t know.” She snapped her mouth shut when she realized it had been hanging open.
Sam granted her a slight, lopsided smile. “Josh is twelve.”
She paused to process that information. “How did you do it? Put yourself in danger, knowing what could happen?”
“Believe me, it bothered me a lot. What would happen to him, who would take care of him? Even without getting locked in burning buildings, I have those moments of fear.”
“What about his mother? Wouldn’t she be there to raise him?”
His smile turned grim. “Hardly.” He stared at the wineglass still gripped in his hand, as if trying to decide something. Finally, he took a swallow of wine, and said, “Linda and I met our first year of college. She was pretty and smart, and she seemed crazy about me. Or, at least, the Land Rover my parents had given me for graduation,” he added dryly. “She assured me she was using protection, and being nineteen—well, I was young, stupid, and horny. What can I say? It was easier to believe her. I only had myself to blame when she ended up pregnant. She thought I would marry her. Expected it. But I had already seen what a disaster marriage could be without love. Bring a kid into that? No way.”
Wow. Had his parents’ marriage not been the picture of perfection she—and probably everyone else—had assumed? “What happened?” she asked.
“Linda stuck around for a while, until Josh was two. Then she took off to ‘find herself.’ I didn’t hear from her again until five years ago when she dropped a line mentioning she’d gotten married and moved to San Francisco. Said how sorry she was for abandoning us and that she wanted to see Josh again. Be part of his life. Long story short, Josh and I moved to San Francisco a few years ago so he could see her more often. Fortunately, Linda had grown up and meant what she said. In fact, Josh is staying with her now. It’s been tough at times, but I don’t regret it, not for a minute. Having Josh is the best thing that’s happened to me.”
A thick lump formed in her throat as she saw the warmth in Sam’s face as he talked about his son. “I feel the same way about Vi. And I think it’s amazing you raised your son all by yourself. Really. I’m a single mom, and that can be hard at times, but I can’t say I’m ever…alone. Far from it. Ryan is as much a part of Violet’s life as I am. And I have my sister, my dad, my Grandma Molly, and even Peg—my stepmom.” She laughed. “There’s support, is what I’m trying to say. Although… There’s something to be said for not having that same support follow your every move, letting you know what you’re doing wrong each step of the way.”
Sam’s face lit with amusement. “Yes. There is that, I suppose.”
The silence went on as they gazed at each other, and suddenly she was highly aware of how close he was sitting next to her on the couch. She could make out a thin, faded scar on his chin that was already darkened with stubble. He broke eye contact first, staring down at his hand as he flexed it in front of him.
“I need a refill.” He came to his feet abruptly and held up his glass. “Can I get you more?”
“Sure,” she barely managed to say before he sprinted into the kitchen. A minute passed, and she almost called out to him when he returned with the bottle. Without a word, he refilled her glass.
A car door slammed out front, and within a few moments, someone wriggled the front door knob. Sam stopped pouring, his body tense as he looked toward the entry. Allie rose, not particularly concerned, especially when she spotted her sister’s Honda in the driveway.
“Just a second,” she called out and turned to explain to Sam. “It’s my sister, Laney. She tried calling after hearing about the fire on the news, along with half my family. But since I was about to speak with the detective, I told her I’d call her back. As you can see, she’s not a very patient person.” When the doorbell began ringing incessantly, Allie yell
ed louder, “I said I’m coming!” Shaking her head, she hurried to the door and flung it open. “Hold your horses, would ya?”
“A fire? What the flipping heck is happening at that school of yours?” Laney cried and threw her arms around Allie. For a woman with three percent body fat, she had an amazing grip. “Murder and now arson?”
“I should probably go and leave you two to theorize,” Sam said and set the wine bottle down.
Laney jerked away from her and looked across the room. The smile of relief on her face evaporated, and her eyes widened, then narrowed. “You must be Sam Fratto.”
“Oh, sorry.” Uneasy at the fierce intensity in her sister’s eyes, Allie said brightly, “Sam, this is my sister, Laney. Laney, Sam.”
“Pleasure to meet you. Glad you can be here for Allie. She probably shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
If Sam had noticed the sudden chill in the air, he wasn’t letting on.
“And you’re the expert, huh?” Laney retorted. “I have a mind to tell you exactly what a selfish jerk I think you are, but I’m not going to sink to your level. You might print it in your next book.”
“Cool it, Laney. Sam saved my life,” Allie broke in with a cringe, using her best big-sister, chastising voice. “If he hadn’t been there to kick the door down, I’d be a toasted marshmallow about now.”
That seemed to touch a nerve, and Laney got all teary again. “Oh, Allie…”
“I’d better be going,” he tried again, this time moving more quickly toward the door. He didn’t look leery, fortunately, which she would have in his place. From the twitching of his mouth, she’d have guessed more…amused. “If you need me to help look through the boxes tomorrow, or give you a ride to your car in the morning, or whatever, just call me.”
“I will. Thanks again for your help, Sam.”
He raised his hand in farewell and headed out the door.
You Again Page 5
