One-Click Buy: March 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Alison Kent

  “I’ll take Brandy back for you,” he said dully, feeling the chill of winter though the air was warm with spring. “You head on up. You’ll sleep better on your own.”

  “Thanks, Deck,” she said. “For understanding.”

  He led the horse away, not understanding at all.

  13

  THE NEXT MORNING Callie woke, scratchy eyed, exhausted and missing Deck. She struggled to get up, shower and put on her happy face for the guests at breakfast. She felt heavy and sad and scared.

  She was on the porch watching the morning ride leave when a fire department SUV pulled up. Presenting her with a search warrant, the two investigators drove close to the annex, then headed in to examine the wreckage. They wore gloves and carried cans she assumed would hold whatever evidence they found.

  Evidence of arson? She hoped to hell not.

  Taylor had gotten her thinking about who might have a motive for arson. Valhalla was on a down cycle. She knew that. They might well want their money back. Finn had shrugged off her apology, telling her it would all work out. Was that suspicious? Or merely kind? Hell, anyone could be a suspect. A fire bug. A disgruntled construction worker. Garrett could be in a money mess. Dahlia hated the ranch. Would she sabotage it to get Callie’s father to sell? She had been the one who first saw the fire.

  For that matter, Deck wanted to buy the ranch. He could have started the fire to get Callie to sell to him.

  That kind of speculation was crazy. The fire was an accident due to the flammable materials in the annex. That was the obvious truth of it.

  She called Garrett, who promised to contact his insurance company right away. He swore they would work this all out. The Triple C’s insurance agent promised the claim would be processed as swiftly as possible, but she suspected them both of trying to soften the bad news.

  Callie got through the day as best she could, supervising the rest of the hosted activities, pleased to hear the guests rave about the food, the massages, the springs, the trail rides.

  If not for the fire, the event would had gone off perfectly. She couldn’t help thinking she could have prevented if she’d been more careful, slowed down, anticipated problems.

  Deck was helpful, but quiet. They both knew they couldn’t sleep together again. The feelings were too raw. Dragging it out would be like hanging around the terminal when a friend’s flight was delayed. Awkward and anticlimactic, a slow agony.

  The next day she was working over the books in the office when Jessica, her assistant manager, let her know Taylor was here to see her.

  He wore street clothes and looked sympathetic, so she assumed this was not an official visit. He sat in the chair beside her father’s desk. “How you holding up?” he asked kindly.

  “I’m okay so far. The insurance adjuster is due tomorrow. The fire investigators will interview us soon.”

  “So I heard.” He hesitated, then scooted to the edge of his chair, elbows on his knees. “I’m here as a friend, Callie.”

  “What is it?” she asked, ice water racing through her.

  “I’m hearing they think it’s arson. Multiple ignition spots. The fire burned fast and hot.”

  “Oh, my God. I don’t believe it. Who do they suspect?”

  “I hate to say this, Callie, but where were you when the fire started?”

  “I was asleep,” she said, shocked by his words.

  “And you have a witness?” Something sparked in his gaze.

  “I do. Yes.” Deck had been with her and she could tell Taylor surmised as much.

  “I assumed so,” he said coldly. “I suggest you hire a lawyer before you answer any questions. You don’t want to incriminate yourself. Same for your father.”

  “Why would we need an attorney? We did nothing wrong.”

  “Truth is in the eye of the prosecutor, Callie. What you need is a plausible explanation for your behavior and someone on your side who knows your rights.”

  “We have nothing to hide.”

  “Be smart. Be realistic.” He held her gaze.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said finally.

  “That’s good. And I have an idea that will help you.” He offered a fleeting smile. “I am prepared to make an offer on the back acres of your ranch. The land where the river is.”

  “Really?” This came out of the blue.

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a preprinted property sales form. “This is a generous offer and it should give you the cash you need to rebuild.” He pushed it across the desk. The boldly inked figure was high for raw land.

  She looked up at him. “Why would you do this?”

  “I’ve got a buyer for my complex, so I’ve got cash to invest. These acres would make great country club estates.”

  “But you’d have to get zoning allowances and deal with water rights.”

  “I’m prepared to handle all that.” He looked at her steadily. “I also have sentimental reasons. My great-great-grandfather used to own your ranch and thousands of acres around it. In his honor, I want it back. If I can solve your problem, too, it’s win-win.”

  “I see. That’s kind of you.” Why was she waiting for the other shoe to drop? Taylor had been nothing but helpful since she’d returned to town. But the hairs on the back of her neck were prickling. He had that odd look in his eyes she’d seen last night for a second. Calculating. Cold.

  “There’s something else you should consider,” he said. “This mitigates your motive for arson.”

  “How do you mean?”

  His smile was smug and wily, as if he couldn’t wait to let her in on some trick. “As far as anyone need know, we’ve been in discussion about this sale for weeks. That erases finance as a motive. Also—” He cleared his throat, looked down, then directly at her “—I’m prepared to forget you had varnish on your hands before the party.”

  “So? I moved the varnish cans. That doesn’t mean I tossed a match anywhere.”

  “I suggest you deny any knowledge of how, when or where those cans were moved. For your own safety.”

  “Why should I lie?”

  “Don’t give them any more rope to hang you with.”

  Callie was shocked. Taylor was offering to perjure himself on her behalf and urging her to do the same. The old Taylor would never cheat anyone. He even looked different now. Cynical, sneaky, bitter. She shuddered inside. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Think fast. This is a good-faith offer and I expect a good-faith answer. I’m considering other deals. I won’t wait long.”

  “I’ll let you know,” she said, standing, holding out the form to him.

  Taylor took it, but he shook his head. “This is no time to take risks, Callie. Do the right thing for everyone.”

  She walked him to the door. Closing it, she turned to rest against the wood to think. Setting aside Taylor’s creepy suggestion that she lie, his offer would go a long way toward rebuilding, no matter what happened with the insurance.

  And you can leave sooner.

  No. She didn’t dare think that. She had to do the right thing for the ranch. She would talk to Anita about the value of the land, whether the offer was decent, whether they’d make more money waiting. She would talk to her father and to Deck.

  One thing she knew for certain. She would lie to no one, no matter what Taylor said.

  DECK HEADED for the ranch house, since he was due to be questioned about the fire, along with Cal, Callie and Dahlia. He was irritated to spot Loft on the porch hassling Callie.

  He walked faster.

  “You get a lawyer like I told you?” Loft was saying when Deck bounded up the stairs.

  “I don’t need a lawyer,” Callie said flatly.

  “Hey,” Deck said. “What’s going on?”

  “Deck,” Callie said, sounding relieved. “The detectives aren’t here yet. Dad and Dahlia are waiting inside.”

  Deck glared at Taylor. “What are you doing here?”

  “Agency cooperation is the way we w
ork these days, cowboy.”

  “Go on inside, Callie,” Deck said. “I’ll watch for them.”

  She hesitated, as if to object, then went in.

  “Leave her alone,” he said to Loft.

  “Callie is an old friend. What’s between us is none of your business,” Loft said, so snakelike he practically hissed. “Why don’t you go back to the bunkhouse, chew some snoose? We’ll fetch you when you’re up.”

  Deck took a step closer. “You cause Callie any more grief or fear or, hell, give her one bad dream, I’ll come after you and they’ll need a thousand yards of fishing line to sew you up.”

  “You’re threatening an officer of the law?”

  “I’m promising a jerk he’ll get what he deserves. I don’t care how much tin you wear on your chest.”

  “Watch your step, O’Neill. I have friends.”

  “No. What you have are victims. This town deserves better than you.” There was too much play in Taylor Loft’s line and it was about time somebody reeled him in. Taylor was hassling Callie for some nasty reason of his own, and Deck was going to find out what it was and do something about it.

  BOTH TAYLOR AND DECK were red in the face and breathing hard when they brought the investigators into the office. They’d argued over her? Probably. She shouldn’t have left them alone, especially now that Taylor knew she’d been sleeping with Deck. Maybe she was lucky neither of them had thrown a punch. She had no time for their pissing match right now.

  The investigators were Detectives Carl Mann and Michael Wares. Mann, who seemed to be in charge, was tall, with a formal manner and clipped speech. His fleeting smiles seemed forced.

  Callie gestured toward the sofa, but Mann positioned a straight chair at the center of the table facing the sofa and sat in it before removing a tape player, notepad and pen from an attaché case. The case he placed precisely at his feet. He read from the pad, then looked up at her. “I’ll see Calvin Cummings first. Everyone else can wait with Detective Wares. Please do not discuss the incident. Chief Loft, you’re free to go. We’ll contact you if we need anything from your department.”

  That was that. The three of them left the office. She was glad when Taylor kept going, shooting her a last meaningful glance. Take my offer.

  Callie was the last to be interviewed. Her father, Dahlia and Deck came out of the office each in turn, her father looking puzzled, Dahlia scared and Deck irritated as hell. Callie’s heart pounded. Was truth in the eye of the prosecutor?

  Before she went in, Deck squeezed her hand, leaned in and murmured, “I’ll wait outside, so we can talk.”

  She nodded and went in. Her father’s office, usually cozy and warm, seemed cold and dangerous to her now.

  Barely greeting her, Detective Mann clicked on the recorder, announced who was present, the time and the purpose of the interview, then proceeded to scare the bejesus out of her. The first questions were easy: Where was she when the fire began? What did she see? What did she do? Did she return to the burn site after the fire was out for any reason?

  She answered completely, even telling him she’d ridden her horse to the site later that night just to look.

  Had she stepped inside? Had she’d moved any items for any reason? She told him no, but he stared at her coldly.

  He spent a lot of time talking about the varnish cans. She was completely honest, even telling him about the pampas grass and the shaky lamp ledges.

  He moved on to questions about the ranch’s finances, about Templeton Construction and Valhalla Investments. Did she know that Valhalla had pending legal judgments?

  No, she didn’t. A lawsuit was a hell of a lot worse than a down cycle, for sure, but she refused to believe Finn or his partners would commit arson.

  By the time the interview was over, Callie was damp with sweat and trembling with tension. The fears Taylor had planted in her mind were running wild. People were falsely accused of crimes all the time. Maybe she should have hired a lawyer.

  She walked the two detectives out, managing to be calmly polite. Detective Mann promised to be in touch. She watched the men drive off, then noticed Deck heading her way from the barn.

  She sank into a chair at a white wicker table to wait. Maybe he could make her feel better.

  “How’d it go?” he asked gently, sitting beside her.

  “They obviously suspect arson. They asked all these questions about finances and insurance and the varnish cans. I don’t know if they suspect me or Dad or Valhalla Investments or even Garrett Templeton, for that matter.”

  “They have to cover all the bases, Callie. They have protocols to follow, even when no crime has been committed. They’re just being thorough.”

  “Maybe Taylor’s right. Maybe we should have hired an attorney. Truth doesn’t always win, you know.”

  Deck made a disgusted sound. “What is Taylor after, Callie? There’s a reason he’s trying to scare you.”

  “He’s trying to help me,” she said, but faintly, since she’d begun to have her own doubts.

  “Yeah?” Deck demanded.

  “He offered a lot of money for the land by the river.”

  “Really?” He considered that. “The offer was high?”

  She nodded. “I think so. I have to talk to Anita.”

  “What’s he up to?”

  “He thinks it would make a good development project. His family used to own the land, so it’s in honor of his family.”

  Deck sneered.

  “Cut it out. You hate the man, I get that. I have to be practical. If he buys those acres, I can hold on to the ranch until the insurance comes through. If it comes through. That might be the smartest move I could make.”

  “See how the investigation plays out first. Find out about the insurance. Don’t do anything hasty.”

  “He wants an answer right away.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  She shrugged. “He’s looking at other properties, too.”

  “He’s pressuring you. The offer’s high for a reason. Get the facts first. Don’t act out of desperation.”

  “But I am desperate, Deck. I haven’t run the numbers, but without some cash fast, we’ll be too far down to recover.”

  “I’ll loan you the money,” he said, low and serious.

  “Deck. You don’t mean that.”

  “I do mean it. I wanted to buy the place, remember? Consider me an investor. Pay me back down the line.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t take your money. You should buy your own ranch, not rescue ours.”

  Deck blew out a breath. “Let me get this straight. You’d give away a valuable piece of the ranch to that asshole, but you won’t take a loan from an honest guy who cares about you?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Let me help you, Callie. It’s what I want. You can pay me interest if you want.”

  She let the possibility trickle through her. If Deck loaned her the money, she’d have time to evaluate the worth of those acres. Something was odd about Taylor’s offer. She didn’t like how he’d wrapped it around the lies about the fire.

  “I don’t know when I can pay you back. You’d be tying up your money for an indefinite time.”

  “Interest rates stink now, anyway. I consider it a long-term investment.” He smiled at her in that way he had.

  Her heart tightened and she blurted, “This can’t change anything between us. I’m still leaving.”

  “Excuse me?” His face colored, and anger flashed in his eyes. “You think I offered you the money so you’ll stay?”

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m just—”

  “Leaving. Yeah. You said that. I get it.” He looked away. His jaw muscle twitched and he remained that way for long seconds. He seemed to be pushing back harsh feelings.

  When he spoke again his words were soft. “You’ve built something here, Callie. Why not see it through?”

  “I am seeing it through.”

  “You seem happy here. Why
not stay?” The words came out tightly, as if he’d held them in his throat for a long time.

  “Deck…” How could he ask that? This was like his last-minute drunken demand she not leave for college. “My life is in New York. My work. My future.”

  “You could have a good life here,” Deck said, his voice urgent. “You said yourself New York wears you out. You feel better here. I can see it in your face. You’re more relaxed, more yourself.”

  “What are you talking about, Deck? I’m not some quiet country girl content to ride a porch swing every night. That’s your fantasy.” Anger speared her.

  “You’re running away again,” he said.

  “Again? I left for college. I wasn’t running. And, for that matter, you broke up with me. If you wanted me, why did you push me away? Then wait until I was leaving to get plastered and tell me you wanted me?”

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said stiffly.

  “At least it was honest. You shared your real feelings. I guess I should be glad for that. Maybe I’m running, but you’re hiding. You hunker down at the ranch like it’s a cave.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Sure it is. Why can’t you come to New York? You could rent a studio, you could paint.” It sounded far-fetched, but it was an important point.

  “What I want is right here,” Deck said.

  “And what I want is out there.”

  “Really? You want crowds, grime, traffic, expense, social chaos, an insane pace.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” The joke was her only defense against the emotions boiling in her and it fell flat.

  It had cost Deck to say what he’d said, to admit what he wanted. They stared at each other, breathing hard, both of them upset.

  “You can’t even admit the truth.”

  “Don’t you dare act superior,” she snapped. She wasn’t sure why she was so furious. Because he was being smug? Because he’d asked too much? Because it was over?

  Because she ached and ached?

  “We both had a tough lesson, Deck,” she said, barreling into the fight with both feet. “We saw how fragile life can be. The people you love can be gone like that.” She snapped her fingers. “But you don’t lay back and lick your wounds. You get up and move on. You put yourself out there. You try.”