by Burton, Mary
“Smells good,” she said.
“I cooked yours medium rare. You still eat it that way?”
“I do.”
“And no cheese, right?” he asked as he reached for a stack of individually wrapped slices of orange cheese.
She shrugged as she stood next to a chair at the island. “As I’ve grown older, I’ve become more open to cheese.”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“Can I help you with anything?” Joan asked.
“Get whatever you want to drink out of the refrigerator and then pick a seat.”
“Will do.” She opened the refrigerator. “What can I get for you and Kyle?”
“Beer for me and milk for Kyle. He’ll be down in a minute.”
She snagged two cold bottles of beer and the carton of milk. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with milk. After she’d set the milk glass on the table, she twisted off the beer tops. She handed a beer to Gideon. “Where is he?”
“Finishing up homework.”
“How’s it going with the investigation? Any updates on the Halperns’ financials?”
Gideon carefully peeled off the first cheese’s plastic wrapper. “A couple of financial reports came in today. The Halperns have countless credit cards and have been moving balances from one to the other. They are up to date on the minimum payments.”
“What about insurance?”
“The salon is insured for up to two million dollars.”
Joan sipped her beer. “Dan saw Darren with Lana at the diner late last week. When I went to see Darren, he said Lana wanted to give her notice.”
Gideon paused, the fingers of his right hand curling and flexing. “You talked to Darren?”
She took a pull on her beer, ignoring the tension humming under his words. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” She grinned.
“Joan, this is my investigation. You are a guest.”
“You can be mad, or you can listen. I don’t have a lot of time in Missoula and can’t waste an opportunity.”
He drew in a slow, steady breath. She knew he was still pissed, but he was also too practical to ignore good evidence. “Did Dan give you any idea why he despises Elijah?”
“Seems there was an arson incident back in high school. Someone torched Dan’s new truck. He reported it, but the police never linked it to Elijah. You must have known Dan in high school.”
“Yeah, sure. He played ball along with Clarke and me.”
“What was he like?”
“Dan was a hotshot in those days. That truck was a gift from his dad because Dan caught a winning touchdown. Turned him into a town hero for a couple of months. He had big dreams, but after high school, he ended up working at the diner.”
“He used to talk about his glory days when I worked with him.”
“Dan understands that he needs to stay clear of Elijah, correct?”
“I strongly encouraged him to give us time.”
“And will he?”
“For now.” Joan’s gaze was drawn to Gideon’s wrist and his black watch face. The sweep-second hand ticked past the date, reminding her that her time here was fading. “Don’t suppose the medical examiner received any preliminary DNA results on the fetus?”
“Not yet. He’s fighting the backlog at the state laboratory.” He sipped his beer. “I was able to pull up a text message chain between Lana and an unknown boyfriend.”
“Really? Is he here in town?”
“Seems that way. She was threatening to expose their affair. This was early last week.”
“For what it’s worth, my theory is fairly simple. Darren starts an affair with Lana, she threatens to tell the missus, and he decides to kill two birds with one stone.”
“Great theory, but he was in Chicago at the time of the fire,” Gideon said.
“According to whom? His wife? Maybe she liked the idea of taking care of two problems at once.” She rubbed her thumb against her index and middle fingers. “Money, money, money.”
“She’s provided me with a list of places where they were in Chicago, as well as credit card receipts.”
“Do you have security footage at these establishments corroborating the purchases? Otherwise, anyone could have swiped their credit cards for them.”
“I’m working on that. I’ve been on the phone most of the day requesting security footage.”
“The DNA of Lana’s baby will be the ace in the hole.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The boy’s heavy footfalls reminded Joan of how her dad’s liquor bottles would rattle when she raced in after school.
Kyle hurried into the room as Gideon was pulling a sheet pan of french fries from the oven. The boy washed his hands and, drying them quickly, tossed the towel in a ball on the counter. He plopped in his chair with a big grin.
She was tempted to assign him the nickname Bamm-Bamm but decided to keep her distance, knowing she was leaving on Sunday. They each grabbed burgers, fries, and whatever condiment seemed to suit. Ketchup was the winner, hands down.
As they ate, she listened to Kyle chatter about his day as Gideon asked pointed questions that displayed real interest in his son’s life. She remembered now why she had been so drawn to the Bailey family, and most especially Gideon. What would it have been like if Gideon had gotten her pregnant and Kyle was their child? She quickly chased away the answer.
“Nate just texted me a picture of the burned shed,” Kyle said.
Joan had been careful not to question Kyle about Nate, knowing Gideon would be as touchy as Ann had been when she’d interviewed Nate. But she was paying close attention.
Gideon cleared his throat as he grabbed a french fry. “What did he say?”
“Not much. He said it’s still warm in spots.”
“Yeah,” she said easily. “It was tough to put out.”
“That’s what Nate said.” His tone was a mixture of wonder and skepticism. “He said the hose almost didn’t reach all the way.”
She let the boy’s comment dangle like bait for Gideon. She had promised not to tell, but if Nate had told Kyle and Kyle told his father . . .
“How much of the fire did Nate see?” Gideon asked.
“He didn’t start it,” Kyle said.
“Okay.” Gideon’s gaze immediately shifted to Joan. “Did Nate see how it started?”
“Nope, he was just outside and saw it go up.”
“What was he doing outside, pal?” Gideon asked.
Kyle shrugged as if he realized he might have said something wrong. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, you do,” Gideon said.
Kyle dropped the last half of his burger to the plate. He looked as if he might argue but then sighed. “When he can’t sleep, he goes to the firepit and hangs out.”
“Does he set fires?” Gideon asked.
“No,” Kyle rushed to say. “Aunt Ann would kill him.”
“Yes, she would,” Gideon said.
“Why does he like the idea of setting fires?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Is he in trouble?” Kyle asked.
“No, he’s not in trouble.” Gideon shifted the conversation toward sports, and soon the three were arguing the merits of the Denver Broncos versus the Philadelphia Eagles.
When Kyle asked to be excused and cleared his plate, Joan sat, feeling all Gideon’s unasked questions bubbling below the surface.
“You didn’t tell me Nate was outside before the fire,” he said.
“Ann asked me to keep it between us.”
He was quiet for a moment, staring at her with an expression reserved for suspects. “I understand the need to protect your own child. Ann loves Nate. And we all know he’s bright as hell, a little quirky, and we all love him. He and Kyle are best friends.”
“I’m waiting for the but.” She sipped the last of her beer, knowing she would soon need another one.
“I know Nate loves the bonfires at the games. I admit, there’ve been time
s I thought that was the only reason he came.”
“His dad’s a firefighter. Makes sense, I suppose.”
“Joan, did Nate set that fire?”
Joan had asked herself that question a dozen times since last night. “I don’t believe so. He thought he saw someone run off into the woods.”
“He saw someone?”
“That’s what he said. He didn’t see the person’s face and can’t identify him.”
“It was a man.”
“He thinks so.”
“And Nate was outside because he has trouble sleeping?”
She thought about Elijah in college and all the reading he did at the diner when he could not sleep.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.
She met his gaze head-on. “You know everything I know.”
“Bull.”
She shrugged. “I can’t help it if you don’t believe me.”
He sat back, still regarding her. “Elijah’s warden sent me the letters he had on file from the women who wrote him.”
She folded her arms. “And?”
“You wrote to him a few days after the Newport fire.”
“I’ve written to him plenty of times. Feel free to read all of them.”
“I’ve read a few.”
She arched a brow. “And what was your impression?”
He dodged the question. “Why did you write him?”
A half smile tugged at the edge of her lips. “Like I’ve said. Insight.”
“His letters offered insight into your case?”
She rubbed her temple with her fingertips. “And that’s when I cut off contact.”
“Do you want to talk about the Newport case?”
“Why? The charges against Avery Newport have been dropped. I gambled that an arrest and an interrogation would get me a confession. Instead, they got me a suspension.”
“We’ve all miscalculated. It makes us human.”
Her gaze softened, and for a second, he saw the woman who had trusted him and loved him until he had left her behind in a fire. “That still doesn’t make it acceptable.”
Jessica Halpern had been ignoring the cops and her husband all day. And now, as she drove up to the mountain cabin, far out of cell service, she could finally get a status report. She was anxious to see him and ask what the hell she was supposed to do about Gideon. The detective was digging deeper into the fire than she had ever expected. The cops had not announced the identity of the fire fatality, but she knew it had to have been Lana.
Too bad for Lana, if she was the one who had gotten cooked in the fire. The girl reminded her a little of herself at that age. She knew how to cut hair, she had a knack for hair color, and she was ambitious. But when she was not working, she was stirring shit up and creating problems among the other girls.
She parked, leaving the car engine on and the headlights shining on the rustic cabin that had been built as overnight lodging for hunters. Heat came from a wood-burning stove, and the water source was the stream that she had passed a few hundred feet below the cabin.
When she and Darren had married, they had shared a weekend here. To say it had been fun would be a lie. Both were in serious creature-comfort detox within the hour, and even though Darren kept the fire banked high, it had been one of the coldest nights of her life. They had packed up first thing the next morning and returned to town. Still, she had not gotten around to selling the place, because there was no better place to meet in secret.
She honked the horn three times, their signal that it was her.
A figure passed in front of the window, and the front door opened. He stayed back in the shadows just out of reach of her headlights. All this cloak-and-dagger shit annoyed her. They both had a reason to keep their mouths shut, so hiding in the shadows seemed unnecessary. She shut off the engine.
“Come inside,” he said.
She grabbed the paper bag on the front seat and walked to the open front door. “Do you have my ring?”
“I do.”
“The last thing I need is for the cops to figure out that Lana was wearing my ring.”
“She promised she would keep our engagement a secret.”
She chuckled. “Really? You give a rock to a girl like that, and you think she’s not going to tell anyone?” For the first time, he looked slightly dumbfounded. Men. “We need to wrap up our business. It’s cold, and I want to get back to town.”
“I have something for you.”
She held up the paper bag. “This is for you, as we agreed upon. Now, give me back my ring.”
He fished the ring out of his pocket and held it out. When she stepped toward him, she had to look up to meet his gaze. She was tall for a woman and liked a good-size man.
He took her hand and carefully threaded the ring on her finger. His calloused touch sent a ripple through her, and she remembered how good those hands had felt on her body. If only she had time for a session between the sheets.
He grabbed her by the wrist, tightened his hold. He was not hurting her, but he was showing her who was boss. She had always liked it when he manned up.
“Let go of me,” she said.
He yanked her toward him until her breasts were pressed against his chest. His hot breath brushed her neck, and she knew his gaze had dropped to her full cleavage.
“Step inside,” he ordered.
His voice had a smoky quality that made her tingle a little. Every time they fucked, it was always so good.
Thrusting her lip out into a small pout, she flicked her head back as she traced her finger down the center of his chest. “What are we going to do inside?”
“Find out.”
He turned and went into the cabin, confident that she would follow. And she did. She liked what the wild woods did to him and what he then did to her.
The interior was dark except for several flickering candles on the hearth of the large woodstove that dominated the cabin’s single room. He closed the door behind her and took her hand in his. He pulled her toward the small bed in the corner of the room, and she willingly lay down and angled her body up on pillows. The moonlight caught the contoured edges of his face as he straddled her. She ran her hands up and down his hard thighs.
“I don’t have long,” she said.
“This won’t take any time at all.”
Before she could question him, he’d wrapped his hands around her neck and had begun to squeeze. They had played games like this before, but this time was different. He was rougher, and there was a darkness in his gaze she had never seen before. “What are you doing?”
He smiled and squeezed tighter. “Killing you.”
She waited a beat to see if this was just another twist to one of their past fantasies. But as the pressure grew tighter and her air supply stopped, survival instincts took over. She arched back, connecting her knee with his groin.
He grunted while his grip slackened enough for her to roll toward the edge of the bed. “This is not funny,” she gasped.
“It’s not meant to be.” Pain strained his voice, even as he recovered quickly.
As her feet hit the floor, he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her back. “Stop it! You’re hurting me.”
“You never complained before,” he said. He was enjoying this.
“You were never like this before.” Panic echoed from every syllable. She struck out, connecting the flat of her hand with his jaw.
He grinned and pinned her arms down with his legs. She tried to sit up, determined to bite and scratch to stop him. She just needed to get out of there and to her car.
“What the hell?” she shouted. “Why are you doing this? We are on the same side.”
“I can’t have you telling.” He punched her hard in the mouth, snapping her head back. The pain was blinding, and she could feel her grip on consciousness slipping along with the pain.
The blow stunned her. Her anger vanished as fear took hold. She tried to free her hands to claw his eyes, but he dr
ove his knees deeper into the flesh of her arms.
His hands came around her neck again, and this time she felt him grow hard. Was this a game for him? He’d had trouble getting it up the last time. God, she prayed it was a game.
But his grip banded her neck like a vise, and again her airflow stopped. She stared into his eyes, seeing a grim determination. As the seconds passed and the pressure intensified, she realized she had gambled with the devil and lost.
He stepped outside the cabin, his heart striking his chest like a boxer’s fist. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he thought about Jessica and his hands around her throat. “Damn, it was better than sex.”
He hurried to the trunk of his car and grabbed three gallon-size plastic jugs of gasoline and then started in the bedroom, carefully dousing her face and body with the gasoline before he trailed a stream of it through the living room and out onto the porch. He opened all the cabin windows, knowing his fires fed best on a large supply of fresh air.
“You pushed too hard, Jessica,” he said. “You made too many demands and forgot who was really in charge.”
He stood over her lifeless body, perhaps a little sorry he did not get some before offing her. Gently, he lifted her hand and stared at the ring that he had used to convince Lana they were on the same side, so she’d stay quiet.
Once outside, he backed up a good dozen feet and lit the gasoline trail. The blue-and-white flame sprinted along the accelerant up the porch stairs and into the open front door. He fished a camera from his car and trained it on the fire, documenting the way the flames grew taller and angrier.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Missoula, Montana
Thursday, September 10, 2020
6:00 a.m.
“A call came in from Darren Halpern,” Becca said over the phone.
Gideon shifted the phone to his left hand as he rose up out of his bed and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. On a typical day, he should have gotten another half hour of sleep, but typical was rare in his line of work.
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What did he say?”
