Burning Love

by Debra Cowan

  "So as not to tip his hand?"

  "Maybe."

  She glanced at the evidence bag he held. "Whoever sent this bouquet killed Harris. Shouldn't I have noticed the pattern before?"

  "Why? Until now, the arsonist has given no clues except what you've found at the fire scenes. Plus the flowers seem unrelated until you examine the deliveries in relation to the dates of the fires."

  "I guess so. I don't like missing things, though. What if I'm missing something bigger right now?"

  "We'll figure it out. Listen, since you need to see the mayor, I'm going to take this florist's card over to the lab and run it for prints. On my way, I'll drop by and ask if the florist has a record of the sale. I also want to do some checking into Reynolds' background. Are both yours and Darla's prints on file?"

  "Yes."

  "There's also someone else I want to check out."

  "Another suspect? Who?"

  "Someone who has an obvious grudge against you."

  She frowned, shaking her head. "You're coming up with a lot more than I am."

  "She's extremely jealous."

  "Cecily?" Terra exclaimed. "She couldn't possibly have the knowledge to be an arsonist, to set those lightbulb plants and the timers."

  Jack shrugged. "She could've picked up any number of things being married to a fire investigator."

  "But she wouldn't kill Harris. She loved him. To the point of suffocation, yes, but she did love him. You saw her last night. She was devastated about his death."

  "The grieving widow act could be just that."

  A sick look flashed across her face. "I guess so."

  "It gives us a place to start. Her motive could be revenge."

  "On me?"

  "Or Harris for dumping her."

  "But why would she set fire to the other places? Or why would Dane Reynolds, for that matter?"

  "That's why they call it an investigation."

  Her face paled and Jack caught a glimpse of that same vulnerability he'd seen in her eyes last night. The same vulnerability that had put a hard-boiled knot in his chest.

  "What about viewing the tapes?" he asked. "I won't be free until after five. I'm on call for court."

  Her gaze skimmed over him, sparking a hum in his blood. "Don't you have to wear a tie?"

  He patted the pocket of his navy suit coat. "It's in here. I could meet you back here around six or so."

  She looked uncertain. "I was going to take the tapes home and watch them. My heater conked out a couple of days ago and I have a repairman coming."

  Thanks to the repairman, he and Terra wouldn't be alone. "Mind if I drop by your place? I'd really like to view the tapes with you in case I have questions about fire scene procedure."

  She hesitated then nodded. "That would be fine. What about seven o'clock?"

  "Sure." He jotted down her address and slipped his notebook back into his coat pocket. Going to her house, seeing how she lived, wasn't blurring the lines he wanted to draw between them. The tapes they would be watching were business, not porn. Besides, the quicker they moved on this case, the faster they could get it in the can and go their separate ways. "I'll see you later then."

  "All right." She was already turning away, going through a folder on her desk.

  He didn't want to feel anything for her, but last night he had. Something hotly unsettling, something primal and damn tempting. Desire.

  He didn't like it. She tweaked all of his senses—just a notch, just enough to feel an uncomfortable stretch across his chest. No one had done that since Lori. And he certainly didn't need to feel this way about a woman who walked through flames, a woman who was supposed to be strictly his partner on this case.

  He needed to keep a lid on these feelings, but he certainly hadn't counted on it being this challenging.

  He told Darla goodbye as he walked out the door. He'd wanted to believe the protective instinct that had nagged him like a hangover since last night had been a result of Cecily Vaughn's brutal words to Terra. He understood how hard it was to do your job when someone you loved was the victim.

  But he wasn't into lying to himself. He was interested in Terra August—at least his body was—but he wasn't going to act on the little buzz he got just by being in the same room with her. A murder investigation was at stake here and he knew neither of them wanted or could afford to be distracted.

  * * *

  Jack Spencer would be here any minute. And the repairman had just left. Terra prowled around her oversized leather chair and ottoman, rounded the matching chestnut sofa, trying to calm the shimmer in her nerves. She'd wanted to ask Lefty to stay, tried to think of something besides the heater he could check, but that was silly.

  Earlier in her office, the concern and flare of fierce protectiveness in Jack's eyes when she'd handed him the card Darla had discovered had made her stomach do a funny flip. She knew that flip had nothing at all to do with the case, only the man.

  Something insistent and strong stirred between them, something she hadn't been able to ignore last night when his hands had lingered on her shoulders. Something she hadn't been able to completely channel out of her mind today. Terra knew she should run from the man who was reawakening feelings in her she'd sworn to never trust again, feelings that had filled her with a sense of safety and confidence. Feelings that had been based on a relationship that was an illusion. What she needed from Jack Spencer was distance, but there was no chance she'd walk away from the man who could help her find the arsonist who'd murdered Harris.

  Ditching Spencer wasn't an option. Her instincts were blaring at her to watch her step with him, and she would. She could do whatever was necessary in order to find Harris's murderer, even if it meant ignoring her emotions and spending twenty hours a day with Detective Yummy.

  She needed to keep her focus on the investigation.

  Wondering if Jack had eaten yet, she had just checked the refrigerator to see if she had anything to offer for supper when her doorbell rang.

  She opened the door, her pulse skipping slightly at the six-foot-plus hunk of man leaning against her doorjamb, balancing a steaming pizza box on one hand.

  He'd looked handsome earlier today in his navy suit and now he looked…rugged. Delicious. Her pulse hitched at the intensity of his blue eyes. His white button-down shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, showing tanned skin and the faint shadow of hair. His patterned tie was gone, as was his suit coat. His shirtsleeves were rolled back just enough to show the dark hair on his wrists. He had strong, broad hands with blunt, clean nails.

  She invited him in. She didn't need to be thinking about his hands or his piercing blue eyes. Jack was coming to her house only to work. Even if they'd met at her office, they'd still be alone together. And she'd still feel this acute flare of interest whenever she saw him. A degree of interest and curiosity she hadn't felt since Keith. Even worse, her ambivalence about it was underlaid by a hard throb of awareness.

  He stepped inside and shut the door. "I didn't see a repairman's truck. Were you stood up?"

  "He left a few minutes ago." Heat flushed her cheeks, but she refused to let on about the way her nerves jumped when Jack's gaze lasered into hers.

  "So, your heater's working now?"

  "Lefty says yes." She smiled, but the words felt stilted and heavy. Jack didn't look any more comfortable than she felt.

  He lifted the box. "I brought pizza. Hope you haven't eaten."

  "No, I was just looking for something."

  "You like pepperoni?"

  "Love it, but you didn't have to do that."

  "Hey, you brought the movies. It was the least I could do."

  She knew cops, like firefighters, dealt with death by putting it right out there. He wasn't making light of Harris's death or the reason he was here. He was getting the subject out in the open so she could talk about it if she wanted. She didn't, but her heart did that funny flip again at his thoughtfulness.

  "Want a beer?" she asked.

  "Better
pass. I need to be clear when we're watching these videos, try to grasp what you tell me as you lead me through the crime scenes."

  "How about iced tea?"

  "Great." He followed her across the living room carpet and into the kitchen, placing the pizza box on her small rectangular table.

  Conscious of the man who watched her steadily, she moved the teak bowl filled with decorative fruit from the center of the pecan table and turned toward her cabinets. Even though Jack looked relaxed and the most unguarded she'd seen him, she felt an urge to smooth her fingertips over the deep furrow between his brows, try to erase the tinge of sadness that accompanied the fatigue in his eyes.

  Good grief. They were here to work, period. Terra put two plates on the table along with napkins. They both dug in and didn't speak for several minutes. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. Or how on edge she felt about being alone with him. But he was all business and that would help her to do the same.

  "How was your meeting with the mayor?" Jack reached for his third piece of pizza.

  "Fine. I brought him up to speed on the investigation, confirmed this latest fire was started by the same person who started the other three with lightbulb plants."

  "Did you tell him about the card with the most recent delivery of flowers?"

  "Yes." She'd been trying to keep her pulse even all afternoon. Her appetite suddenly gone, Terra put her second slice of pizza, half-eaten, back on her plate. "Did the florist have a record of the sale?"

  "Yes. The flowers were paid for in cash, but the owner's teenage daughter handled the transaction. She couldn't remember if the customer was male or female."

  There was no sense getting tied up in knots until she had more information, but she had a bad feeling all the same. She couldn't discount Jack's theories about Cecily or Reynolds. Today when she'd seen that card, she'd been swallowed up by a vulnerability that locked her breath in her chest. A gaping uncertainty she hadn't felt since the day her grandfather had died. She'd needed reassurance, steadying, and Spencer had given it without her asking, taken quick charge of the evidence and the situation.

  "I had to testify in court this afternoon, but I sent a lab guy to take the florist's prints and her daughter's."

  "And?"

  "Both were on the card. So were Darla's, but that was all."

  A shiver rippled across her shoulders and she rubbed her arms. "I was hoping we might get lucky."

  "So was I." He pointed at the last piece of pizza and raised his brows.

  She nodded, indicating he could have it. The apprehension she'd felt upon reading the arsonist's message flooded her again. The words and the flames drawn around them had been a statement. She'd tried all day to consider the card as nothing more than a lead, but it was too creepy. "You know, now that you've connected the flower deliveries to the arsonist, I can't get past the feeling that these fires are about something personal. About me."

  His gaze sliced to her. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

  "No. I mean, if there is, I don't know it. I have absolutely no evidence that these arsons are related to me any more than they're related to anyone else. I'm just being paranoid."

  "Understandable. The connection between your roses and the fire dates surprised me. I imagine it did you, too."

  She nodded. "The card is another clue, another pattern we can track." She hoped she was convincing him; she didn't think she was convincing herself.

  She'd thought the fires hadn't turned personal until Harris's death, but was it possible the arsonist had targeted her, that he or she was setting fires to make a statement to Terra? It was another angle to check.

  "Have you heard from the mayor?" She picked up her uneaten pizza.

  "My lieutenant has, and we're supposed to meet at Griffin's office tomorrow morning. Any word from the M.E.?"

  "Ken called about an hour ago and said he needs at least one more day before he's finished."

  "Does he think he'll be able to release the body in another forty-eight hours?"

  "Probably sooner." A knot of pain lodged in her throat.

  As she rose to get him more tea, he gave her a satisfied smile and pushed back his chair, patting his stomach. "I'd better stop eating or I'll have to buy a new suit."

  He had plenty of room in that suit. His flat stomach was probably hard enough to bounce a quarter.

  "Anything on Reynolds?" She tried to finish her pizza, but now it tasted like lumpy dough.

  Jack drained his glass of tea. "Nothing suspicious yet. I'm digging deeper."

  The arsonist's message today had rocked her with the first sense of personal danger she'd felt in these cases.

  She was also rattled by how drawn she felt to Jack Spencer. The way something in him—his confidence, perhaps—had reached inside her and calmed the shimmer of nerves in her belly at the realization that every one of those bouquets had been delivered after a fire that met her serial arsonist's pattern.

  "Hey, you okay?" Jack's voice quietly penetrated her thoughts.

  She looked over her shoulder to find him standing several feet away, concern turning his eyes to cobalt. "Yes."

  She tried to shake off the apprehension crawling through her. The card was a lead. What Terra had to do was view it that way and work the case. "Let's start those videos."

  After she plugged in the video from the first fire scene, they settled on her leather sofa. Punching Play, Terra explained, "We video about eighty percent of our fires, especially if they're suspicious. I can't do them all, so some firefighters are trained to help me."

  "Do you video so you'll have a record of exactly how things were found and left by the firefighters?"

  "Mainly so we can train others in investigation and also to keep the chain of evidence in our control. That way, it can't be enhanced or altered."

  "What are we looking for first?" Jack sat a foot away from her, but it was close enough to remind her of the way his jacket had felt on her. Had smelled.

  "Faces. We want to determine if there's anyone who showed up at more than one of the fires. Arsonists like to watch their handiwork so they'll return to their burn scene."

  He nodded.

  "This is the janitorial supply store," she said as they watched flames explode from the front window of a small store.

  Next to her, Jack scanned the people in the crowd as intently as she did. The second video showed the fire at the photography studio. Neither of them recognized a person there as being from the first scene. Except Dane Reynolds.

  Since the reporter had already made their suspect list, Terra simply pointed as the camera panned past him.

  Jack muttered, "Expected to see him. Is he in all of them?"

  "Yes, but his regular cameraman, T. J. Coontz, isn't." She reached for her notebook on the coffee table in front of them and thumbed to a tabbed place. "The night of the arson at the photography he was out of town at a training seminar."

  Jack checked his own notes. "And the night of the fire at Harris's, he came from his cousin's wedding. He showed me pictures of him with the bride and groom."

  "So he checks out."

  During the third video which showed the dental office fire, Jack asked her to pause. "That firefighter. The one on the left? This is the second fire scene where I've seen him."

  "Don LeBass," Terra answered. "He's with Station Four."

  "Isn't Station Four assigned to the quadrant on the south side of town?"

  "Yes, and the dental office is in the city's east quadrant. I checked that out." She smiled. "LeBass filled in for a sick firefighter on that shift. Captain Maguire confirmed Station One was shorthanded and he okayed LeBass to work."

  "All right, but Station Four also worked the fire over at Mr. Vaughn's in the east quadrant. Why not just Station One?"

  "Captain Maguire knew the address belonged to Harris and called for backup." Somehow Terra managed to keep her voice from cracking.

  Jack nodded, admiration flaring in his eyes before he looked back at th
e screen.

  They made a good team, she thought, so the sooner they wrapped up this investigation, the better. She found herself wanting to touch Jack Spencer, soak in some of his power, that seeming invincibility. She didn't want to believe the hard ache in her chest was the result of just plain lust, but that's exactly what it was.

  She finally put in the last tape, the video of Harris's house. Her nerves crackled and she realized her hands were clenched in a death grip on the remote as they viewed the flames snaking out of the front, west window of his house. The scene pried open the fresh wound of losing her friend, but she forced herself to mentally replay Harris's instructions through the years, to focus on the case and work around the raw place inside her as best she could.

  Jack sat beside her, leaning forward, his gaze trained intently on the television screen. Despite the unwanted smolder Terra felt between them, his presence was surprisingly comforting. Just as it had been earlier in her office when he'd taken decisive action with the card from the arsonist.

  Except for Dane Reynolds, Terra didn't match any faces in the crowd around Harris's house with people they'd observed at the other scenes, but she felt she'd missed something. She rewound the tape and started it again.

  "What did you see?" Jack scooted closer, the hard length of his thigh burning against hers.

  "I don't know. Something's bugging me."

  Trying to concentrate on the screen with Jack's leg melded to hers and his woodsy scent sliding into her lungs was like trying to douse a bonfire with a garden sprinkler and she struggled to stay focused. She rewound the tape again, her gaze probing flames and faces in the crowd, trees, darkened corners of the house. Shadows.

  "There!" Hitting Pause with one hand, she grabbed Jack's thigh with the other. "Look! Do you see that? Someone in the shadows on the west end of the house? I think it's a woman. Is it? Do you see?"

  He didn't answer.

  She glanced over and saw that he wasn't looking at her, but down. At her hand on his thigh.

  Her heart thumped hard. Shoot. Slowly, she removed her hand, tried to cover the sudden spike of her blood pressure by gripping the remote with both hands and forcing her gaze to the television. She asked unevenly, "Do you see her?"