“Sounds like Jake didn’t want to sell.” Jake had always been crazy about the Double J property. It was mostly scrub grass and rock, but he’d loved it like it was Kentucky bluegrass. Loved it more than…anything.
“We needed that extra land and I told him it was a sin against God to withhold it.”
Kate couldn’t help the smile that briefly touched her face and gave her striking features a soft glow. “I’ll bet that really sizzled him.”
“I thought he was going to strike me.”
“Listen, Reverend, you see that land as a place to build more church. That’s Jake’s heritage. That land has been in his family, and believe me, family members have died protecting it from claim jumpers and squatters. Jake is a little touchy about his property, but it doesn’t sound as if he actually threatened you.”
“Not then, but later. He came up to check out what we were doing at the church. He found that we’d been using a tiny piece of his land to load supplies. He was livid. He made us haul off the supplies on the spot.”
Kate had no trouble imagining that scene, either. It wasn’t wise for a man to let another use his land. Use meant possession, and possession was nine-tenths of the law. If the Reverend Lyte doubted that, all he had to do was ask the Native American tribes who had once owned the entire West. “Okay,” she said. “So Jake valued his land and he maintained his perimeters. That’s a rancher’s right.”
“Are you defending him? I thought you were supposed to find the man responsible for starting these fires and punish him, not protect him.”
Kate held out her hand. “I’d calm down, Reverend, before I went off making half-baked accusations like that one. Are you claiming that Jake burned down your church?” She leveled a cold green stare in his direction. “Think about it before you answer. This is a serious charge. If you make it, you’d better be able to back it up by signing a statement.”
“I have no proof.” Lyte rose from his chair. “That’s what you’re here for, to get the proof.”
“And I will, but let me give you a little warning. A friendly warning free of charge. Don’t go accusing Jake or anyone else of a crime unless you have proof. A lot has changed in the West, but a man still has the right to defend his honor. Even against a preacher.”
Lyte nodded. His mouth lifted into a smile. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
Kate was slightly taken aback. She didn’t like him, but she’d tried not to show it. “I’m not paid to like you.”
“That’s right. I can understand why you don’t, though. Family aversion to the good Lord and his commandments. Have a good day, Miss McArdle.”
He left the office as abruptly as he’d come. Kate leaned both hands on her desk, stunned by his parting shot. Since she’d returned to Silver City not a single soul had mentioned her family. Not even during the election, when she’d thought it would surely be used in a smear campaign.
The fact that she was Kitty McArdle’s granddaughter could have made headline copy—Descendant of West’s Most Prominent Madam Now Seeks a Badge. But her opponent hadn’t used it, and no one else had either. She’d begun to think that she’d finally separated herself from her grandmother and her infamous house of “playful kittens.”
She’d been wrong.
She watched the minister walk toward his car, determined not to let him get under her skin. He was a pompous ass, and it was no wonder Jake wouldn’t sell him a foot of land.
She returned to her reports, determined to find the common link between the fires. She knew they were related. It was a gut feeling, and. she’d learned to trust her gut.
JAKE COLLECTED the bags of evidence and stowed them in the car. Ouzo had gone to work and uncovered a footprint left in a puddle of melted wax. Jake could only hope that it was a print left by the arsonist. But it was almost too good to be true. The fire starter had never been so careless before. But then he’d never burned a church before, either.
One of the things that was so frustrating about this case was that there seemed to be no clear connection between the fires.
The fire that destroyed the Double J ranch house had been set ten months before. It didn’t take a lot of imagination for Jake to recall the roar of the flames as they shot into the night sky. Most folks around town had felt that the fire had freed Jake of the burden of the ranch, which was nothing but a financial drain. It was true that the insurance money had given him a sense of freedom that he never thought he’d have. The ranch house and barns had been properly constructed and insured appropriately. Of course the land was another matter. It had never been worth much. Jake’s grandfather had bought it for next to nothing from a couple of prospectors who went belly-up. Then in an effort to establish a working ranch and a fine home for his family, Jake’s father, Jacob, had heavily mortgaged the property. But with the insurance claim Jake had been able to pay off the bank and own the land free and clear.
What no one had considered was that Jake’s entire personal history was gone with the house. Every photo. Every personal item that connected him to his family and the land that his father had loved so dearly. Insurance money couldn’t buy those things back.
He carefully nudged a clump of blackened stone. As he bent to examine a paper beneath it, he found it was a page from a hymnal. A memory surfaced, and he recalled a twelve-year-old Kate standing in front of the Gilpin County School assembly singing “Amazing Grace.” Her voice had been true and pure and lovely to listen to—until someone in the audience had begun a catcall about Kate’s grandmother. Kate had halted the song and stood stricken like a wild animal, then she had fled. Not another single time had he ever heard her sing. And he’d never thought of that moment again until now.
A glimmer of understanding came to him. As usual, his epiphanies were a day late and a dollar short. Jake had identified strongly with his father, and therefore with the land his father loved. Kate, on the other hand, was trying desperately to escape the heritage that had been handed to her. She’d burned to get out of Gilpin County and leave behind the dancehall image of a grandmother who acquired her money in the sporting life—and the mother who’d walked out with a high-stakes gambler and left her sixteen-year-old daughter to fend for herself.
While he’d been hanging onto his range-land inheritance as hard as he could, Kate had been kicking free. Neither one had ever really stopped long enough to consider the other’s needs. They’d only recognized their attraction to each other, and like a lot of teenagers, they’d acted on it.
He felt the heat rise up into his face at the memory of the nights they’d shared. Kate was a woman who gave herself body and soul, when she decided to give. There was no doubt that he’d loved her. But he hadn’t been willing to sacrifice to have her. She’d given him a choice, and he’d chosen the Double J.
Now his ranch was gone and his father was dead.
And Kate McArdle was back in town as the sheriff.
He groaned out loud and looked around for Ouzo. “Here, boy,” he called. “Let’s load up and get this stuff ready to send to the lab.” The black dog bounded into the car.
“You know, Ouzo, women are a treacherous breed. My advice to you is to stay away from them completely. I’ve figured something out today. Something about Kate. But I can promise you, if I try to explain it to her, it’ll only lead to a fight.”
“Arf.”
“You’re one smart dog.”
Jake was backing around when he caught sight of the white compact headed up the road. The church had been the end-of-the-line destination, so there was no doubt the car was headed toward it Foot on the brake, Jake waited. When he saw the florid face of Roy Adams, mayor of Silver City, Jake rolled his eyes.
“Roy,” he said as the window slid down. “Something I can do for you?”
“You can catch the maniac who’s setting these fires. That is what you get paid to do, isn’t it?”
“Not exactly,” Jake answered, knowing he would only make matters worse but unable to resist the impu
lse. “Technically, my job description has more to do with keeping the fire department manned and ready for emergencies. Arson investigation is a secondary area of my work.”
“Don’t cite your job description to me! I wrote the damn thing!”
“Okay,” Jake answered calmly. Roy’s face had turned another five degrees redder. It was time to back off or risk a mayoral stroke.
“The CEOs of the Dandy Diamond Casino will be in town tomorrow. They’re scouting for a site for a new casino, but they’re worried about the arsons we’re having. I want you on hand to give them a report that will reassure them that you’re hot on the heels of the arsonist. We can’t afford to spook these people. Silver City needs what they can do.”
“I think the last thing Silver City needs is another casino. That’s all we have. Even the opera house where Kitty and her girls danced and entertained is now a gambling den. Isn’t it about time we tried to preserve some of the original town? Hell, the next thing I know, you’ll be selling the fire station to a gambling interest.”
“You’re not a historian, you’re the fire marshal. I want you at that meeting, giving that report.”
“But I’m not hot on the trail. In fact, I don’t have any evidence that leads me in any direction. Whoever is setting these fires is pretty damn smart.”
“Well, find some clues. And do it before tomorrow. I want you at that meeting, and I want you to have some progress to report. Is that clear?”
“I get the idea you’d like me to fabricate something.”
“I don’t care if you have to dream up a suspect. Just have one, and have him nearly caught. Is that clear enough?”
“You’re the boss,” Jake said.
“And don’t bring that hound dog to the meeting. This isn’t the Wild West anymore. Folks don’t take their livestock with them to meetings.”
“Technically, Ouzo is a dog. That’s not really livestock.”
Adams’s eyes bugged with fury. “You know what I mean. You show up and leave that hound at home. You’re on thin ice, Johnson. Half the folks in town think you’re the arsonist. Don’t push me. I’m one of the few people holding the line in your defense. Don’t take that for granted.”
Jake felt the truth of Roy’s words like a slap. This was the second time in less than four hours he’d been told he was the prime suspect.
“I don’t think I have to say this, Roy, but I didn’t start those fires.”
“Quit making it so hard for me to defend you, Jake.” Roy rolled up his window and headed back down the mountain.
Jake eased the car into gear and followed at a much slower pace. As he descended Sentinel Mountain, he came to a point where he could look over the valley below. The remains of the Double J looked like a giant bruise on the land. Jake reached across and stroked Ouzo’s thick black fur. “I remember the day you strayed up to the ranch, Ouzo. Johnny Marino named you for that Greek liquor he was always drinking. He said you had a sneaky kick like ouzo.” He patted the dog again then pressed the gas. “We’d better get this stuff to the lab.”
THE FIRE STATION was right across the street from the sheriff’s office, and Kate was watching when Jake pulled in. She continued watching as he unloaded a cardboard box and went into the station house.
His reports were spread across her desk, and she had come to one conclusion. The only thing that linked the fires in any pattern was that at some time in the past, Jake Johnson had had words with the property owners. Every single one of them. And then their homes or businesses had gone up in flames.
She went back to her desk and looked at the chart she’d drawn. Counting Lookout Church, three fires had been started with a timer. In another, gasoline had been used as an accelerant. The fifth fire, which had been Roy Adams’s insurance company, had been electric. All of the fires had required some degree of skill to start
Kate pulled at her bottom lip as she reexamined the reports. It didn’t make sense that Jake would have deliberately included every shred of evidence that pointed at him.
The Double J had been the first fire. Then Betty Cody, a member of the city council who’d tried to get Jake fired, had lost her home. Not two weeks later, Roy Adams’s insurance company had burned—after he’d told Jake that he wouldn’t reinsure the Double J if Jake rebuilt. The fourth fire had been Lester Ray’s saloon, right after Lester had publicly accused Jake of starting the other fires. And now Lookout Church. It turned out, in addition to what Lyte had said, that Jake and the preacher had also gotten into an argument right in the middle of town. Jake had made some unflattering remarks about a preacher who felt that a church needed movie theaters and bowling alleys. And Lyte had retaliated from the pulpit in recent sermons.
Kate went back to the window where she was joined by Familiar. Together they watched Jake bring out a cardboard box and put it in the trunk of his car. One thing about Jake—he didn’t mind a public argument, and he didn’t back down.
“Stay here, I’m going to talk to Jake.” Kate slipped into the leather jacket that she’d owned since her college days at the University of Colorado. When she’d gotten her master’s in criminal justice, she sure hadn’t thought she’d use it to run for sheriff in Gilpin County. In fact, she’d been so eager to get out of Silver City that she’d run over anybody who got in her way. Even Jake Johnson.
As she stepped out into the fading afternoon sun, she remembered the day she left town. She’d packed up everything she owned in her beat-up old pickup. High-school graduation was only hours behind her. She and Jake had planned to elope. They had spent the last six months of high school planning the way they’d hightail it out of town and over the county line to the closest judge. It had seemed like a perfect plan.
Except that Kate had assumed they’d both leave for college together, and Jake had assumed they’d move out to the Double J.
The upshot had been that Kate had packed alone. Holding back her tears, she’d climbed behind the wheel of her truck and started out of town—forever.
Jake had been standing right outside the old saloon that still bore Kate’s grandmother’s name and the nude painting of her in the bar. She remembered it clear as a bell. Jake had stepped into the middle of the street when he saw her truck coming.
He wasn’t moving, and she wasn’t slowing.
She could still remember the feel of the truck’s steering wheel in her hands, the tears that almost blinded her as she pressed down on the gas. He’d chosen not to go with her, and he certainly wasn’t going to slow her down. That was exactly what she was thinking as she drove straight at him.
Jake’s father had dived from the sidewalk and knocked Jake out of the way just as she’d careered past him, hell for leather, headed for the interstate and freedom.
And that was the last time she’d seen Jake Johnson—until she’d come home to run her election campaign. Except for in her dreams. Yeah, old Jake had certainly torn up her subconscious over the years. That was one reason she’d come back to Silver City. She was going to exorcise Jake Johnson and the whole problem she had with her grandmother’s past and her mother’s abandonment if it was the last thing she ever did.
“Jake!” She jogged across the street toward him, the fringe on her jacket swinging in the breeze.
Jake turned and felt his heart thud. “Why, if it isn’t Calamity Jane. You look mighty western,” he said.
Kate felt the flush begin at her toes and work all the way up. “Well, uh, thanks.” For a split second she forgot what she’d come to ask him. “Did you find anything else up at the church?”
He motioned her toward the car and reopened the trunk. “A footprint. It was mixed in the wax and mud. It had rained just before the fire.”
“That’s good.” Footprints could be very useful forensic evidence.
“Maybe. You know as well as I do that it could be a print from the fire team. That isn’t likely, though. It looks like the sole of a casual shoe. The fire boots have a distinctive pattern.”
Kate nodded.
“The road up to the church has been sealed, but that doesn’t mean we successfully kept everybody out.”
“The arsonist hasn’t been careless in the past. A footprint just doesn’t seem to be his…style.”
Kate filed that information away. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about putting a couple of deputies on night patrol. I thought if you had a couple of firemen and we could get some cooperation from the other branches of law enforcement, maybe we could discourage this guy.”
“I don’t think a few uniformed folks walking around town will discourage him, but it couldn’t hurt”
“How about you and I pull the first shift this evening?” Kate was as surprised by the suggestion as Jake. Based on the degree of heat they’d generated up on the mountain, they were highly combustible. There was no point in putting themselves in a situation where they would fight and argue. At last she gathered her scattered thoughts. “I mean it would be a show of good faith if we did some of the grunt work. I’m new as sheriff, and you’ve got your own PR problems. This couldn’t hurt. And I owe you an apology. Reverend Lyte just paid me a visit and I had to jump on him about accusing people without evidence. I did the same thing earlier today.”
Jake looked down at the box of evidence. “If that’s an apology, Kate, then it’s a first, coming from you. I accept, but I can’t pull a shift with you tonight. Since it’s Saturday, I thought I’d drive this evidence into Denver. I didn’t want to wait for one of the delivery services and the crime lab is waiting for it.” Jake didn’t look at her.
Kate felt her embarrassment as keenly as a wound. “Right. It was presumptuous of me.” She shrugged one shoulder to show him and herself that it didn’t matter. “Later, Jake.”
Chapter Three
Kissable Kate, formerly known as Pistol-Packing Mama, is cruising the town and I’m left here with a bunch of dry reports. But this window gives me a good view of Silver City, and I must say the inhabitants of this place look like a cross between blue-light shoppers at K Mart and high rollers from Monte Carlo. Throw in a few buffalo hunters, old hippies, generation X-ers and it’s a mass market that no television show has come close to touching. Not even Vanna could clap for big money and get the attention of these people. Look, there goes a granny in sneakers, eyes glazed like she’s been eating lotus plants. There’s something about gambling that turns folks into zombies.
Familiar Fire Page 3
