Rob shook his head and went back to pressure washing the clapboard siding. “I’m not like him. I can’t tell up from down anymore, Ma. I’m so confused about this case—” He clamped down on his words before he could say too much.
“Well, I’d give Kari Hendrix the benefit of the doubt, if it were me,” she said. “Even if she did set fire to that store all those years ago—”
“She said she did, Ma. She still says she did,” Rob interrupted.
“People say they do a lot of things,” Ma reminded him. “And for a variety of reasons.”
“But that’s still lying. That’s still not being truthful. Plus, it’s allowing the real criminal to go free.”
“If she did lie about it, or if she did set that fire, it doesn’t matter now, Rob. It was years ago, and she more than paid society’s price for it.”
“You sound as though you like her— I didn’t even know you knew her.”
“Only by reputation. DeeDee got to know her right after Kari first opened the shop. She was really impressed with Kari’s willingness to make things corn-free for Taylor—you know how hard it is to find bakers who are willing to go to the trouble of cooking for a kid with a food allergy.”
That squared with what Rob knew about Kari. She took care of the people around her, took care of her customers as though they were family.
His mom continued. “And Kari has baked cupcakes and other things for Taylor’s cheer squad. It sure does make it easier on me. Baking is hard work, especially to decorate it all fancy like the girls want it to be.”
“But, Ma, an ugly cake is the best tasting cake, you know that.”
“Spoken like a true Monroe—you’ve got your dad’s sweet tooth, that’s for sure. You aren’t picky.” Ma knelt down and started working on the bottom runner of the porch rail. “Even so, Kari has a real talent for decorating. Her goodies looked as beautiful as they tasted. I hate to see anyone’s dream destroyed, especially since Kari was putting a lot of effort into it. It’s too bad about her shop. I thought she’d make a go of it.”
“She’s still baking—just at her mom’s. She is good at it. No offense to your cooking, but Ma, some of the stuff she’s made...” Rob whistled in admiration. “I’ve probably gained ten pounds just nibbling on her samples. But I won’t be getting any more of those for a while—her mom’s oven is broken.”
“Good gracious. That girl has the worst luck.”
“Yeah, and right in the middle of trying to get Mattie Gottman’s wedding cake done. Kari says she has to get it baked ahead because it’s going to take some time to decorate.”
Ma laid down the scraper and stood up. “That wedding is this Saturday. And Mattie Gottman won’t be shy in airing her complaints if that cake doesn’t get done to her exacting satisfaction. You have a number I can reach her with, Rob?”
“Mattie’s?”
“No, Kari’s.”
Rob pulled out his phone. “Uh, yeah—but why—”
Ma took the phone from him and swiped through his contacts. “Ah, there it is.”
A moment later, a bemused Rob looked on as his mom was in full conversation with Kari. There was a lot of talk about layers and buttercream versus whipped versus fondant and tier supports and oven temperatures and sizes.
“Are you sure, Kari? I have a perfectly good oven...” His mom sighed. “That is a problem. So you think it’s the thermostat? I’ll bet Rob would be glad to help you with that.”
Rob was gobsmacked. He was the least mechanical of all the Monroe boys. Chemistry, he got. Fire, he got. Nuts and bolts? That would be Daniel and Andrew’s department.
“Well, now, if you see a way around it, you just call me. My oven’s not new, but it would do in a pinch, and this sounds like a pinch to me.” Ma rang off with a cheerful goodbye and handed the phone back to Rob. “No good. State regulations and such. If she uses an outside kitchen, it has to meet commercial regulations.”
“Ma—I wish you’d asked me before you did that. It could get—awkward, you offering your house to a suspect in one of my cases.”
“A suspect?” She arched one brow. “Now, Rob. You know you don’t think she’s really the one who set the downtown fire. You’re good at your job, I know that—you’re as good at investigating as Kari is at baking. It’s what you were put on this earth to do. If in all this time you hadn’t been able to find any evidence tying Kari to that fire, it doesn’t exist.”
“I haven’t been able to convince Franklin of that,” he muttered, frowning at the memory of the DA.
Ma rolled her eyes. “Sam Franklin, bless his heart, was an idiot even when we were in grammar school together. You find the real culprit, and he’ll be happy enough. He just wants somebody to convict, Rob. And I’m fairly certain—no, I’d stake my best cast iron frying pan on it—Kari Hendrix did not set that fire.”
“Maybe not the downtown fire, but Ma, she’s still a self-confessed arsonist.”
Ma compressed her lips and went back to her scraping. For a moment, all Rob could hear was the blade rasping loudly against the wood. When she did speak, it was in her firm, no-nonsense tone that told him for Ma, the debate was over. “I know people. If there’s one thing I know, it’s people. And that girl? She hasn’t burned anything—at least not intentionally.”
* * *
A COUPLE OF days later, as Rob was finishing up a mandatory training exercise at the station, his phone went off.
“And we have a contributor to our cell phone jar fund!” Daniel announced to the crew. “Rob, you keep leaving that phone on while we’re training, and we’ll have that new television paid for with your money alone.”
Rob dug in one pocket for his phone and the other for the five bucks’ penalty. “It’s not fair, folks. I have to keep my phone on—people call me back about investigations.”
His brother Andrew clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s why we insist on having you train with our crew—you’re always good for an Abe Lincoln at least.”
But Rob didn’t take the bait. He’d spied the number on the screen: Kari’s.
She’d hung up before he could answer it, so he hit the call-back button and walked out past the engines into the station’s driveway. The phone rang once, twice, three times before she picked up.
“Kari? You needed to talk to me?” he asked.
“I’m sorry—I dialed you by accident,” she told him. She sounded flustered. He could hear her huffing and puffing, as well as the sound of something metallic screeching in protest. “I...was...”
A loud clatter on the other end of the line made him yank the phone from his ear. He replaced it. “Kari? What’s going on?”
“Oops—dropped the phone—I’m...trying...to...move...this...blasted...stove.”
“By yourself?”
Now she had obviously paused in her efforts, though she was still breathing heavily. “Yeah. Jake was supposed to come help me, and that was who I was trying to call. But as usual he’s nowhere to be found.”
“Give me five minutes. I’ll be right there.” He hung up and raised his hand to get Daniel’s attention. “Hey, Daniel, we’re done, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” Daniel waved him on. “You gotta go, go.”
Guilt surged through him as he realized Daniel thought his sudden departure had to do with the investigation. He hadn’t clarified exactly why he was leaving. Daniel would rag him to no end if he found out that Rob was dashing off to move a kitchen appliance for Kari.
Hey, Ma told her that I’d help her. But he knew that wasn’t the reason he was dropping everything to move heavy appliances.
Kari was waiting for him at her mother’s back door. “I am sure you have better things to do than come shove my stove over,” she said apologetically.
He fell back on his earlier justification. “Well, M
a did offer my help.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember that now.”
Did Kari’s face fall as she said that? He couldn’t tell for sure if it actually did or whether it was more of his infernal hopefulness.
The moment passed before he could sort it out, and she graced him with one of her sunny smiles. “Thanks! I hate being so scrawny. I’ve tried everything, and I can’t get the stupid stove to budge.”
He followed her into the kitchen. “So...why do you have to move it? Why not wait for the repair guy?”
She laughed. It was a musical laugh, one that started out low and twinkled its way up a musical scale. “Because, speaking of waiting, the repair guy won’t wait for his money, and besides, I think I can do this and save myself a bundle. Well—” Kari paused and glanced at him over her shoulder, that dimple in her cheek showing itself to full advantage. “I guess it would be more accurate to say ‘we,’ since I failed to get this thing out from the wall on my own, huh?”
“Wait...you’re really working on this range by yourself? Because I have to tell you—” Rob threw up both hands. “I’m no Mr. Fix-It. In high school shop, I barely squeaked by with a passing grade. Heck, I even take my car to someone else to get the oil changed. Daniel and Andrew, now, they’re the ones good with mechanical stuff.”
Kari lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Ah-ha! I’ve found your kryptonite. Relax. A strong back is all that I require, that and maybe someone to cheer me on.”
“If you’re sure...”
“I’m sure. Besides, what’s the worst I can do? The stove can’t get any broker, can it?”
Rob pursed his lips. “Uh, you could get electrocuted? Last I heard, 240 volts is more than a tickle.”
Again her laugh danced up that musical scale. “Trust me, I’m just looking. I’ve watched a few videos online, and it seems pretty simple, but if I get into it and things don’t look like the video, I’ll stop. I know my limits. First, let’s get this bad boy pulled out.” Kari patted the stove’s top. “I’ve put some old carpet scraps down to protect Mom’s floor, so I guess we just have to drag it out.”
“No hand truck?” he asked. “No dolly?”
“Uh...that would be a no.”
“Okay...let’s see if I can wriggle it out.”
Together they struggled with the ungainly appliance—to Rob’s surprise, it wasn’t as heavy as he’d thought it would be, but it still wasn’t a piece of cake. Two mashed fingers and three scraped knuckles later, though, he had it slid out into the center of the kitchen floor.
“So what exactly are you trying to fix?” he asked.
“The temperature sensor. I checked the continuity on the element, and it’s fine. I think...” Now Kari’s face became rosy pink. “I screwed something up with the electronics when I sprayed it all down with the fire extinguisher. I had foam dripping down into the oven cavity, believe it or not.”
“Uh—you sure we don’t need to call a professional in for this?” Rob asked.
“We don’t need no stinkin’ professional.” Kari wiggled her slim body through the tight opening formed by the back of the stove and the kitchen cabinet. With a flourish, she wrestled the heavy plug out of the outlet. “There. We can’t get electrocuted now. Hand me that screwdriver—yeah, that one.”
“Just how many stoves have you worked on?”
“Hmmm...” She bent over the galvanized metal cover on the back of the stove and started backing out the sheet metal screws. “I have to confess, this will be my inaugural thermostat sensor repair, but you’ve gotta start somewhere, right? Whoa! This is slipping on me—can you reach over—”
Before he knew it, Rob had wedged himself in beside Kari in the tiny space between the wall and the stove. Together they worked to unfasten the back cover. He lifted it up, careful to avoid grazing Kari with its sharp edges.
“Oh, man...that’s a lot of wires. How will we know what we’ve got to replace?” he asked.
“You really are phobic when it comes to repairs, aren’t you?” Kari shot back. “The video made it look pretty simple. All we have to do is take this mounting bracket off...” She crouched down again, nibbling on her bottom lip as she concentrated on getting rid of still more screws. “And we take out the old sensor.” She slid a long metal probe out of the back of the oven. “Voila!”
“So now you just stick the new one in?”
Kari twisted around, first one way and then the other, squinting her eyes. “Uh...yeah...if I could remember where I left it. Boy, some expert I look like, huh?”
Rob thought she looked adorable, especially with the smear of grime on her nose and a dust bunny in her hair. He reached down to pluck the dust bunny from its nesting spot, but found his fingers sliding over her cheek.
Kari’s mouth parted. She tilted her head back, and Rob thought maybe she was going to say, “Stop,” or “Kiss me,” or something in between those two.
She didn’t, though. She just swallowed hard, her eyes losing their merry light. “Rob...”
He couldn’t seem to stop the ball of his thumb from tracing that path along her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm and silky smooth, her eyes wide, her soft pink lips infinitely kissable. He could definitely kiss her.
But then all the reasons he shouldn’t came flooding back to Rob. Slowly he dropped his hand. “You...uh...had some dust on your cheek,” he fibbed. To add a little authenticity to his prevarication, he plucked the dust bunny from her hair. “And your hair.”
“Oh.” Kari ducked her head. Was she disappointed? Or grateful that he’d not tried to kiss her?
Just like before, when he’d tried to gauge her reaction, she didn’t give him the chance. Kari lifted her chin, her smile a tad impersonal and maybe a watt or two too bright. “There it is—over there on the table. I’ll just slip out and get it.”
He felt her absence as much as if it had been a lost coat on a cold winter’s day—not just the space between them, but her sudden aloofness. Gone in an instant was the joking tomfoolery, the banter between them.
All because he’d not been able to keep his hands to himself.
Or maybe because he had been able to.
Kari returned with a padded shipping envelope. She pulled out a bright and shiny new sensor and began feeding it through the hole. With quick and efficient movements, she fastened the mounting bracket back on and snapped the wires together by way of the plastic clip. “There. All done. Now we just put the cover back on, plug it back in and check the calibration.”
“Don’t you think we need to leave the cover off until you know it works?” he suggested.
“Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea. I’m getting ahead of myself, huh?”
Rob watched her as she went through the motions of preheating the oven and tinkering with the calibration. “I had no idea you could adjust an oven temp like this. I’ll have to check Ma’s. She’s always complaining that her oven is too hot.”
“See? You are a Mr. Fix-It after all.” Kari touched him on the arm, then jerked back. He noticed how her bottom lip quivered the tiniest bit. “But you’d better check for her specific model—each brand has a slightly different technique, I think, based on what I saw online.”
“I will. You’ve inspired me. I have to admit, I thought it was beyond my pay grade,” he confessed as he tightened the last of the screws on the back cover.
“Apology accepted. Desperation will make you do crazy things, I guess.” Kari’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no. That’s not the kind of thing you say to an arson investigator.”
He reached over, pulled her hand from her face and squeezed it. “Kari...maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’re playing me in some elaborate con...but...look at you. You’re smart. Handy with a wrench and a screwdriver. You figure out how things work. If you’d wanted to burn that building down, I have no doubt you could hav
e worked out a better, much more clever way than a propane tank and a road flare. So...maybe I should be on the job, but right now, could you think of me as...well...a friend? Because that’s why I came. That’s why I’m here. To help you. I just want to help you.”
Misery seemed to ooze from her. Her face crumpled, despite her efforts to recover her poise. “I—you have no idea how much I wish I could believe that, Rob.” She swallowed, lifted that chin again in the way she did when she was trying to compose herself. “I wish I could. But thank you anyway.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AT LEAST THE oven was working again, and it hadn’t cost her a fortune to get it back in operation.
Kari yawned, glanced at the wall clock and piped out another rose. Only three hundred more of the suckers to go, or at least it felt like it was another three hundred. Plus she still had all the baby calla lilies and the orchids and the hydrangeas to make. She’d never get them all done.
It was almost midnight. She’d baked the bottom two tiers of Mattie Gottman’s cake, but she had to finish the rest or the leavening in the batter wouldn’t do its job. Maybe it hadn’t been the wisest course of action to start baking the cake right after Rob had left.
But then again, her brain had been complete mush by the time he’d walked out the kitchen door.
She’d stood there like a complete idiot, willing him to kiss her. What sort of a cow-eyes face had she made at him, and all he was doing was brushing dust off her face?
It hadn’t felt like that. It had felt...
Warmth sped through her, and her heart beat faster at the memory of his touch. Gentle. Patient. As if he’d been waiting for her to give him permission...
That was important to her, that permission. For four years, her body had literally not been her own. Guards had told her when to shower, when to eat, when to sleep, when to work, when she could even have a bathroom break. They’d yanked her into line, yanked her out of line, did routine searches of her and her paltry few belongings...and that didn’t count the invasions of privacy she’d suffered at the hands of her fellow inmates.
Out of the Ashes Page 13
