“Can you explain what you saw, in our own words?”
“I saw Brad White pinning Evie McGraw to the backseat of his car and exposing himself to her. I opened the car door and punched him in the face. The rest is pretty much on file at the police department.”
Merry’s eyebrows soared. “Do you intend to make a statement to police?”
“I’ll make any statement anyone wants from me. The only reason I didn’t back then was because Evie didn’t want me to. She didn’t want to upset her family.” He wanted to make sure she got that point into her article. “You know Evie.”
“I do,” said Merry softly. “I guess not as well as I thought I did.” She clicked off the recorder. “Listen, I need to get this story written up, but do you still want me to do a piece on you and your crew? I think it’s even more relevant now.”
Rollo stepped close to them. “We’re here to back up Sean, so just name the time and place. We’re ready to go.”
“You know, I wonder…” Merry’s eyes sparkled as she got an eager newshound look on her face. “I wonder if we could make a little ol’ deal here. I do a big puff piece on the new hotshot crew. I’ll include your stories about the burnover. I’ll make sure Jupiter Point gets your side of the story. I can’t control what anyone else says, obviously. But I’ll get you your ink.”
Sean narrowed his eyes at her. “And in exchange?”
“I want to be embedded with you guys.”
Rollo reared his head back, narrowly escaping the corner of a campaign sign someone was carrying past them. “What did you say?”
“Embedded,” she repeated impatiently. “I want to go with you to a wildfire and write a story about it.”
Rollo flexed his shoulders, cracking his neck a little in the process. “Oh, that’s just a genius idea. What do you think we do out there, roast marshmallows? You have to be in peak physical shape. It’s dangerous, especially for someone your size. I carried you down the street like a football.”
When Merry’s glare threatened to incinerate him on the spot, he turned to Sean. “Magneto, talk some sense into her.”
Sean lifted an eyebrow at him. It wasn’t a crazy idea. Other reporters had spent time with wildfire crews. Maybe they weren’t as petite as Merry, but she looked plenty tough to him. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee anything,” he told Merry. “It may not be my decision. But I can advocate for you.”
“Fair enough.” Ignoring Rollo, she smiled sweetly at Sean. “Okay, then, how about we meet in two hours out at the base? You can show me everything you’ve been doing to get the crew ready.”
“Sounds good.”
She turned to go but he snagged her arm before she disappeared. “Any sense of how the town is reacting to Evie’s statement?”
She glanced around at the quickly dispersing group. “I think we’ll have to see. Brad is pretty respected around here. But so is Evie. And Tara O’Neill, that intern, she’s a wild card.”
He nodded, trying to keep a lid on his anxiety. What if Evie had spilled her guts for nothing? Would she be okay?
“I’ll tell you this much,” Merry continued. “I sure am glad you were there for her back then. And I’m glad you’re here for her now.”
Sean let her go and she tore off in the direction of the Mercury News-Gazette offices.
Sean’s phone buzzed and he answered right away, thinking it might be Evie. Instead it was his immediate supervisor from the Forest Service. Hell. Matt Vargas had been trying to reach him since yesterday. Between the tequila, Evie, and the arrival of his old crew, he hadn’t had a chance to call him back.
More accurately, he hadn’t wanted to call him back. But now he was stuck.
“Marcus,” he answered.
“What the fuck is going on there?” Vargas thundered. “Neither you nor Marshall is answering the phone. I’m getting weird-ass calls from people I never heard of. Asking me questions about the Big Canyon burnover. Is there something I’m missing here? Your local connection was supposed to be an asset, Marcus.”
Vargas was talking so loudly that even Rollo could hear. People in the next street over could probably hear. Sean ducked around the corner, Rollo close at his heels. “I’m on it, Vargas. I have a media outreach plan already in place.”
Rollo gave him a thumb’s up, and Sean made a face at him. As of one minute ago he had a media outreach plan, thanks to Merry.
“There’s some political stuff going on here that I can’t control. I’m doing what I can.”
“Not good enough. One more flare-up and I’ll have to put someone else in charge. I have actual fires to worry about, and so do you. I need you to focus, Marcus. This is a big job and thirty-one is damn young for a superintendent. Don’t make me look like an ass for putting you in that position.”
“No, sir. I’m one hundred percent focused, sir.”
He hung up and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. Rollo was still keeping pace at his side. “Good talk?”
“One for the memory banks.”
His phone buzzed again. He considered stomping on the damn thing until it could never bother him again. Instead, he pulled it out and glanced at the new text. He didn’t recognize the number, but he had no doubt who had sent it.
You and me, Marcus. Airstrip, two hours.
* * *
In his time with the fire service, Sean had noticed something about the typical firefighter personality. In order to get along in such tough working circumstances, firemen developed a certain sensitivity to each other’s moods. When a guy needed some space to work through his shit, he got it. When he was ready to talk—or maybe just drink—he could do that too.
The guys seemed to pick up on his need for a break because no one talked about Evie or the press conference as they drove out to the base.
When Merry arrived, Sean beckoned Josh to join them. “Show her around the base, would you, Marsh?”
“Sure thing.” Josh grinned at her and offered his arm. “It’s a thing of beauty, this place. You’re probably going to want to move in.”
Sean forced a smile. “Merry, I think you should interview the rest of the crew first. They’ll speak more freely if I’m gone.”
“Where the hell are you going?” Josh asked.
“Got something to take of.”
Josh raised an eyebrow, but Sean ignored him. Of course his friend assumed he was going to see Evie, to offer support after that incredible soul-baring moment at the press conference. He’d been so proud of her. He’d watched with his heart in his mouth the entire time. Right now, he’d love to get her alone in a room and wrap his arms around her.
But if Brad was going to the airstrip, he was going too. He didn’t trust that guy for a second.
The waving grasses and wildflowers welcomed him back as if no time had passed. He drove by the spot where Evie had taken photos for her mother and parked just outside the barrier.
Sean ducked under the barrier and walked down the runway. He noticed a ragged windsock still hanging from a pole, a green distance marker now lying on its side. At the end of the runway, he stepped onto grass.
This was the spot. Thirteen years ago, after checking the direction of the wind with that same windsock, he’d flung his father’s ashes into the air. His mother’s had gone to her family in Florida. But no one had asked for Jesse Marcus’s.
A black BMW coupe zoomed into view and jerked to a stop outside the barrier. The door opened and Brad White got out. A quick scan told Sean that Brad was alone, and that he didn’t seem to be armed and dangerous. Brad shaded his eyes and scanned the property, not spotting Sean until he raised his hand and started forward.
They converged in the center of the runway, keeping a careful distance between them. Sean waited for Brad to speak first. The candidate wore the same business suit as earlier, but the tie was unknotted and sweat stains darkened the armpits.
“You think you’ve won, don’t you, asshole?”
Sean snorted. “I’m not running
for anything. That’s your gig.”
“Sure you are. You’re running for respect. You want this town to like you. You want everyone to forget your father was a fucking hippie-ass criminal.”
Sean clenched his jaw to keep from responding. It was one thing for him to badmouth his father. Listening to Brad do it was a different story. “If you think I care what you say about my father, forget about it. I heard enough crap back in high school.”
“Yeah you did. And it was all true. Want to know why your father crashed that plane?”
Sean’s stomach did a sick, slow roll. He didn’t answer. Brad was going to say whatever he wanted. And he’d hear it, because that was why he’d come.
Brad reached into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “It’s all here. Drug money. It came through our bank. My dad had just figured it out and was about to bring in the police. He knew. Your father knew. He was going to jail, and your mother too because he put her name all over everything. Nice, huh? He would have brought your whole family down. If you weren’t a minor, you would have gone to jail too.”
Sean stared at the printouts, which were covered with numbers. A booming sound rang in his ears. The blood pounding? His world shifting?
Brad snickered. “Wait, you did go to jail. I forgot. It’s where you Marcuses belong. So what do you think? Did your dear old loving dad crash that plane on purpose because he just couldn’t handle the heat? Sounds about right, don’t you think? I looked into his life history from what’s on file at the bank. Seems like he crossed state lines every time things got a little hot for him.”
Sean couldn’t drag his gaze from those papers. “What…” He cleared his throat. “What are you going to do with that?”
“I don’t know. What should I do? I don’t want to go public with this shit. It is our bank, after all. Makes us look bad that we ever had anything to do with your slimy family.”
Sean clenched his fists so hard his knuckles cracked.
Brad’s face relaxed into his trademark charming smile—the one Sean particularly hated. “Tell you what? Let’s make a deal. I’ll keep this information to myself. And you,” he paused for the drama of it, “you sell me this piece of property.”
Sean’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t seen that coming at all. “Why?”
“You need to ask? This is prime real estate here. Ocean view, lots of space. I’m seeing vacation condos or a fucking golf course. Does it matter? I want it. Call it a backup plan in case people take Evie seriously.” There was a dangerous, reckless gleam in his pale gray eyes. “You don’t need it. What would you do with an old airstrip? It’s practically a fire hazard.”
Sean narrowed his eyes at him. Was that a threat? What exactly was Brad up to here? It was hard to believe this was just about a real estate deal. “What about Evie?”
“Evie? What about her? You can have her. There, I just sweetened the deal. Are we good?”
Sean itched to wipe the nasty smirk off his face. “I’ll need to think about it.” He held out his hands for the sheaf of papers.
After a slight hesitation, Brad handed them over. “These are just printouts, so don’t bother to get your matches out.”
Still holding the papers, Sean folded his arms across his chest. “Anything else before I kick you off my property?”
Brad took an involuntary step back. “Going caveman again?”
He took a step forward, then another. “Why not? It felt damn good the last time.”
With one last sneer, Brad turned away and headed for his BMW. Just before he reached it, he called out one more thing. “This town is never going to accept you, Marcus. You should sell and get out. Move to a place where no one knows the whole Marcus family circus. If you keep hanging around Evie, I feel for the McGraws. They’re a good family, and they sure have been through a lot.”
Mentioning the McGraws was the last straw. Sean started after him, energy surging through his body and into his fists. Brad ran the last couple of steps to his car and slid inside. Before Sean could reach him, he drove off, sticking his left arm out the window, middle finger raised.
Sean let out a howl of pure fury. His whole body vibrated with it. It rang through his voice, his throat, his lungs. Fucking little twit.
But after the first red flash of rage, he knew the truth. His anger wasn’t really about Brad. It was about his own flesh and blood.
“Jesse, what the fuck did you do?” He kicked at the pavement of the runway. “You selfish, foolish idiot. What did you do?”
28
The next day, Evie’s first two hours at the gallery seemed to last about a week. No one came through her door. The tourists and honeymooners were probably sleeping late. But the Jupiter Pointers…where were they? What were they thinking? Was Brad busy trashing her in every way he could?
By the time the door jingled open, her heart just about jumped out of her chest. Chief Becker walked in with his long, loping stride.
“Chief,” she said faintly, the blood pounding in her ears. “It’s nice to see you.”
“It’s nice to finally get the real story of what went down that night.” With his height and imposing stature, he made the gallery look like a dollhouse. “I wondered if I’d ever know.”
Her heart jumped again, this time with hope. He’d said “the real story.” That must mean he believed her.
“I’m sorry—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “No need. It’s not really unusual for victims to be afraid to speak out. I came by to ask if you want to pursue any charges at this point in time.”
“No,” she said quickly. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s the only way to make him pay for his actions.”
“Oh, he’s already paying!” At the sound of Mrs. Murphy’s cheerful voice, both Evie and Chief Becker swung toward the door. The bookstore owner practically skipped across the polished floor toward the espresso bar.
“There’s been a run on White Savings and Loan!” she declared, triumph shining from her eyes. “Everyone’s closing their accounts!”
“Everyone?”
“A lot of people. I certainly did. Everyone’s saying his campaign is dead as a doorknob. Jim is trying to get him into some treatment center just to get him out of town.”
Evie drew in a long, unsteady breath. “Treatment for what?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. They say treatment, that’s all.”
“I don’t think there’s a treatment for what ails him,” Chief Becker muttered, turning to go. “Have a good day, ladies. Keep me in the loop. Seems I’m the last to know these days.”
As soon as the chief was gone, Mrs. Murphy got down to business. “Evie, you’ve really stirred things up. Tara O’Neill has an interview in the paper today, and they say more girls are coming forward. And it’s all because of you. People will be talking about this for years!” Delighted at that pleasant picture of the future, she hitched one hip onto the stool.
“Wait.” Evie rushed around the counter. “I got this for you.” She snapped open a camp chair she’d ordered online. “It has cup holders and everything.”
“For me?”
“For you.” She smiled affectionately at the older woman. Mrs. Murphy might be a gossip, but she had a kind heart, and right now Evie was all about kindness. Was there anything more important, when you came right down to it?
“Evangaline McGraw, you are an angel sent from heaven. Now.” She settled her wide rear into the canvas seat and sighed happily. “I’ll take a cappuccino for this darling little cup holder. Oh, and did you hear about the coalition? We’re having another meeting tonight…”
After Mrs. Murphy’s visit, a steady flow of Jupiter Point residents came through the gallery. Even if they didn’t reference the press conference directly, they said things like, “We’re behind you, Evie,” and “You need anything, let us know.”
Feeling that degree of support from her hometown was nearly overwhelming.
But one person d
idn’t show up that day…or the next. Or the next. Evie didn’t hear anything from Sean over the next few days. He’d texted her a sweet message of support after the press conference, but nothing since then.
* * *
Three days after the fateful press conference, Brad officially ended his campaign and checked into a sex addiction treatment center. According to Merry, insiders were saying that he could survive this scandal, in time. His plan, according to people in the know, was to lay low for a while, then come back and try to rebuild his reputation and the family finances. Apparently he already had a few projects in mind.
But Evie no longer cared. She’d done her part, and the sense of power and freedom was sweet indeed.
After four days of no communication with Sean, she gave in and drove to the hotshot base. On her way into the front lot, she spotted a group of men running with heavy-looking packs strapped to their backs. They were running hard, sweat dripping down their faces, feet pounding the trail that ran through the woods near the lot. At the head of the pack, staring at a stop watch, was Sean. Shirtless, sweaty, magnificent Sean.
With her heart in her mouth, she parked and leaned against her Jetta as they burst into the parking lot, one by one. Sean called out their times as they collapsed onto the grass.
“Hey, Evie,” Josh called from his prone position on the ground.
Sean whipped around.
“Hi, hotshots.” She waved and gave Sean a tentative smile. He wrapped things up with the guys—it sounded like a pep talk, but she couldn’t make out all the words—then jogged over to her.
“Hi, Evie. I’d…uh…come closer but I’m a little grimy right now.”
She nodded, throat tightening. Grimy or not, she would love to be pressed against him right now. The sight of his spectacularly muscled chest, still heaving from the exertion of the run, made her light-headed.
But obviously something wasn’t right between them. His smoky eyes held a remoteness she hadn’t seen before—or at least not since he’d come back to Jupiter Point.
Set the Night on Fire Page 20
