by Nora Snowdon
“Was there fire in the second office?” he asked quietly.
“No. We could’ve gotten her out.” Lu glanced at him. “I mean, I didn’t think there was fire there … But I don’t know if we could’ve gotten back out of the building. The fire would’ve been on either side of us blocking our escape. Red was right to pull me back.”
“Close your eyes.” At her startled expression, Byron explained, “Just for a moment. I want you to focus on the moment before Red broke this door down.”
Lu closed her eyes tightly praying she hadn’t misjudged Byron, too.
“Relax.” His hand rested lightly on her shoulder. Lu almost jumped out of her skin at his touch. It felt like he was trying to reassure or steady her, but she was already on edge from all the emotions she’d been suppressing. God, was she going to want to kiss Byron after crying, too? A hysterical giggle was building up inside her.
His calm voice pulled her back. “Don’t worry. This is not some sort of hypnosis thing. I just don’t want what you see today to confuse your memory. What did you hear?” His hand left her shoulder leaving the cool air in its wake.
“His Halligan was imbedded in the door, but then there was a soft …” She tried to think how to describe it. “Like a … whooomp … an intake of air and an exhale at the same time.”
“Could you still hear the grinding noise?”
“It stopped?” Lu felt her eyebrows knit together and brought her fingers up to her forehead to rub out the crease.
“It’s okay.” Byron’s voice was low, almost caressing. “The memory is there. You don’t have to force it.”
“The grinding did stop—there were just fire sounds, then the voice again.” She turned around to look at Byron. “What do you think that grinding noise was?”
He shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“But …”
“We’re collecting data. Eventually it will all make sense. How’re you feeling?”
“Um, fine.” Actually she felt overwhelmed by his proximity. It wasn’t that he wore strong cologne, but his soothing scent overrode all other thoughts. What the hell? Maybe this was emotional transference or some sort of shit like that because he had just walked her back through a traumatic experience.
“Good. I’d like you to do me a favor. Put a paper and pencil beside your bed for the next few nights and if you have any dreams about the fire, write ’em down.” He looked at her face and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to hear your dreams, but sometimes that’s the way our brains process painful memories. So you might write something down that will trigger a memory. And that’s what I want to hear.”
“That makes sense,” she conceded.
“You want lunch?”
Startled, Lu looked at her watch. It was only eleven-thirty. “Sure. Um, do you get to write these off, or should I be chipping in here?”
“Department budget, but thanks for asking.” His eyes crinkled with his smile. “Don’t tell Ace and Marcus or they might try pulling rank for the job. Any preferences for food?”
“Anything’s fine.” Lu was relieved he hadn’t been paying out of pocket for her. It always was a tricky thing asking, but sure better to know early who was footing the bills. “Are we done here, then?”
“I think so.” He headed to the door. “You were teamed with Bellevue 2 from the outside of the building after that?”
“Yup.”
“And they worked their hoses from the northeast side of the building.” He took off his helmet and dragged his fingers through his hair, pausing mid stroke to ask, “When you were inside, did you sense that the fire was surrounding you from three sides, or just two?”
“Well, I couldn’t see it all—”
“I know, but what did you feel?”
“It felt like two fires and when they joined, they escalated.”
“Hmm.” He nodded, took a last slow scan of the burnt-out interior and strode outside. Lu scrambled to catch up to him. He put the board back over the door and pounded a few nails in with the back of his screwdriver. “Shoulda brought some duct tape,” he mumbled as he kicked the bottom of the plywood into place. “Good enough. Now, food.”
*
“The arson cop offered to paint your apartment?” Susan screeched. Lu had called her old friend from Springfield needing her advice for a change. Mostly their late-night phone marathons were about Susan’s scummy ex-husband Ross’ shenanigans and her daughter Kaitlynn. Lu wondered how long it would take Susan to turn the conversation back to her problems.
“Not exactly,” Lu switched the phone to her other ear. “He said he liked painting and that he and Ace had painted Red’s house. He seemed to think painting would make my apartment more homey.”
“That sounds like an offer. I think he likes you.”
“But I work with him, so it doesn’t make any difference.”
“Only temporarily, and that didn’t stop you from making out with Joshie-baby,” Susan teased. It was annoying the way Susan reduced everything to teenaged drama.
“Don’t remind me. I could’ve lost my job for that.”
“You didn’t though. So which one is cuter? Cop or fireman?”
“How did we get onto this discussion? Weren’t we talking about painting?”
“I don’t care about that. I wanna talk about which guy you’ve got the hots for.”
Lu laughed. “Okay, I guess ‘Joshie-baby’—” God it was difficult for her to refer to him like that. Probably even his lovers called him Reynolds— “is the more drop-dead gorgeous of the two. Picture Orlando Bloom with a tan and muscles. But Byron is more, I don’t know, real looking. He’s taller than Reynolds, I guess about six-three. You know how I go for the long and lanky musician type.”
Lu giggled. She sounded just as immature as Susan. “Byron’s got light brown hair, usually disheveled. His smile is great, but kinda crooked, and his eyes are really amazing – pale blue with a dark blue rim around the iris. I guess the main difference is that Byron comes across warmer. I get the sense that Reynolds would sell me out if it helped his career. Byron is inquisitive, but I don’t think he’d use anything he figured out against me. He reminds me of Simon Baker.”
“Who?”
“You know. The guy who played the Mentalist on TV? He doesn’t look like him, but he’s got that playful intelligence.”
“Oh yeah, he’s okay.” Susan giggled. “But I’d have to go for the Orlando Bloom guy. I loved him in Pirates of the Caribbean. Hey, that’s perfect. I’ll visit you at work and you can set us up.”
“Sure.” Somehow Reynolds putting up with Susan’s messy life seemed unlikely. Lu also couldn’t imagine Reynolds dating anyone with less than supermodel perfection, but it wasn’t as though she’d seen any of his dates. Unlike the rest of the team, he kept his personal life very private.
“And it may be pretty soon since I’m going to have to come to Seattle to visit Kaitlynn. Damn, I still can’t believe she moved out with her scumbag-father. She’s only fifteen, for god’s sake.” Susan’s voice caught and Lu tried to think how to reassure her.
“Look, she won’t want to stay with Ross for long. Right now it’s her way to punish you. And he won’t be happy either, having to cope with teen angst on his own.”
“You’re not kidding.” Susan’s chuckle ended abruptly. “You will check up on her for me, won’t you?”
“You bet. Look, I’d better go.”
“Okay, phone me after you see her. You have their address, right?”
“Yes, you gave it to me twice. I’ll drop by tomorrow after work and chat with her.”
“But don’t let Ross see you.”
“I know. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Lu. I really appreciate your help. I don’t think I could’ve survived the last year without your support.”
“It’s nothing. That’s what friends and phones are for. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Bye.” Susan let out a small sniffle as she discon
nected.
Lu hung up and stretched her arms above her head. Good god, over two hours on the phone, no wonder both her ears were sore. Poor Susan. Lu felt guilty she wasn’t there to help her get through all this. Susan had always been there for her. Hard to believe it was just four years since Lu’s own life had blown up, starting with that brutal bike accident, then discovering her boyfriend, Paul was cheating on her—Man he’d been vicious, blaming her body, her lovemaking, pretty well everything about her for “forcing him to cheat.” That was about when she began psychically starting fires when she got upset and Susan was the only person she could confide in. She’d even suggested Lu become a fire fighter to learn how to put out the damn things. Now it was hard to even remember herself as a 28 year old computer sales technician.
Enough dwelling on the past. Lu glanced around her living room, trying to decide what color she would paint it, or even if she should paint it. It was white, but at least it was clean.
Her mind wound back to Susan’s question about which man was hotter. Thoughts of that smoldering kiss with Reynolds had somehow been replaced by curiosity about Byron. She wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped in his arms. He wasn’t obviously muscular like Reynolds, but from what she could tell he had a good body. That was another thing; Reynolds seemed to be always wearing tight clothes that emphasized his great physique. Byron was less obvious. And it might be nice to be kissed by someone taller than her—she could actually wear heels if they went out and not tower over him.
God, what was she thinking? It wasn’t like she could date Byron. She worked for him, even if it was only temporary. The trouble with being a fire fighter was that you couldn’t date your co-workers, but dating civilians didn’t work either because they never understood the shifts or the pressures of the job. That was another bonus of working with Byron and the police department; she got to keep her four days on/four days off routine, but she only worked day shifts.
Lu smiled as she got ready for bed. When had she ever been this desperate for male attention? Or was it that working with Reynolds and Byron had pointed out what she’d subconsciously been missing? Well, not so subconsciously considering how she’d reacted to Reynolds’ kiss. And she’d love to find out how Byron fared in the kissing department.
CHAPTER 7
Lu wondered if Byron would mind that she’d let herself into his office before he got in, but the woman at the front desk had insisted. They’d worked there together for a couple of days, but this was her first opportunity to look around without him. It was a small office rendered even smaller by the clutter. A large bookcase behind the desk was filled with an odd assortment of books dealing with police procedures, criminal psychology, pathology, horse racing and an impressive array of classic literature.
Lu stepped closer to examine the framed photographs on the wall. There was a recent one of Byron standing beside the mayor receiving some sort of award and an old group photo taken at her fire hall. It was odd seeing Byron in a fire fighter uniform, although he did look the part. Lu managed to pick out Ace despite him being decidedly thinner and hairier. Byron, Reynolds, and Red looked pretty much the same. A few other pictures showed Byron with fellow cops and then one of him at the racetrack standing in a crowd behind a horse in the winner’s circle. Was he an owner?
“Oh good, you’re here.” Byron walked in and handed her a cup of coffee. He was dressed casually in well-worn jeans and a gray T-shirt. Damn Susan and her question about whether Byron was hot. Now Lu was admiring his long legs and tight butt as he sat on the edge of his desk looking at the “Pyro Board” as he called it. She tore her eyes away from further wandering. Focus.
“I was a little early. I was thinking—”
“Shit, does that mean I have to pay you more money?” His smile made her heartbeat kick up a notch.
“In fifties and hundreds, please. No.” She took a sip of the coffee to distract her libido. “The only similarities seem to be that these fires always occur after the crop has been harvested, that the operations are the same size—under a hundred plants, and that the homes are leased from offshore owners. But that’s not unusual. It would be much easier to fool a rental agency than risk some local homeowner stopping by to check on the roof or whatever.” When Lu looked at him again, it was hard to remember the point she was making. God, she hated that.
“Yup. And after the fires, it’s practically impossible to trace the burned equipment back to the growers. So what you’re thinking is that these guys are destroying the equipment to cover their tracks?”
That sounds good. “I guess so. But that’d cost a hell of a lot to keep buying new stuff. Why wouldn’t they move the equipment?” Lu drilled her fingertips on top of the desk and stared at the board. There must be some big clue they were missing. “Perhaps someone bought the equipment legitimately, and when the warranty expires or the machines start aging, they write them off and sell them to grow-ops with the understanding that the new owners will destroy them after use.”
“Or the original owners could have two businesses, one legit that writes off the equipment and the other that uses the supposedly destroyed equipment in their grow-ops. I like that.” Byron looked at her with a gleam in his eye. “How could we test this theory?”
“Recycling plants? I don’t know. How do hydroponic farmers dispose of old equipment?”
“Let me see.” Byron sat down at his computer and began typing. “Meanwhile, you think of other places that could legitimately use the equipment.”
“Universities?”
He handed her a pen and paper. “Write ’em down.” He focused on his screen again.
“Ohh.” Lu scribbled down medical marijuana. She drilled her fingertips again and then stopped to write.
“What’ve you got? You’re driving me nuts.”
“Sorry. Nurseries and medical marijuana,” Lu told him.
“Nurseries?” Byron looked puzzled. “Oh, of course, plants and trees. My mind flipped to babies, God knows why.” He glanced back at his screen. “Nope, let me check something else.”
“What, all my suggestions suck?”
“No. I’m on something different.” He continued typing with his right hand while his other waved at her distractedly. “You keep brainstorming.”
“But shouldn’t we be … never mind.”
“What?”
“Why did we do all that searching through the ashes and looking at the fire scene, if that isn’t what we’re looking for?”
“You’re right. Josh’ll have my head for this.”
Oh shit, did she just talk him out of using her? “I don’t mean that, but—”
“Okay, so let’s backtrack here.” Byron rubbed his chin with his thumb. “If our supposition is that the growers are setting their own fires to cover the equipment sales tracks, how can we verify that with information gleaned from the fire scene?”
“Is there any chance that a piece of equipment might’ve survived enough to give us a serial number?”
“Write that down.” Byron went back to his computer. “Oh, and write ‘check with neighbors for any moving or delivery trucks to that address.’”
Lu did and then sat and stared at the board again. The timing was right on all three fires. They were all about three months apart and, according to Byron, that would be the amount of time to grow and harvest a crop. The Baker Street one was the first with a casualty, but forensics weren’t likely to ID the body for a least a few weeks unless they got lucky. And that was assuming that they could ID it. Lu was shocked when Byron told her how many victims remain anonymous.
“Hey.” Lu stood up quickly as the thought struck her. “If we’re right, it’d only really work for the first crop.”
“Huh?”
“You have your aging equipment. You write it off and burn it. But then the next crop is only three months later. Your new equipment isn’t ready to be written off yet.”
“Right. So we’re looking for someone buying near end-of-life equipmen
t from farmers. Damn. That means we’ve just opened our search way past hot-house farmers.”
“Sorry.”
“No, that’s good.” Byron rubbed his face. “We want to keep our net as wide as possible so we don’t rule anyone out prematurely.” He grinned at her. “You’re good at this detective work.”
“Thanks.” Lu tried to hide her embarrassment at the unexpected compliment.
“Here we go,” Byron said as he punched a final key and stood up from his computer. Three strides and he was at the doorway. He turned to her. “You coming? Bring your coffee.”
Lu ran to catch up, then almost bumped into him as he stopped just outside the door to pick up some papers spewing out of the printer. He folded the papers and stuffed them in his back pocket.
“Where we going?” Lu asked.
“To find out where to sell used hydroponics equipment. We may have to hit a few stores before we get any leads.”
“Couldn’t we just phone and ask?” Lu nodded at the young cop they passed on their way out the door. He looked like one of the guys that had popped into the office the other day, but with the short hair and uniforms, most of the men looked similar.
“That’s no fun.” Byron grinned mischievously. “Besides, you can get a lot more information in person by reading body language. My car’s around the side.”
Byron was quieter than usual as he drove them to the outskirts of town. Lu felt the urge to fill in the silence, but managed to resist. Instead she discreetly enjoyed his unique scent that tinged the air between them. It was either a cologne or soap and fresh, but very sexy. She imagined his reaction if she leaned over and kissed his neck. She stifled a smile then focused on the scenery outside the car. This was work, damn it.
