Wrapped in Flame

by Caitlyn Willows

  CJ grabbed his arm as he turned to walk away. “You can’t investigate this scene, Mike. It’s a conflict of interest. You know Keith will jump all over anything you find.”

  No matter how professional Mike was, Keith would find a way to cast doubt on his work. Was he crazy enough to have started the fire for that reason? To try to ruin Mike’s career? “Let him. No one’s stopping me from doing my job.”

  He passed Erica in the hallway on his way to get dressed. She was in jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers, clutching her purse under one arm. They didn’t exchange any words. Her eyes were blank of emotion. That alone made him want to pull her into his arms and promise her that everything was going to be all right. Holding her would only waste precious time. In less time than it took to think about it, Mike was in uniform, and they were heading out the door.

  Erica’s gasp said it all when they stepped outside. Though the house was a good five miles away, red-yellow flames lit the night sky.

  “Go.” Mike pressed his hand against the small of her back. “I won’t be long.”

  She caught his hand, gave it a squeeze, and then hurried to join CJ in his truck. Mike was seconds behind them.

  The ten-minute drive from his place to the fire station felt like eternity. Longer still for him to snag his turnout gear, though that took three minutes tops. The hell of hitting every fucking red light from the station to the scene was agony. Finally he reached the outskirts of the scene and parked behind CJ’s truck, rather than flexing his authority as fire investigator and charging in. No sense antagonizing the deputies any further than Keith’s actions earlier had already done. Mike liked to think they could all be professionals and work together. But the deputies questioning Sandy about Keith’s stolen vehicle when the sheriff’s department had taken no action regarding his rape of her hadn’t gone well at all. Mike couldn’t help wondering if that was intentional on Keith’s part—all part of a setup to torch his house.

  He shrugged his suspicions away, determined to seek facts. The deputy at the roadblock nodded at Mike’s approach. “One of the tenants is on scene. The wife. From what I’ve heard, no one’s seen the husband since late afternoon. There was no car in the driveway, but I understand that was reported stolen. So we don’t know if he was in there or not. The house was gone before any of us got here. If he was inside…”

  “Thanks for the info.”

  He hurried on, scanning the crowd at the edges for something or someone out of place. Nothing suspicious leaped out. Flashing emergency lights blocked his view ahead. Then Chief Stanton’s silhouette cut the glare. Erica and CJ were beside him. Mike aimed their way at the same moment Craig lifted a wave his direction. Spray from the hoses blew everywhere. The firefighters’ attention was on keeping the surrounding houses safe. Erica’s place was nearly down to the studs.

  Erica glanced his way. Her eyes were wide, and even though he wasn’t beside her, Mike could feel the hitch in her breath. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arm around her. Erica tucked into the embrace. Mike didn’t care who saw.

  “It was hot and fast,” Craig Stanton said. “There wasn’t much we could do. It was fully involved by the time we got here.”

  She nodded but said nothing. The tear trickling down her cheek said enough. Wide eyes studied the destruction. “Everything’s gone. All of it.”

  How many times had Mike heard victims say that? It always hurt. This time it nearly killed him. He scanned the crowd standing behind the crime tape. Not a sign of Keith anywhere. Two of Erica’s neighbors pointed her out to another deputy keeping herd on them. He hit the radio mic on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for his partner to show up. The sight of him raised Mike’s hackles. It was the same man—Kowalski—who’d come to the station earlier, looking to pin Sandy for Keith’s stolen vehicle. Despite the fact they all appreciated the man was only doing his job, that interaction hadn’t gone well. This one most likely wouldn’t be any better, judging from the officer’s scowl. Of course, pulling a twelve-hour shift could have something to do with that, but Mike doubted it. Kowalski headed their way. He ignored everyone else and went straight for Erica.

  “Ma’am, I understand you live here,” Kowalski said as he neared.

  Her chin came up. No trace of tears remained. “I moved out this afternoon, or technically, yesterday afternoon. I’m sure my neighbors can verify that. It was a rental.”

  Deputy Kowalski scribbled notes on a tiny pad. “And where’s your husband?”

  “I have no idea where my soon-to-be ex-husband is.”

  “Are you aware he reported his car stolen earlier this evening?” He glanced under his eyebrows at her.

  “I am.”

  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the people behind the tape. “Your neighbors tell me your husband had your bags packed and waiting for you. That words were exchanged.”

  “Divorce was imminent. He got to the courthouse first.” She shrugged. “No words were exchanged, per se. He tried to instigate an argument. I ignored him, gathered my bags, and left.”

  More notes. “And where were you this evening, ma’am?”

  “I went to a real-estate office to find another place to live, made a phone call to get assistance moving my furniture, and have essentially been with friends continually from that point on.”

  He poised his pen over his pad. “Names?”

  “Are you accusing me of something, Deputy?”

  “Ma’am, I’m just—”

  “Because in what world would I set fire to a house that contains everything I own?” she shouted.

  Mike drew her away from Kowalski. She stiffened, and he knew she was ready to jerk away.

  “She was with us until eleven,” CJ said.

  “And then she was with me,” Mike added. Kowalski could make what he wanted from that information. Judging from the look he sliced between Mike and Erica, he had no problem connecting the dots.

  “If you’re looking for someone to blame for this”—Erica waved her hand toward the inferno—“I wouldn’t put it past Keith to set the place on fire to keep me from getting my things. It’d be par for the course, considering all he’s done in his inexplicable vendetta today.”

  Kowalski stuffed his notepad into his shirt pocket. “Finding out your wife’s having an affair can do crazy things to a man.”

  Her muscles tensed under his hand. Mike let her go. She was in Kowalski’s face a half second later.

  “I was not having an affair,” she spat out.

  He had the good sense to back away and the stupidity to actually put his hand on his weapon.

  Mike jerked her behind him. “Don’t you even think about it, Kowalski. You’re the one baiting her and making false assumptions.”

  “I’m doing my job, Captain.” His nostrils twitched along with the hint of a sneer Mike heard in his voice.

  “No.” Mike got up in his face. “You’re doing my job, Deputy.”

  Chief Stanton edged himself between them. “Captain Barnard’s right. Your job is crowd control, not investigation. This is our scene. Back the hell away.”

  The groan and splinter of wood jerked their attention toward the house. The roof caved in on one side, accompanied by a collective “whoa” from those who saw it.

  “I want you in there as soon as possible, Mike,” Craig told him. “This was no accident. We’ll have this knocked down soon enough.”

  Which, from the look of things, Mike guessed to be about another twenty minutes. Thank God they were able to spare the houses around it. Considering the intensity of the fire, if it had raged for much longer, the whole block could have gone up.

  “I’m going to work the crowd to see what I can learn,” Mike told them.

  No way did he trust Kowalski’s assessment. He was too aggressive not to be bucking for a promotion and still holding a grudge from their earlier confrontation at the station. So much for being professional.

  The neighbors gave Mike a hodgepodge of information, mo
stly telling him what someone else had told them. At three in the morning, most of them had been asleep. Mike heard too much about “Keith kicking her out like she was yesterday’s trash.” The only saving grace was that the neighbors who witnessed that event didn’t take kindly to Keith treating her that way. He was apparently as popular here as he was at work. Not. No one had seen Keith when the fire was reported. One lady out walking her dog at midnight because the dog refused to poop in his own yard said she thought she saw Keith outside. Another man smoking in his backyard around one thought he saw Keith jump the back fence. There’d been no sign of anyone else lurking or anything suspicious. No one among them had reported the fire. He made a mental note to check with the 911 dispatch for the reporting phone number.

  “Ready when you are,” Tim radioed him.

  “Copy that,” Mike replied and joined Tim near the entrance to the house. Smoky tendrils curled from the framework.

  “Any luck on Keith’s whereabouts?” he asked.

  “Not much. No one saw him, some people maybe saw him.”

  “It was fully engulfed by the time we arrived. No one could have survived that.”

  Fully geared up, they flicked on their high-beam flashlights and stepped inside. The partially collapsed roof made it impossible to get to the kitchen and right side of the living room. That would have to wait until morning. Mike would be able to make a better evaluation in the daylight. Despite the destruction, he could detect the path the fire had taken. A river of black trailed through the house. Arson. An accelerant of some kind—most likely gasoline—had been poured throughout. He followed it backward, noting the alligator-skin pattern along the way, how the scales grew smaller. There was little doubt he was heading toward the point of origin—the bedrooms.

  Erica’s was first. A quick flash of his light in there revealed nothing left, like the rest of the house. Keith’s room was at the end. This was where the fire started. His and Tim’s flashlights hit the room at the same time.

  “Shit,” they muttered.

  “We’ve got a body,” Tim reported over the radio.

  Mike edged forward, following the trail right to the remains of the bed and the body curled on top. Most people presumed the pugilistic pose meant the person had been alive when the fire started, not realizing the “fighter’s stance” is what happened when a body cooked. No one liked to hear that. Not even Mike. It always made him feel sick inside.

  He passed his light over the body and the softball-size hole in the skull. From falling debris or something else? No way to tell for certain on this cursory evaluation. It’d be up to the coroner to make that determination. Mike hoped it was falling debris. Judging from the size, location, and consistent charring around the hole, though, Mike knew it was something else.

  This was murder, pure and simple. It didn’t take a genius to guess who the sheriff’s department would target as suspects. Even in death, Keith would make their lives hell.

  Chapter Six

  Erica pressed her steepled fingers against her lips. Everyone watched her for some show of emotion as the news rippled from fire-department personnel to the sheriff’s deputies and onward to the eavesdropping crowd that a body had been found inside. They could make what they wanted of her tears. Everything she’d worked for was gone. True, they were only things, and no one could erase the memories of them. It was the shock of having to rebuild from scratch that weighed her down. Yet, mixed in with the utter despair over her situation was relief. Keith was dead. It was over. He could never hurt anyone again. What kind of monster did that make her, silently cheering over a man’s death? Even a man as reprehensible as Keith.

  “You all right?” CJ touched her shoulder.

  She could only nod. She was okay in ways she’d never imagined…and screwed in so many others. God, what unknown debts had he left in his wake that she would have to deal with? True, her largesse would take care of those, but how long would it be before she could collect on that?

  “You had renter’s insurance?” he asked.

  Erica cleared her throat and dropped her arms. “Yes. Absolutely.” There was Keith’s life insurance as well, unless he’d removed her as beneficiary. As far as she knew, the money still went to her. He’d removed his sister once they were married. His “great show of love” gesture and the crux of one argument after another when Erica hadn’t responded in a similar fashion.

  His sister. Erica had no way to contact her or his parents. They’d never met, never spoken. She had no information about them. More proof of the blinders on her eyes when she’d married Keith. Calls to make, a funeral to plan, a life to rebuild… Suddenly her knees refused to hold her any longer. She sank to the curb and buried her face in her hands. Everything was gone. Furniture, kitchenware, linens…irreplaceable photographs from childhood on, books. Not everything, she reminded herself. Important papers were in the safe-deposit box. She had her clothing, computer, jewelry—

  “Mrs. Randall?”

  Erica scrubbed the tears away and looked up at the man hovering over her. He flashed a badge and squatted down to her level.

  “I’m Detective Posner with the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department. I’m sorry for your loss. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  The words seemed to rush out of the guy. A man on a mission. Out for blood came to mind. He was dressed in a rumpled dark suit and sported a five o’clock shadow. Sweat glistened on his forehead.

  “I’ve already spoken to Deputy Kowalski.” And she didn’t feel like dealing with the bureaucratic bullshit of answering the same questions again.

  Posner managed a smile. A piece of his last meal was stuck in his teeth. Erica didn’t enlighten him.

  “Yes, I have that information,” he said. “I needed a bit more, considering the nature of the fire.”

  Arson, of course. “Go on.”

  “Any idea who could have done such a thing?”

  At least she could answer with all honesty. “I don’t.” Did she have to state the obvious? That the person who did this had risked the lives of their neighbors? That she’d lost everything as a result? The only person selfish enough to do so was Keith. She somehow doubted he would have killed himself in the process. Even he wasn’t that stupid. Unless he’d messed up and gotten caught in his own trap.

  “Thank you. Do you have a way I can contact you if I have any more questions?”

  She was tempted to tell him to go through her attorney. Doing so might make her an even bigger suspect. Cops would claim she had a damn fine reason to kill Keith. Hidden money, a divorce action in a community property state. With Keith dead, she wouldn’t have to share a dime. No, better to lie low. She gave Posner her cell phone number. Then he was off to where Craig Stanton stood talking with Mike and Tim. Scowls greeted him, and the exchange between Posner and the three went downhill from there.

  “Hey.” CJ sat beside her. “Why don’t I take you back to Mike’s house?”

  It made sense. Mike had a lot of work to do. Besides, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do here anyway. “What’s going on?” She jerked her chin toward the men.

  He braced his wrists on his knees. “On the surface, it looks like the fire was set to cover a murder. Mike found a big hole in the skull. Won’t know for sure until after the coroner’s report.”

  It made them all suspects. Maybe a lawyer wasn’t a bad idea after all.

  “Posner wants to interview all fire-department persons of interest at the station. He wants us to vacate the scene while he calls in an arson investigator from San Bernardino County. He says the fact that Mike was having an affair—”

  “We were not—”

  “I know.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “We all know that.”

  Ah, but the rumors would paint an ugly picture. She wanted to say she didn’t care what other people thought, but in this situation, what other people thought and what she and Mike could prove were two different things. At the very least, one or both of them might lose
their jobs. At the worst… Damn, could they wind up in jail when they hadn’t done anything? The only alibi they had was each other.

  How much would they lose before this nightmare ended?

  “Yeah, I’d like to leave.” The first of many lies she’d have to tell to protect Mike. Leaving was the last thing she wanted and the first thing she had to do. He wouldn’t understand she’d done it for him, and if he did, he wouldn’t care. A clean break was best, even if it meant there’d be nothing of them once the dust settled.

  “I’ll let Mike know.”

  Erica started for CJ’s truck. The clean break started now. Not just from Mike but from all of them, because they were one big family. A family she had no business being a part of. Her heart hurt at the thought of losing them all. Maybe a new start somewhere else would be best.

  You would cause people you care about that much pain?

  She pressed her forehead against the passenger window glass, damning her conscience. The sound of boot steps pulled her upright. Craig was headed her way.

  “I need a favor,” he said, voice low.

  “Anything.” Erica meant it too. And she thought she could walk away.

  “I can’t reach Betty,” he said. “This time of night, she should be home. She’s not answering the landline or her cell. She’s been having a very hard time lately, and I’m worried. I don’t want her to know I’m checking up on her. With what’s happened tonight, you going to her wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary. She was also pretty mad earlier when I told her about Keith’s bullshit. And since I can’t reach her…”

  He suspected her of this? Erica knew that Betty had been upset since her mother died. Not only grief stricken but also guilty over the inheritance that had been left to her. With Craig working and their kids off to college, she’d had a lot of time to dwell on her loss, despite her job and volunteer work. She was as protective of the men and women under her husband’s command as Trish was, as they all were. And she had the knowledge and skill to pull this off. Could Keith’s attack on them have been her tipping point?