by Debra Erfert
Candice stared at Alex with a penetrating gaze he felt deep in his heart. It wasn’t the first time she’d stared like that. She’d always seemed to carefully consider things he told her, like now. He’d missed that.
“I guess. . . you’re right. It probably would be better after they’re rested.” Candice tugged on the bottom edge of her hospital gown. It had inched higher on her legs. Alex couldn’t stop himself from watching. When he looked into her eyes, he found her watching him—watching her. She wasn’t smiling. And his heart sank again.
Chapter 4
CANDICE PACED HER small kitchen, waiting for a call back from Alex. He told her this morning that he’d get the mother’s contact number. He’d stopped her from finding the woman in the hospital at 3 a.m., which made sense, although she hated to admit it. Trauma could easily drain a person of strength and rational thought. But this morning after Candice was released, she discovered the mother had been released earlier in the morning. Unless Candice wanted to bring in the top brass from the police department to find the family, she had to depend on Alex to find that information for her.
She grabbed a cold orange soda from the fridge and popped it open. After a couple of bubbly swallows, her temper cooled enough to focus her thoughts. It was ridiculous to believe he wouldn’t come through for her. Alex had never failed in anything he set his mind to do. He made sergeant in only five years. Finding out about his rank not only surprised her, but amazed her, too. Being with him for several hours woke her heart. Heck, being with him for a single minute might’ve done her in. She had missed him, and until last night, she hadn’t realized to what extent. But she wouldn’t let him know. He was still a cop. Law enforcement was the single most dangerous job anyone could have, and she wanted no part of it.
The doorbell rang, bringing her out of the uncomfortable reminiscence. It rang again before Candice was able to get through her apartment and rush into the attached office. She’d inherited the two-story apartment building from her grandfather after he’d died ten years ago, when she was barely seventeen—one of many buildings around Phoenix, Mesa, Gilbert, Chandler, and Scottsdale, and a few in other states as well. Candice’s home was one of the oldest in his investment portfolio, or more correctly, her portfolio. She occupied the top floor, and a sweet old lady had lived on the main floor for the past thirty years.
The dinged and dented, refinished hardwood floors were original to the building. After Candice settled on being a private investigator five years ago, she had it remodeled to fit her new needs. She’d had it bisected by a reputable contractor. The majority of the space was her apartment, but a smaller area at the front she used for her office and lab. All her school books were stored in ceiling-tall bookshelves and encompassed the whole wall. She also got copies of the same books, manuals, and electronics as her mentor had in his office. Gil taught her well.
At the top of the front stairs that led to the office, she had a vintage frosted glass door installed, with “Shane Investigations” painted in black bold print, along with her cell phone number and email address. Her office took up a quarter of the apartment’s floor plan and had a solid wood door dividing the office from her living area. She always kept it locked.
Even before she reached the frosted glass door, Candice knew who was standing on the other side. Although it wasn’t much more than a silhouetted shadow, those broad shoulders were unmistakably Alex’s. He didn’t call.
It took another moment before she could bring herself to unlock the deadbolt, the kind that didn’t need a key to unlock from the inside, unlike at the fire last night. She stood back. “Come in, Alex.”
When he didn’t immediately open the door, Candice began to wonder if someone else stood on the other side of the frosted glass door. Just as she reached for the knob, it turned before she touched it. A sudden thrill shot through her heart when she saw his smiling face, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks. He hadn’t shaved, and the short bristles of whiskers coated his skin. It took her back to when she was truly happy—with him.
She cleared her throat before speaking. “Did you find the woman’s number?”
His smile faded a touch. “You sound better.”
“So do you.”
Alex nodded, and more of his smile disappeared. “I spoke with the investigating detective. The mother lost her phone in the fire, but I found out where they’re staying. A Phoenix hotel.”
Candice turned and walked to her desk then took a pad of notepaper and a pen from the drawer. “What’s the name of the hotel?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Candice pivoted around, surprised by him again. “What do you mean you can’t tell me?” She snapped the question, but the smile he had worn when he first stepped inside appeared on his lips again.
“It was given to me because I’m a sergeant. You, on the other hand, are a civilian and not allowed this privileged information.”
In an instant, Candice strode to where he stood by the door and with dogged determination, didn’t poke him in the chest with her finger from anger, although she sincerely wanted to. “Then why did you come here?”
The dimples dug deeper in his cheeks. “I’m taking today off, and I’m headed there now, you know, just to see how they’re doing. Did you want to come with me?”
It seemed he surprised her again. “Yes!” Candice rushed to the hardwood door and swung it open. “Give me a minute to change my clothes and grab my backpack.” Liz brought it to her last night at the hospital. The clothes she wore last night smelled worse than her skin. They’d need to run through the washer a few times before they could smell spring fresh again. Candice touched the back of her hair. She’d twisted her long curly hair up on the back of her head and pinned it, using a big Italian tortoise claw clip. If she’d known she was going to get company, no matter who it was, Candice would’ve spent time flat-ironing it straight. All she’d done this morning was take a shower to get rid of the nasty smell of smoke that seemed to stubbornly cling to her skin, and change into sweatpants and an old T-shirt.
Alex smelled wonderfully like old leather. Considering the pearl snap, Western-styled shirt and worn blue jeans he wore, and if he hadn’t changed his routine, then he’d been riding a horse before he came over to her apartment. He had three stabled at his grandparents’ ranch on the outskirts of Phoenix.
“You remodeled your apartment,” Alex said. He must be just outside her bedroom door.
“I needed an office.” Candice stood inside her walk-in closet, lightly running her hand along the top row where she kept her shirts—some of them, anyway. She had an assortment of dressy slacks and stacks of blue jeans folded on the bottom shelf. Along another wall were all her dresses and suits of various dark colors. Her shoes and boots were tucked away in a built-in shelving unit designed specifically for footwear. Her collection of purses and bags were on the top shelf. All her other clothes and accessories were still in her old bedroom at Grandfather’s house. A full-length mirror hung on the inside of the closet door.
“You could’ve rented a nice office space downtown.”
She owned several commercial buildings in Phoenix, thanks to her grandfather. But they were all glass-and-metal type of places. Warm wood and vintage furnishings felt homier to Candice.
“I wanted someplace inconspicuous, something cozier.” She pulled a pretty bold blue blouse off a hanger before taking a black, wide legged pair of slacks off next. They’d be perfect for the boots she purchased last week. The low heel felt great when she walked. Candice dressed quickly and then dabbed on a little makeup before leaving the room. Not that she wanted to impress Alex, necessarily.
“Did you look for prints on the note your suspect left last night?” Alex asked. His voice sounded farther away, possibly near the dining table where she’d left her backpack open.
As she pulled on her favorite leather jacket, she hurried to where Alex stood beside her backpack. “About an hour ago. It’s clean. But . . .” Candice actually felt l
ike smiling for the first time since the fire. “I had a security video camera installed last week. It takes in the porch area plus a little bit more.” She took her iPad out of her backpack and placed it on the dining table. “The camera activated the moment his body stepped within range.”
She stayed quiet while it ran through its short recording.
“The best angle is a profile shot.” Alex brought his gaze up to Candice. “Did you print this out?”
Candice reached into her backpack and brought out a large manila envelope. “Of course. Joslyn should be able to identify him by this picture.”
“When are you going to show this to Detective Adams—today?”
She slid the envelope and iPad into the main compartment of her backpack. “I want to show it to Joslyn first. If she can’t positively identify him, then I’ll have to do another stakeout. Are we ready to go to the hotel?” Candice’s mood was lifted to a much better state. It could be because her case was coming to an end, or it might possibly have something to do with Alex going to an interview with her.
“I’m all yours.”
He was all hers? That simple statement gave her butterflies, yet emotionally disturbed her. She’d tried so hard to forget him, and at times, she actually did forget how happy she had been when they were together.
~*~
“Could we stop by the site of last night’s fire? I’d like to get a look at what’s left of it before we talk to the owners.” Candice had her sturdy backpack on her lap, going through the contents. Besides her iPad, camera with night vision, and flashlight, she had everything she needed to take prints with. Having a police officer with her gave her a certain advantage. No one would stop him from looking around.
“Do you plan on going inside?” Alex’s dark brows pinched together, most likely in apprehension, as he glanced at her backpack.
“Probably.”
“Can’t you wait until the investigator does his job? You can get the report.”
“You can stay outside if you’re worried.” Candice had a déjà vu moment. “Why does this sound familiar?”
“Because we went through this last night,” he muttered, tightening his hands around the steering wheel. His lips were pressed into a flat line. “Fine, we’ll go there first.”
“Alex?” Candice waited until his eyes were on her longer than a brief second. “I can do this by myself. I’m sure Captain Gleason can help me out with the family. And he won’t get angry at me. He trusts me. I’m guessing you don’t.”
Now her stomach was churning. A little food in it might help.
“Oh, Candice—” Alex reached over and grasped her hand—“of course I trust you, but I worry about you, too. I barely have you back in my life and I almost lost you again—”
“Alex,” Candice broke in. “We’re not—”
“I’m not talking about you becoming my girlfriend again.” He gently squeezed her hand. “I want to be your friend. I’ve missed you. I just . . .” He sighed, something she rarely heard from him. “I want you in my life, and if the only way I can do that is to be your friend, then I’m willing to accept that.”
Candice stared at his big hand engulfing hers while an intense sensation burned her throat, choking her from immediately responding. He missed her, but she figured he would—for a while, like she had missed him. But the reason she’d left him hadn’t changed—at least not much. He had an SUV declaring who he was as if he drove a billboard with a target on it that said “Shoot me.” Her mother’s face flashed in her mind, and she blinked it away. But . . . if all he wanted was to be her friend, then, maybe . . .
“You won’t lecture me on how I do my job?” Why did she feel like crying?
Alex lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug but he didn’t let go of her hand. “A good friend tells another friend when they might be doing something dangerous and counsel them against it. And that’s all I’m doing right now. That house had a roaring fire in it. It’s probably unsafe to go inside.”
Candice stared at his handsome profile. He did look worried. And all he did was give her logical, although unsolicited, advice. “I promise I won’t go inside if I think the structure is unsound, if that makes you feel better—as a friend.”
The dimple appeared, along with a tentative smile, and he did something she hadn’t expected; he kissed her hand.
“No kissing. ‘Just friends’ don’t kiss each other.” Her hand tingled from his lips.
“That’s not entirely true. My dad’s next door neighbor kisses me—on the cheek—every time she and her husband come over for a barbeque.”
“Oh . . .” What could she say to that? He finally let loose of her hand.
Another ten minutes later, Alex pulled his truck to an easy stop at the curb of the damaged house.
“The firefighters did a good job containing the fire. The house is still standing,” Candice said wistfully.
Alex told her, “The windows are gone.”
“They break the windows to ventilate the fire with fans. It draws out the smoke and heat, helping them put it out faster.”
Alex stared at her. “You’ve been keeping up with firefighting techniques?”
Candice picked up her backpack from the floor, shifting the strap to her shoulder. “It kind of gets into the blood. Come on, let’s go.”
The moment they started walking up the driveway, a husky security guard came around the shady side of the house and approached them with a noticeable limp, although it didn’t seem to slow him down much. He greeted Alex with a nod and said, “Hello, officer.” It was then she noticed the badge pinned to his belt.
Candice pulled her little flat wallet containing her Private Investigator’s ID from her jacket pocket and held it out to him, open. “I’m Candice Shane.”
“Are you working for the family or insurance company, Ms. Shane?” the guard asked her, but she couldn’t answer him before Alex intervened.
“Ms. Shane discovered the fire and rescued the family from the fire last night.” It must’ve impressed him.
“I heard about that,” the guard said. “I also heard why the garage door looks the way it does.” He grinned at Candice, staring at her intently enough to make her feel uncomfortable. “I’d like to have witnessed that firsthand.”
“Actually, it was Sergeant Delaney behind the wheel. He crawled through the dining room window after me.”
“Good job, Sergeant! You saved the family.”
Candice could see a tinge of pink coming to the surface of Alex’s ears. He’d been given credit in saving four lives, but in reality, he only came with her after some argument. He looked embarrassed.
“I was only along for the ride,” Alex said while glancing between the guard and Candice. “I did what I was told.”
That was the truth. He did everything she’d asked of him, without question.
“We came here to survey the damage.” Candice took out a little notebook from a small pocket in her backpack, along with a pair of latex gloves.
“Can I ask you how you discovered the fire, Ms. Shane?” the guard asked as he led them to the destroyed garage door.
Candice was surprised about that. She hadn’t thought about how she was going to get inside. Alex being with her had her rattled, and she liked it too much.
“I was sitting in Sergeant Delaney’s cruiser at midnight last night, and I saw light smoke drifting through a street light.” Candice gazed at Alex. “We saw flames burning from behind the front window.”
“That was great timing,” the guard said. “Why didn’t you just call the fire department and let them take care of searching the house?”
It was a logical question, one that Alex asked last night. “I saw the tricycle in the yard so I knew there was a good chance that a child was in the house. The living room was in flames, and it would’ve taken five to seven minutes before the first fire trucks would arrive. In that time, the flames in the house would’ve reached a temperature hot enough to flash over. Basically, it would
’ve exploded in fire, and then it would’ve been too late to rescue anybody alive from inside. Three minutes can make a difference in saving a life.”
“How—how do you know that?” the guard stuttered in disbelief.
“That’s the way fire works, and kills.”
“Are you a firefighter, too?” he asked.
“She could be. Ms. Shane has two degrees, one in Criminal Justice and the other in Fire Science and Arson Investigation,” Alex said. He almost sounded like he was bragging—for her.
She tore her eyes away from Alex and said, “And that’s why I’m here. I want to find the fire’s point of origin. I suspect it was the curtains, but I want to be sure.”
“Sure, come on,” the guard said.
Candice and Alex followed him through the gap between the garage and door frame. It was still suspended from one side and leaning crookedly on the concrete driveway. There was enough late afternoon sunshine to illuminate what was left of the garage. “The fire got inside,” Candice said more to herself than the two men with her. The structure was intact. Just the drywall between the garage and living area was destroyed and laid in ruins, its wooden studs rippled crisp from the flames, and she could see into the living area. It would have been different if the van had been in here. Its gas tank would’ve gone up and created extra fuel for the fire.
“Do you know where the electric supply box is?” Candice ask the guard with her hand over her mouth and nose. If they stayed inside much longer, she’d need to put on a respirator to breathe. She cringed at the bitter smell as sharp memories of last night came flooding back.
“Yeah, sure. It’s outside the garage.” He led them back out through the broken garage door and around to the side yard. “Over there,” he said as he took out a cell phone.
The guard didn’t come with them. He walked around to the front of the house, out of sight. She briefly wondered who he was calling. Possibly the homeowners?
