by Harper Allen
“Don’t worry about me, punkin, I’m on a pension.” Her uncle laid a hand over hers. “McQueen’s got nothing to lose, either. But promise me you’ll keep a low profile on this, Tammy. Even though Trainor and Knopf aren’t the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree, they’d have every right to ask for your dismissal if they found out you were involved in an unofficial investigation with Stone McQueen, of all people. I always liked the guy, but he made more enemies than friends when he was in the department.”
“Really?” She shot him a wry glance, and then sighed. “Most of the time I feel like throttling him, too. But he saved my life and risked his own to get Petra out, and it seems he’s right about the fire being deliberately set. Why else would the dog have picked up on an accelerant?”
“Hair spray’s an accelerant. Spot cleaners can be one hell of an accelerant,” Jack said sharply. “If Claudie was trying to do some home dry-cleaning and spilled a little benzine, the dog would alert to that just as quickly as to the scent of gasoline.” He rubbed his jaw. “But I’ll admit McQueen always had a sixth sense where arson was concerned. Is there something I should know about the two of you, punkin?”
To her annoyance Tamara felt herself flush. “When it comes to Stone McQueen, that nurse in the burn unit and I see eye to eye, Uncle Jack. The only difference is that I’m not dating him.” Too late she saw the trap she’d laid for herself. She swallowed. “He’s just kind of living with me for a while,” she finished weakly.
“He’s what?” Now there was an ominous rumble behind the gruffness, and she went on hurriedly.
“He’s staying at my place—and whatever you’re thinking, forget it. It’s strictly separate bedrooms,” she added with some asperity. “Besides, Uncle Jack, I’ve been a grown woman for some time now.”
He leveled a bright blue gaze at her. “I know you’re not the little girl your aunt Kate and I brought home all those years ago, punkin. You grew into a woman who made both of us very proud and your personal life’s your own, so I’ll butt out of this one. But what about Petra? Won’t family services want to vet your living arrangements before they place her with you?”
“I’m sure they will, but they won’t even think of releasing her to me for a week or so. By then McQueen should have found a place of his own.” She raked a restless hand through her hair. “Even then it’s not certain I’ll be approved to adopt her.”
“Because of your work?” Her uncle frowned. “Most firefighters have families. They can’t hold that against you.”
“I don’t think they do. I’ll have to find a reliable woman to come in for the nights I’m on duty, but Lieutenant Boyleston said that won’t be a problem. She even gave me my vacation time early so I could deal with all this.” Tamara’s smile was lopsided. “It’s Petra herself. I don’t think she wants me to be appointed her guardian.”
“You don’t remember how it was when you first came to live with your aunt Kate and me, do you?” There was a quizzical note in his voice.
“Not the first couple of weeks, no.” Tamara heard Stone coming back into the house as she shook her head. “That’s always been kind of a blurry period. Why?”
“You acted the same way you say Petra’s acting now.” As Stone entered the kitchen, Jack stood, smiling ruefully. “Katie was at her wit’s end trying to make you understand this was your new home. You only started to settle in after the nightmares began to fade away, punkin, and that’s probably what Petra’s going through. Give her time. She’ll come around.”
“The puppy thing seemed to help.” Briskly Stone removed a sealed glass jar from the paper bag he was carrying. “Make it damn clear to Dave Leung I want a mass spectrometry, Jack, not some half-assed gas chromo test that might miss something, okay?”
“In other words, tell him how to do his job.” The older man shrugged into a sweater-jacket. “Laddie, people skills were never your strong point. Leung’s a perfectionist. If there’s something there he’ll catch it without me drawing him a map. What’s this puppy thing you mentioned?”
“Yeah.” Preceding the two men toward the front door, Tamara stopped suddenly. “What was that puppy thing? What’s a puppy got to do with Petra? Aw, McQueen, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” His eyes widened as they met her scowl. “Hell, I never said you were getting her one. When I was carrying her back to her hospital bed last night, she made some crack about she’d rather live in an orphanage. I said fine but they wouldn’t let her have a puppy and she asked me if you would. I said it couldn’t hurt to ask.”
“So she asks and I say no. Then I’m the bad guy again. Smooth move, Stone.”
Stalking outside ahead of him, she made her way to her car. He had the keys, she realized as she tried the driver’s side handle and saw him unlocking the passenger door for her. The fact that her shoulder ached enough to make handling a car a chore probably wasn’t why he’d taken over the driving. Stone McQueen was just the type of man who did take over, if a woman was fool enough to let him. She considered grabbing the keys out of his hand, but decided to conserve her energies for the next confrontation.
With McQueen there always would be a next confrontation, she thought in resignation. A puppy, for God’s sake!
“It doesn’t have to be a Great Dane.” He sounded disgruntled. “Hell, Tam, every kid wants a dog. We could take her down to the pound today and just have a look.”
About to get into the car, she stared at him in suspicion. “Did you ever have a dog, Stone?”
“Nah. I moved around too much when I was being fostered out. You getting in or are we just going to stand here all day?” He’d been holding the door open for her. Now he swung it impatiently back and forth on its hinges. She gritted her teeth.
“Stop that, it’s irritating, McQueen. We might drop around to have a look at the dogs, okay? You’re right, it’s not a bad idea, although what I’m going to do about Pangor I don’t know.”
“He’ll get over it.” She froze him with a look. “If you decide to get one,” he added. His growl lacked its usual conviction.
“When Dave has an answer for me I’ll call you right away.” The paper bag tucked under his arm, her uncle paused on the way to his own car, parked ahead of Tamara’s. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a call from Bill or Tommy, too, especially if someone saw you poking around that site, Stone. Watch your back. Those guys could make things uncomfortable for you.”
“You worry too much, Uncle Jack.” Tamara gave him an affectionate smile. “Didn’t I just tell you I’m a big girl now?”
She saw her uncle’s gaze narrow on the man beside her. “Do you think I’m worrying too much, laddie?” His voice was softly challenging.
“I hope so, Jack.” There was an indefinable note in Stone’s reply, and Tamara glanced at him in surprise. He didn’t look at her. “I’ll know better when Dave Leung tells me what’s in that sample.”
“You already know what he’s going to find, don’t you?” She looked from McQueen to her uncle and back again in sudden comprehension. “You both know, and you’ve been keeping it from me.”
She heard the sharpness in her tone and attempted to rein her growing anger in. “No. That’s not the way we’re going to work this, boys. You know what Leung’s going to find. I want to know, too.”
“Now, punkin, I don’t want you worrying about—” her uncle began, but McQueen stopped him.
“Hell, Jack, she’s got a right to know—probably more of a right than we do. You’re retired. I’m a has-been. Tam here still goes out every day and puts her life on the line as a firefighter. Last time I checked, cotton wool wasn’t part of their equipment.”
She stared at him, slightly mollified. “What’s Leung going to find?” she asked more quietly.
“I don’t know what he’s going to find.” Under the olive-drab tee, the broad shoulders lifted. “But I think I know who he’s going to find.”
Now he did meet her eyes, and as he did she felt
a chill settle over her. He was the man in the rooming house again, she thought in sudden dismay. He was looking at her, but he was seeing something from his past, something invisible, something that had been waiting for him all along. He was looking at her, but he was seeing a—
“He’s going to find a ghost,” McQueen said harshly. “Leung’s going to run those tests and he’s going to find a ghost. The bastard’s back, and he’s killing again.”
Chapter Eight
“Family services made it clear Petra should be returned on time, Ms. King. Even if a child’s only with us for a short while, it’s important to create a sense of routine. Come on, Pet, we’re about to sit down for supper. It’s macaroni and cheese with stewed tomatoes—doesn’t that sound yummy?”
It sounded like pig-swill to him, Stone thought shortly. And the woman standing in front of them was a fool, despite the fact that the authorities had enough confidence in her capabilities to have parked Petra with her upon the child’s release from the hospital. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tamara’s cheeks turn a dull crimson shade that went badly with the red and gold of her hair and the pistachio green he’d just noticed around her mouth.
It hadn’t been the greatest day for her. It was over twenty-four hours now and Leung still hadn’t gotten back to Jack with any results. Petra had insisted on going to her mother’s lawyer with them and had put on such a performance that Stone had had to carry her out of the office. And the dog pound, for crying out loud, had been closed. Apparently it was disinfecting day, or some such thing.
They’d brought the kid back five minutes past the agreed-upon time, Stone thought in irritation. So sue them. He was just about to say something along those lines when Petra beat him to it.
“I already ate, so I’m not hungry,” she said coldly. “We had pistachio sundaes.”
This last was unnecessary, since like Tamara she had an Incredible Hulk thing going on around her lips, too. Stone wished he’d caught it on both of them earlier.
“Pistachio?” Her name was Mrs. Hall, but she’d told them to call her Mary. As one of her plump hands went to her mouth in dismay he decided he’d sooner step on a nail than be on a first-name basis with her. “Pistachio? Heavens to Betsy, didn’t it occur to you that the child might be allergic to nuts?”
Beside him Tamara looked stricken. “I asked her first, Mary. I’m not an expert on children, but I do know that much. Maybe it was a little irresponsible taking her out for ice cream so close to suppertime, but there’s no real harm done.” Her smile was conciliatory. Stone wondered just how much self-control it was costing her not to tell Mary where she could get off, the way he would have if he’d been her. “She’ll have her appetite back in an hour or so.”
“That’s not the point.”
There was a patronizing tone in Hall’s voice that set Stone’s teeth on edge. Enough was enough, he decided. Yesterday he’d come to the realization that Tamara thought his manner was a tad blunt, and he’d made a pact with himself to soft pedal his comments for her sake. But he wasn’t bucking for sainthood, dammit.
“You’re not a mother yourself, so you wouldn’t know how important it is for little ones to understand the rules of a household as soon as possible. It’s not fair to the other children in my care to keep Pet’s dinner warm for—”
“Her name’s not Pet,” Stone interrupted, and was about to go on when he found himself being thrown off-stride by the look Tamara was directing at him. What now? he thought defensively. Wasn’t he allowed to say anything anymore?
“Yeah, my name’s not Pet. A pet’s an animal, for cryin’ out loud.” Petra’s green lips thinned and her small shoulders squared pugnaciously. “And I’m allergic to fudgin’ tomatoes, so there.”
“Hey, Tiger, watch the mouth,” he growled automatically. “Look, we’ll come by at the same time tomorrow, okay? And if the freak—” He saw Tamara’s eyes close in despair and corrected himself in midstream. “—the fudgin’ pound’s closed again, we’ll go to a pet store and look at puppies. Deal?”
“Nuh-uh, Stone! I told you, I want a pound dog!”
It was the first time the kid hadn’t looked at him like the sun shone out of—
Stone cut the thought off abruptly. Okay, maybe he’d become a little rough-edged over the past few years, he thought guiltily. Cleaning up his act mentally as well as verbally might not be a bad idea, at least while he was around a little pitcher who’d just demonstrated she had big enough ears to pick up on his occasional slips.
“Petra’s right, pound dogs are better, McQueen.” Tamara didn’t meet his eyes. “We’ll give it another try tomorrow, sweetie. How freak—how darn long does disinfecting a few cages take, anyway?” she added in a harried undertone.
“She can’t bring a dog here.” The woman smoothed her plump hands over the ample apron. “And I’m going to have to clear it with family services before we have another outing, especially since Petra’s falling behind on her schooling every day she’s not attending classes. Perhaps it would be best if you gave me a call tomorrow morning.”
“But they told me—” Tamara stopped. “I’ll do that,” she said, achieving a smile. “Sweetie, if you want to talk or anything, you’ve got my number, right?”
“Somewhere, I guess,” Petra mumbled, putting her hands behind her and toeing a sneaker into the edge of lawn lining the walkway hard enough to dislodge a clump of grass. Stone could see the scrap of paper Tamara had written her phone number on clutched in an ice cream sticky palm, but he kept quiet.
Tamara made a half movement, checking it as Petra turned away. “Call me if you want,” she said to the stiff little back retreating into the house.
“Whatever.”
Petra’s reply was studiedly disinterested, and Stone’s eyes narrowed. When they’d visited her in the hospital yesterday after leaving Jack, the staff psychologist’s opinion had been that for now, at least, it would help if McQueen kept up a relationship with the child. Dr. Weller had bandied about phrases like “security fixation” and “trauma bonding,” but what it really boiled down to was that Petra seemed to have decided that the only person she trusted was Stone.
You picked a real loser to be your hero, kid, he thought as he and Tamara made their silent way to the car. But since you did, you and me are going to have a little heart-to-heart about your attitude toward your mom’s best friend. I’ve got to make you see she’s not your enemy, no matter what you decided when you overheard us the other night.
“It isn’t going to work, McQueen.” As they pulled away from the curb Tamara snapped her seat belt into place. “It doesn’t matter what Claudia wanted, Petra’s never going to accept me, and I don’t really blame her.”
She leaned her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes as she did. “I don’t know anything about raising a child. What was I thinking, giving her ice cream at this time of day?”
“You wanted to smooth things over after what happened in the lawyer’s office,” Stone said edgily. “Bribery’s a perfectly acceptable child-rearing technique as far as I’m concerned. I felt like telling that Hall woman where she could put her damned stewed tomatoes. You notice I didn’t, though.”
“You showed remarkable restraint, for you. Thanks for not shooting your mouth off, Stone.” She opened her eyes. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. By the way, you’ve got pistachio on your chin. I nearly died when I saw it.”
She flipped open the glove compartment. Peeling open a small foil square, she unfolded what looked like a damp tissue and handed it to him. “Moist towelette. Sometimes after I finish my shift I’m too wound up to go home so I drive somewhere and park for a while. These things are like instant washcloths.”
They’d come to a red light. Stone peered in the rearview mirror and swiped at the dab of pale green on his chin before turning to Tamara.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded. “You’ve got it all over you, too.”
“For crying out loud.” As he tipped h
er chin back she tried to move out of his grasp. “What must that woman have thought of me? Dammit, let me go, McQueen. I can do it myself.”
“As Tiger might say, I don’t give a flying fudge,” he said briefly. “For God’s sake, stop jostling my arm. You nearly made me knock the gearshift into drive.”
“I finally figured out what it is about you.” Since his thumb was rubbing at her bottom lip, Tamara’s words were slightly muffled. Stone raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?” If he hadn’t gone and turned into Sir Lancelot the other night, he thought, he could have had this mouth all over him. And despite his dire prediction at the time, he was willing to bet he could have rocked Tamara King’s world hard enough that she wouldn’t have booted him out of bed when it was over. Hell, except for his inconvenient and uncharacteristic attack of conscience the two of them might still be tangled up in her sheets together.
Instead, he was sitting here at a red light getting all hot and bothered when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Because it wasn’t just her mouth. It wasn’t just the memory of how creamily perfect her breasts had looked when he’d had that all-too-brief flash of them in her kitchen. Everything about her seemed to get to him, Stone thought, scrubbing the last of the pistachio from her lower lip and wondering what she’d do if he suddenly decided to lick it clean.
Unconsciously he leaned closer to her, letting a single rebellious strand of her hair brush against his knuckles. The way she always scraped it back in that damn braid was a crying shame. Unbound it was like molten copper and gold, all flowing together in one incredible, silky mass. He knew because he’d seen it like that—just once, but the image was seared into his memory.
He was such a freakin’ screw-up, he thought with sudden anger.
“The thing about you is that you’re the complete male. You’re the prototype,” Tamara mumbled around his fingers. “Are you trying to take my lips off completely, McQueen?”
Abruptly he released her chin and handed her the damp tissue. The light ahead of them was still red. Frowning, she tossed the tissue into a small waste container at her feet.
