Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers Book 6)

by Roxanne St Claire

  He choked in disbelief. “I couldn’t hate you. It’s not possible. I…” Love you. “Could never hate you. So, please, Evie. Forgive me.”

  She dropped her head and let her hair brush his hands. “I forgive you.” The words were barely whispered air, but to him, it sounded like she sang them and trumpets blew.

  “Thank you, E.”

  She raised her head and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Now you have to forgive yourself and give life a real chance.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her closer, needing to express his feelings, but not trusting his lousy words. Instead, he held her so close he could feel her heart beat and each breath go in and out.

  “Declan,” she whispered.

  “Evie.” He smiled.

  “Are we good now?”

  “We’re a hell of a lot better than we were.” Inching back, he looked at her. “Thank you.” He touched his lips to hers. “Thank you for being so…Evie.”

  He felt her smile as he kissed her lightly, tasting tears that could have been his or hers. It didn’t matter.

  After a moment, he opened his eyes and stared at the wall behind her…at the burn pattern of black in the brown wood.

  She turned to follow his gaze, then blocked his view. “Don’t look at it.”

  “I have to.” He stared at the scorched wood. “I have to face that fire, because if I don’t, it’ll consume me for another twenty years. That fire took enough. It took all those years. All that possibility.”

  It wrenched his heart to think they could have been friends, lovers, partners, spouses…parents.

  “Maybe it’s not too late,” she whispered.

  Holy hell. Maybe it wasn’t.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dogs. If anything had changed about Bitter Bark in the last twenty years, Evie realized, it had to be the number of dogs. And tourists.

  There was an abundance of both in Bushrod Square, surprising for a Wednesday morning. This place had definitely grown from a sleepy small town in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains to a bit of a tourist mecca, not unlike Asheville and Boone. But the difference here was that most of those tourists came with a four-legged companion, which only made the whole town even more appealing to Evie.

  The change surely meant a huge boon to businesses that catered to animals, like Kilcannon Veterinary, where she was headed now to see two of Molly’s patients. Since she was early, Evie took the time to stroll through the square and soak up an early autumn morning in what would always feel like “home” even if she lived in Raleigh the rest of her life.

  In the middle of the square, she paused to look up at the statue that stood dead center. Thaddeus Ambrose Bushrod cast a mighty shadow—over the town and her life. Here she was, the last of her line facing the first.

  “Sorry, Big Bad Thad,” she whispered. “As a Royal Navy man, you can appreciate my favorite quote. That ship has—”

  “Evie?”

  She spun at the sound of a woman’s voice, feeling a rush of warmth to her cheeks. “Oh God, I’ve been caught.”

  “Talking to your great-great-great-grandfather? There are few things I respect more.”

  Who would know how many greats there were? Evie studied the other woman, somewhere in her mid-fifties, with brown hair, glasses, and the look of a librarian. Of course—a librarian.

  “Nellie Shaker?” she asked, remembering the woman known as Bitter Bark’s top historian. “How nice to see you.”

  “And you, Evie.” Nellie came closer to offer her hand, which turned into a quick hug.

  “Yeah, I was talking to a statue,” Evie admitted with fake sheepishness, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. “So, guilty as charged.”

  Nellie smiled up at the bronze giant. “He was a great man who started a great town. Nothing wrong with thanking him on the way past.”

  “Well, I wasn’t exactly thanking him,” she confessed. “How are you, Nellie? Are you still running the library and making sure the children of Bitter Bark pay their late fees?”

  She laughed. “I am, and I’ve been the head of the Historical Society for almost a decade. So, that’s why I share your love and respect”—she pointed at Thad—“for this man right here.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I heard you’re going to be in town for quite some time,” she said. “You know what that means?”

  Oh God. Was this going to be yet another person encouraging a romance with Declan? They’d made huge progress on Monday, but by silent agreement, they were taking things slow.

  “I’m not sure. What does it mean?”

  “You’ll be here for Founder’s Day on October 22nd.”

  “I will be,” she said. “Is there still a parade?”

  Nellie’s face fell. “Not since your grandmother died. Your grandfather seemed to lose interest.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t get out much, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, we do a lot of dog-related events now,” she said. “But that Founder’s Day parade used to be quite the event.”

  “I remember,” Evie said on a laugh, holding up her hand to do a queen’s wave.

  “You always looked like you were having fun. And how is Gloriana House?” Nellie asked. “I haven’t been there for many years. The Historical Society wanted to do an event there once, but your grandfather…”

  “I’m sorry. Granddaddy’s getting up in years and hasn’t been as involved as he used to be. But the house hasn’t changed a bit, for better or worse.”

  “I’m glad it hasn’t changed,” Nellie said. “That room your grandmother created? It’s an absolute treasure. And full of them!”

  “The museum room? You’re more than welcome to come and visit anytime, Nellie. I know you like to do those display events at the library. Why don’t you borrow a few items for Founder’s Day?” Her eyes widened. “We found a locket that belonged to Amelia Bushrod with baby pictures of Evangeline and Gloriana.”

  Nellie gasped. “Oh, I’d love to see that! And I might take you up on that offer, Evie.” She thought for a moment, then got a little bit closer. “You know, I have a better idea.”

  “You do? I’m open.”

  “Well, wait until you hear it.” Nellie searched her face as if trying to decide what to say next. “I used to talk about this with your grandmother, but we never did it. But maybe it’s time.”

  Intrigued, Evie nodded encouragingly.

  “How would you feel about opening up Gloriana House for a ‘living museum’ over Founder’s Day weekend? Just the downstairs,” she said quickly. “We could rope off rooms so any visitors would be limited to the living area and the dining room and museum room. If your grandfather’s not up for it, he can stay clear of any people, but I think it would be so wonderful to show off some of that magnificent history you have in the house. Perfect for Founder’s Day, and we’ve been looking for ideas to kick this year’s up a notch.”

  Tipping her head, Evie considered that. “I kind of like that idea. There’s so much beauty in the house that no one ever sees.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. The whole history of Bitter Bark is woven into the fabric of that place.”

  The words reached down and twisted something in Evie’s very soul. “Aww, Nellie. That’s so true. I’d love to open up the house for people to appreciate it like you do.”

  “Really?” Nellie’s whole face lit up. “I could help you stage and prepare the rooms so you don’t have a ton of work.”

  “It really wouldn’t be that hard since some of the front rooms haven’t been redecorated in eons.”

  “How awesome is that?” she exclaimed. “And throughout the rooms, you could place items from the past, family pictures, that letter from Amelia.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “Your grandmother let me hold it once.”

  “How sweet you are.” Touched by the reverence in her voice and expression, Evie reached out to put a hand on her arm. “And I really think this is a fantastic idea.”

 
“I’ve always loved that house. I’m so terrified that someday an out-of-towner will nab the hilltop lot, tear down the house, and build some McMansion in its place.”

  Evie sucked in a soft breath. Was that what James Bell had in mind? No. He had too much respect for the property. She hoped. “I’d hate that,” she agreed.

  “You know what else we can do?” Nellie asked. “Maybe we could have a private catered event on Friday night. Then an open house the next day, for the official Founder’s Day celebration that Saturday? Oh, the entire Historical Society would simply explode with happiness.”

  Evie’s eyes widened, swept up with the idea and Nellie’s infectious enthusiasm. “Grandmama Penelope used to have costume parties when I was little. We have so many dresses and suits in storage.”

  “A costume party?” Nellie looked like she might burst with excitement.

  “Yes!” Evie gave a little clap as the whole thing started to take shape in her mind. Not only would it be a wonderful way to honor the house and its history, Granddaddy might enjoy something like that. “I’m happy to lend some of the clothes, as long as everything gets returned. I have gowns from Evangeline and Gloriana, and my grandmother’s, too.”

  “Evie, this is the best news! I’ll tell the society at our next meeting, and we’ll start putting together a guest list. It’ll be a night to remember! In fact, that should be our theme.”

  “I love that,” Evie exclaimed. “Then we better start planning, since there’s not much time.”

  They exchanged numbers and hugs and a few more ideas, long enough that Evie had to rush across the square to get to her appointment on time. But she was still on a Bitter Bark high when she made her way into a crowded vet office across the square.

  “Oh, Dr. Hewitt.” The receptionist beamed as soon as she walked in. “Dr. Bancroft is so excited to have you here today.”

  “You bet I am!” Molly called from an open doorway. “Grab a jacket, Evie. And don’t kill me. I have four more patients coming in to see you.”

  Kill her? A zing of excitement Evie hadn’t felt in a long time whipped through her as the woman behind the desk held out a turquoise lab coat.

  “Here. You’ll be covered in fur if you don’t wear one,” the young woman said.

  “Oh, a little pet hair never hurt anyone.” Evie took the jacket and slid it on like a comfortable pair of old shoes. “I’m coming, Molly.”

  She really couldn’t wipe the smile from her face now.

  She was needed in this town. She was wanted in this town. She was at home in this town. What exactly had kept her away all these years?

  Or maybe the question should be: Who had kept her away?

  * * *

  “I’m used to you working past your shift, Big D, but now you’re cleaning out the storage garage?” Connor came deeper into the fire station sweatbox, as they called the outdoor unit, where Declan was up to his elbows in cardboard boxes. “What are you doing in here?”

  Declan lifted a paper. “Just looking at some old files.”

  Connor took a folder from an open box and blinked when he realized what it was. “What the hell, Dec?”

  “I never read the investigation reports on the Gloriana House fire,” he said, looking up at his brother. “Have you?”

  “Skimmed,” he admitted with a shrug. “Doesn’t change anything.”

  Except it could change Declan. Maybe if he could finally understand exactly what happened that night, he could close and lock the door to that wretched emotional basement, never to be entered again. And that could mean…he and Evie might have a real chance.

  “Did you know that fire was out so fast only one volunteer crew got called?” Declan asked.

  “You know that sometimes the worst things happen at fires that don’t seem that bad.” Connor lifted his brows. “It’s one of the first things you learn in this business.”

  Declan swallowed. “You also learn not to lose sight of your partner. Especially when you’re in a hundred-year-old structure and under a wooden balcony.”

  “You think Dad caused his own death?” Connor’s voice grew tight. “Dad? The original believer in ‘we go in together, we come out together’?”

  “He also knew better than anyone that there is always an element of the unknown in a fire.” Declan’s gaze skimmed one of the debriefing reports. “And something wasn’t known in this fire. Why did he make that decision to go deeper and trap himself outside of that sunroom?”

  “You think he should have known better? That he made a mistake?” Indignation colored every one of Connor’s words.

  “I think…” Declan squinted at a page, then flipped it. “That there must have been a compelling reason to go under the overhang and try to get inside the sunroom.”

  “He probably spotted the seat of the fire.”

  “But he was there early, and the rags combusted outside,” Declan reasoned.

  “Then maybe he saw someone inside.”

  “Everyone in that house was already out, accounted for, and standing in the street.”

  Of course, Connor had no comeback to that.

  But there had to be some reason Dad broke protocol. His partner’s interviews had been no help, since he’d stated repeatedly that one minute he could see Joe Mahoney, and the next he couldn’t. And Lieutenant Rainey had moved to New York not long after Dad died and, sadly, was lost in 9/11, so they couldn’t ask him now.

  Connor put the file down and perched on a couple of boxes. “You think this’ll make you feel better, or help you forgive Evie?” No surprise, his shrewd brother would cut to the quick.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” Declan said. “But could I feel better? I don’t know. I do know that reading these is…long overdue.”

  “You took it hardest,” Connor said simply.

  Declan eyed his brother, remembering the brash teenager who’d emerged after Dad died. Work and maturity had toned him down, and Sadie Hartman had tamed the last of the beast in him, but still. “You didn’t take it all too well, either.”

  He acknowledged that with a shrug. “So, what else are you finding in there?”

  “One arson investigator didn’t sign off on that final decision. A guy named Kirby Lewis, a specialist the NCBI brought in. He said there was more than one burn pattern, and the inside one wasn’t consistent with the combustion of linseed oil in painting rags that started outside.”

  Connor nodded. “But read the whole report. The rags blew up in the heat. No one disputes that.”

  “It says here that Kirby Lewis found lighter fluid inside the house. I had no idea.” Of course, he’d ignored every word about the fire at the time.

  “But don’t they have a lighter collection in that house? It made sense there would be lighter fluid.”

  “Yeah, and a sunroom that was adjacent to the covered patio was where Max cleaned his lighters. Still, I wonder why one guy didn’t agree.”

  “Hang on.” Connor pulled out his phone and touched the screen. “Braden knows the details inside out.”

  “He does?” Declan drew back with surprise. “How the hell did I not know that?”

  “Because no one talks to you about this fire, Dec. You snarl like a ticked-off Rottweiler.” He talked into his phone. “Hey. Come back to the storage garage for a minute.” He waited a beat. “Eat later. Family business.”

  Not two minutes later, Braden walked in wearing his Bitter Bark FD T-shirt and department-issued khakis, carrying a half-eaten banana. “What’s so important that I can’t finish chow before a call comes in?”

  “The fire that killed Dad,” Declan said simply. “You’ve studied all these files?”

  “I actually did a paper on that fire during my canine arson training.”

  Good God, did the whole family protect him from anything that had to do with Dad? A new shame crawled up Declan’s chest.

  “This is why you wanted to train arson dogs?” he guessed.

  Braden’s blue eyes flickered with a silent con
firmation.

  “So you think it was arson. You think this Kirby Lewis guy has a legit point?” Declan asked.

  His youngest brother blew out a noisy puff of air, leaning on a stepstool. “First of all, you need to know who and what that guy was—a legend in arson investigation, but also cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, if you get my drift.”

  “Was?” Declan asked. “Is he dead?”

  “No. He’s retired and so far off the grid, I doubt you could find him. More than one arsonist who managed to get paroled would like to.”

  Declan winced. “So he’s really good? And he didn’t buy the linseed oil as the origin?” He looked from one brother to the other. “Doesn’t that bother you guys?”

  “Not me,” Connor said. “Read the Bureau report. The North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation is not cuckoo for anything. The cause was accidental. Or, as I like to say, human stupidity.” At Declan’s look, Connor shrugged. “Hey, just calling it as I see it. A lifelong painter should know better than to stick linseed oil rags in a container and put it outside on one of the hottest days of the year.”

  “Says here she snapped it closed.”

  “And then the wind knocked it over and opened it.” Connor pointed at something he’d read on one of the pages. “Couldn’t have been closed tightly enough.”

  Declan turned to Braden. “What else do you know about this Lewis guy, besides being nuts and good at his job?”

  “He finds arson where it may or may not be,” Braden said. “He also finds it where other investigators miss it.”

  “Which would be his job,” Declan said.

  “Yeah, and he cracked some big cases. But he also spent thousands of taxpayer dollars trying to prove some fires that were clearly accidental were really arson. He was a lone wolf, too. Not on anyone’s payroll, but brought in by individual departments, usually when there’s an LODD.”

  Because a line-of-duty death was the thing that made any department ultra-introspective and determined to find a culprit other than human error by one of their own. Especially one as respected as Captain Joseph Mahoney had been.