by Debra Webb
“Yes. But at this rate it will all go up in smoke tomorrow.”
Riley trailed after them, unwilling to leave her alone with a nut like Filmore. Riley might suggest she keep a few of the guys he’d been working with in town as extra security. He couldn’t be sure she’d accept the idea, but it could resolve part of her manpower issue. For two blocks, he considered ideas and solutions and what he had to share in his next report for Director Casey, and then they rounded the corner and all three of them stopped.
Memorial Park sat like a jewel in the heart of Belclare. The scent of fresh greenery laced the cold air and out here, the burning police station might as well be on a different planet. Logically, he knew it was the breeze from the water blowing the acrid smoke in the opposite direction, but the effect was stunning.
“Isn’t this lovely, Mr. Filmore? It looks just like those pictures from the 1940s.”
“It does,” he allowed, his voice tight. “The decorators did well here.”
Riley kept his mouth shut so he wouldn’t blow the progress Abby was making.
“I agree.” Abby’s voice was steady and calm in the brittle air. “Tourists will love this, they’ll flock here, taking pictures and making memories. Belclare will be fine.”
“But the burned-out station is an eyesore,” he moaned.
“You know what I didn’t see at the station?”
“What?”
“I didn’t see any flames on the front of the building.”
Riley realized she was right. The roof had been burning as well as the back, but the facade hadn’t been on fire. In fact the displays in front of the building were mostly intact.
“The police department may have to take up temporary residence at Sadie’s for a few days,” Abby offered, “but at first glance the tourists won’t know the difference.”
“You sound so sure,” Filmore mumbled.
“I am. The buildings you protect so well, the structures you speak for, were here long before either of us. Thanks to your dedication, they will be here long after we’re gone. Tonight’s setback notwithstanding.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry I lost my temper.”
Riley was sure he heard tears in Filmore’s voice.
“These have been trying times,” she added graciously, “but we’ll get through it. Together.”
Filmore stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk and Riley braced for trouble.
“Yes, it will take both of us to get this done,” Filmore agreed. He reached over and covered her gloved hand with his. “Belclare means so much to me, Chief Jensen. My apologies.”
Riley didn’t like the tone and his mind ran off in conspiratorial directions over Filmore’s phrasing.
But Abby just smiled at the older man. “Sometimes those things that mean the most drive us to do things we never dreamed ourselves capable of doing,” she said.
“There are times for extreme measures.”
“Yes.” She turned them back toward Main Street, back toward the mess and destruction of the fire.
Riley noticed how the Belclare police officers had managed to spread out at even intervals, on both sides of the street.
“Sometimes when we care so much about a cause, we’re willing to hurt the people and places we love,” she continued.
Filmore flinched and tried to pull free of Abby’s grip, but she held firm. “I don’t know what you mean,” he protested. “Release me.”
“Mr. Filmore, I can’t do that.” With her free hand, she motioned to one of the men across the street. “Martin Filmore, you are under arrest for arson.”
She started to read him his rights, but he interrupted. “Stop this at once. This is absurd.” He rubbed his gloved hands together. “I—I was in the police station when the fire started.”
“So I’ve been told,” she said, and then continued reading his rights.
“Chief Jensen, I love that old building. You know I could never do such a heinous thing.”
Riley noticed tears rolling down the older man’s cheeks as he was crying in earnest now. The denials were tumbling free. If Filmore was guilty, he did a fine job portraying an emotionally distraught innocent bystander. He would have to send this up the line to Director Casey immediately.
“I know you’d never want to.” Abby let him ramble as another officer stepped up to cuff him and help him gently into the back of a cruiser. With the police station on fire, where they would question him was anyone’s guess.
When Filmore was gone and the firefighters finished a final walk-through, Abby returned to the truck. “You stayed.”
He opened the passenger door for her. “Said I would.”
“I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” He closed her door and walked around the hood, slid in behind the steering wheel. Throughout the ordeal, she hadn’t shown any of the weariness she clearly felt now. “Why did you arrest him?”
“The officers on duty said he was squirrely and he kept eyeing my office where they believe the fire started.”
Riley’s jaw clenched. Everyone in town knew she frequently worked late. Did she realize Filmore might’ve killed her? And if she hadn’t been in the office, starting the fire there would reflect badly on her, further damaging her reputation.
“On top of those circumstantial points,” she continued, “he’d been at the station this morning for a meeting about the graffiti. He had access to the office and he doesn’t usually bother me twice in one week, much less in a day.”
Riley thought about the detonators. “Did you see him plant anything in your office?”
“No, but I was effectively distracted by a few other issues.”
“Filmore strikes me as a high-maintenance kind of guy.”
“If he did set the fire, and that seems likely, that makes him the kind of guy who’s managed to deceive me for years.” He heard the sorrow in her voice, knew she was wondering who else was fooling her. “While I’m happy to remove a problem, it’s hard to wrap my head around the idea that Filmore was arranging drug deals and hurling those other threats at me.”
“I can’t see him toppling Calder’s ladder,” Riley said.
“Agreed.”
“What’s next?” She looked so tired he wished he could take her home.
“First a warrant for Filmore’s house,” she explained, her voice weary. “Then, as soon as we have any real evidence, I’ll have to write up something for the feds.”
“Do you want me to take you to Filmore’s?”
“No. They don’t need me hovering. My officers are good at what they do.” She sighed and leaned her head back against the seat. “Right now I just want to get home and sink into a tub full of bubbles.”
Well, there was an image that would be haunting him all night. Developments and reports could only offer so much distraction from the thought of Abby’s naked body covered only by fragile bubbles. Right next door. At least, she was calling it a night. A good night’s sleep would go a long way. Not that he’d be getting any shut-eye.
There were other questions he could ask, but he kept them to himself. He didn’t want to pile on any more than he already had, even in the role of curious neighbor. He would leave the nosing around to Mrs. Wilks. For tonight anyway.
Arresting Filmore, admitting Homeland Security might be right about a homegrown terrorist cell operating in Belclare wouldn’t be easy developments for Abby to accept. This was her town, after all. No one wanted to believe they didn’t recognize evil when they saw it.
But Riley knew for certain that evil was sometimes the last suspect on the list.
Chapter Nine
The comfortable silence on the drive home soothed Abby, offering a blissful relief after the noise of the firefighters, the concerns of her officers and the erratic ramblings of Filmore. She hoped the search warrant turned up something conclusive and useful. As much as she hated the idea that Martin Filmore had fooled her all these years, it would be news to celebrate and reassure her town, as well as the tourists they
hoped would come out for the weekend.
As a police officer, and now as a chief, nothing felt worse than knowing the community questioned their general safety. Sure, life involved some measure of risk, but when people doubted the ability of their law enforcement, things had a tendency to spiral out of control.
“Want to talk about it?”
She looked across the seat to her new neighbor who’d made himself her chauffeur for the evening. “I’d rather not.”
“If that changes, you know where to find me.”
Did she ever. Last night had been bad enough with images of him following her into sleep and all through her dreams. Had she ever been so infatuated? Not as an adult.
Waking with Riley O’Brien on her mind had been a delicious start to the day. She could tell from the way her pulse skipped and danced when she saw him that the situation wasn’t likely to resolve anytime soon. Not without some sort of acknowledgment or action. But this was the worst time to entertain the idea of a new relationship or even friends with benefits.
When he pulled into the driveway, Abby tried to summon the strength to get out of the car. She wanted a shower first to get the smoke out of her hair, then a long soak in a bubble bath. She might leave her coat on the rail outside the kitchen door so it could air out. Mr. Filmore had attacked her police station. Specifically her office. She didn’t need spray paint and graffiti to understand the significance and potential deadly consequences.
At least he’d failed on that count, she thought as another wave of relief washed over her. No one had been injured. That was one positive point in this mess.
But something had pushed Filmore to act against what he held most dear and set fire to a piece of history. Hopefully, the interrogation and search would provide a solid direction. Her gut said Filmore was simply a cog in a wheel, but if that was true, who was calling the shots? Who had the leverage to push Filmore over the edge?
It seemed impossible that she was considering people she had known for years.
What she needed was a better lead, but neither the evidence nor her instincts were cooperating at the moment.
“Hey.” Riley snagged her attention with a soft tap on her shoulder. “Are you the fake or real type?”
With all that had happened, somehow the question grated on her last nerve. She glared at him. “What kind of question is that?”
He leaned back, lifting his hand from her shoulder. “Ease up, Abby. I was referring to Christmas trees.”
“Oh!” She wanted to laugh and shake free of the constant edginess plaguing her, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “I have a fake one in the attic that I’ll pull down when I get a chance. The idea of wandering through a Christmas tree lot...” Her voice trailed off.
“You’ve received threats about shopping for Christmas trees?”
She reached for the door handle, immediately regretting the careless words. Overtired, she wouldn’t be any good to anyone. Based on the muttering, Riley was offended by the idea of that kind of threat. “Not exactly.” She shouldn’t tell him anything and yet she suddenly wanted to talk about all of it. She wanted to unburden herself, even if he was basically a stranger.
Maybe because he was a stranger. He wouldn’t have any preconceived notions about what should and shouldn’t bother her.
There had been ridiculous, silly threats that were obviously from lunatics piling on to her sudden notoriety. And there had been the more direct threats from people who either knew firsthand or had researched Belclare’s annual traditions. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No? I think I’d disagree if you told me the truth.”
She forced her lips into a reassuring smile. “It was a silly one,” she managed. Why could she be so strong for the people in her department and hold her ground with the likes of Mayor Scott and Mr. Filmore but not with Riley?
With Riley she was too ready to confess her weaknesses and worries. Though she wouldn’t change a thing about her decisions, she had the irrational urge to discuss those decisions with him. He triggered some tiny, long-forgotten part of her that trusted people. The part of her she’d shut down in favor of navigating the boys’ club that was law enforcement. Taking over as chief in Belclare had been a step up the career ladder, but the welcoming people here had given her a significant measure of relief, as well. Her officers and support staff served Belclare with pride, accepting her easily enough. That didn’t mean she burdened them with the thoughts or concerns that fell on her shoulders.
Until the drug bust, she hadn’t needed to. Her role as police chief came with a burden of responsibility that she carried willingly and easily. Previously, the most serious crime in Belclare had been the occasional petty theft or bar fight. She wouldn’t allow that reputation for safety to change. Not on her watch and especially not during the tourist season that buoyed the town from year to year.
Riley had been kind and supportive, but she would do well to remember she didn’t really know him.
“You’re thinking too deeply again.”
She blinked. He was in front of her—he had, in fact, left the driver’s seat and come around to open her door while her mind had been skipping around. She glanced at the empty driver’s seat and back to where he stood now.
“Come on.” He held out a hand to help her. “I’ll walk you in.”
Did he think she’d get lost between the drive and the door? Was he worried she’d turn into his kitchen rather than her own? Now, that was a tempting thought. She put her hand in his, knowing before they touched that his skin would be warm, his palm rough from work. “I was going to tell you.” She just hadn’t decided if she’d tell him her professional troubles or her intimate, personal desires.
“So tell me.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, encouraging her to move, but she stayed in the seat.
The view was striking, the moment weighted with significance as her heart pounded in her chest. Surely he could hear it, too. She reached out, wiping away the smudge of soot near his hairline. Filled with need and raw awareness, she wanted to simultaneously rush forward and stop time as she leaned close and pressed her lips to his.
He didn’t respond. His hand, fingers warm around hers, didn’t even twitch.
Stupid. Idiot. The internal reprimand continued as she pulled back, searching for the right words. There had to be some lighthearted phrase that could explain away her unwelcome blunder into his personal space. She might have to move. Out of the neighborhood. She’d go find a hotel if he’d just let her go.
Hysterical laughter bubbled in her chest, but she smothered it. This kiss might just succeed where all of the criminal threats and fallout from the drug bust had failed. The impetuous kiss might drive her right out of Belclare. “Excuse me.” She didn’t know where to go. He remained rooted in place, blocking the logical way out of the truck.
She tried to decide if she could slide across the bench seat and out the driver’s door and still maintain her dignity. Of course her dignity had taken flight during that brief one-sided kiss. She’d misinterpreted his kindness as a reflection of her attraction. How...totally stupid. She was too weary to come up with a better word. Good grief, she was a fool. How had her intuition failed her so badly?
Why didn’t he say anything? She frowned at their joined hands. Why wouldn’t he let go of her?
“Excuse me,” she repeated, shocked that it was even possible for her to feel increasingly humiliated with every passing second. She shifted, trying to scoot away from that strange, bewildered expression on his face. Trying to escape the mortifying moment.
“Wait.” The single word he uttered sounded strained.
She froze, too embarrassed to look at him.
“Abby.”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“You surprised me.”
“Okay. Sorry.” She winced as the apology tumbled from her lips. This wasn’t like her. None of this was like her. “Thanks for your help. Have a nice—”
She gasped as he tugged her back to t
he edge of the seat. He pulled her knees to either side of his trim hips and linked his hands at the small of her back. His breath fanned softly against her skin, mingling with her own as he leaned close enough that his lips were on hers. Light at first, then a claiming that sent her pulse into overdrive.
Her hands fisted in the front of his vest and she hung on for dear life. The kiss spun out, sweeping her away as his tongue stroked into her mouth. She tasted the smoky air, the lingering pepper of the fries and the unique flavor of him. She wrapped her legs around him, her heart racing. Relief and desire were a heady mix as the embarrassment of moments ago was blasted away by this passionate flare.
“You surprised me,” he repeated, this time against her cheek.
“Remind me to do it more often,” she said, nipping gentzly at his jaw. “You have an interesting response.”
He chuckled, pulling her close enough to feel his arousal. His brown eyes glinted in the weak light cast by the lamp in the cab.
“Oh.” She dropped her head to his shoulder. “Anyone might see us out here.” Obviously she’d lost all of her powers of common sense when it came to Riley O’Brien.
“So come inside with me.” His wide palms cruised up and down her back, his fingers sliding under the clasp of her bra. “I have cookies.”
“I can’t do that,” she replied, though she’d be hard-pressed to come up with a logical excuse right this second.
“Then your place. We’ll skip the cookies.”
She laughed. “No. Not there, either.”
He kissed her again and she nearly relented. “All right.” He reached up and flicked the switch, plunging the truck into darkness. “It’s a challenge, but I can make it work here.”
She should’ve found that offensive, but all she could do was laugh. She couldn’t remember anyone in her past who made her laugh, who made her feel as lighthearted as Riley did. “You really don’t waste time.”
His mouth was warm and tender as he trailed kisses across her cheek to her ear. “You knew that,” he murmured.
She let the words shiver through her, let her head fall back, granting him full access to her throat. A warm feeling bloomed in her chest, something more than the passion he stoked with his sensual touches. Yes, she did know that about him. At the moment, she appreciated it.
