So This Is Love

by Barbara Freethy

For a split second, she thought about saying she was staying with a girlfriend, but she was twenty-nine years old, and she didn't need to be lying to her father. "I'm staying with Max Harrison. I didn't want to bring the target on my back to the house. It would kill me if anything happened to our home, to Mom or Shayla, Colton, Aiden… I couldn't live with myself."

  Her father nodded. "And Max Harrison—he can protect you?"

  "I can protect myself," she retorted. "But yes, he's also quite capable. He is a cop after all."

  "I know you're tough and independent, Emma. I just don't want you to underestimate your opponent, because that's what this guy has become. Fire is a game to him, and you're the one he has to beat."

  "I understand that, and I appreciate the concern." As they walked to the door, she decided to change the subject. "How are things going with Grandma? Is Grandpa still trying to put her in a home in Monterey?"

  Jack paused in the doorway, a tense line to his lips. "Your grandfather is being incredibly stubborn and short-sighted. I'm still hoping to change his mind."

  She hated the idea of both her grandparents being so far away when her grandmother might not be able to enjoy her family for too much longer. "It's too soon," she said. "Grandma still has good days. She's going to miss us. She'll be lonely away from everyone."

  "I've told him exactly that."

  She stared at her dad, feeling a little uneasy about broaching the subject of secrets, but she felt compelled to say something. "Was there some tragedy in the past that I don't know about?" she asked.

  He raised an eyebrow at her question. "What do you mean?"

  "Grandma mentioned a bad, bad day. And then Grandpa quickly cut her off. It's not the first time she's alluded to some family secret. Do you know what she's talking about?"

  "No idea. She could be remembering anything or nothing. Don't worry about it, Emma."

  With everyone on the same page but her, she was beginning to think she was putting too much importance on her grandmother's words, but she'd always relied on her instincts, and her gut told her there was something to her grandmother's story. "Well, I hope you can convince Grandpa not to make any big moves yet."

  "He's a stubborn man."

  "Like all the Callaways."

  "You got that right. Take care, Emma. I know you're not a teenager any more, but you can still call me any time, day or night, and I will come and get you."

  "Thank you," she said.

  "Call your mother later and check in with her. She's worrying," Jack added, as he headed out the door.

  "I will." After her dad left, she returned to her office. She looked through her emails and tapped her fingers on the desk in restlessness and frustration. She felt like she was on the verge of discovery, but she couldn't quite get all the way there. She'd already spoken to Jarod and to Christian. Maybe it was time to speak to Tony on a more serious note.

  She picked up her phone. Tony answered a moment later.

  "It's Emma," she said. "Are you busy?"

  "I'm working right now, but I'll be done around four o'clock. What's up?"

  "I just need to talk to you for a few minutes."

  "Is this about the fire at St. Andrew's?"

  "Yes. Where can I meet you?"

  "Why don't you come to my house at four-thirty? I'm going out to dinner later, but I can give you a half hour."

  "Great. See you at four-thirty."

  As she ended the call, an odd feeling of fear ran through her. She should have told Tony she'd meet him at a restaurant or some other neutral location, any place besides his house. But that was silly, she told herself. She'd known Tony since she was five years old. He wasn't going to hurt her. They were friends. And she didn't honestly believe he was the arsonist. Although, he was a painter, and that spray-painted message could have been another clue. Tony could have been trying to tell her he was right in front of her; she just didn't see him.

  Her brows knit together as she frowned. It was both a good and a bad thing to have a big imagination. It opened her mind to the possibilities but sometimes her imagination blurred reality. Tony had no motive to set fires or try to take her down. Although, he had been asking to take her to dinner, and she had been putting him off.

  Shaking her head, she got up from her desk and walked down to the lab to speak to the forensic specialists. Maybe if she looked at the science again, she could get back to the facts.

  * * *

  Max stopped by St. Andrew's school after lunch. He showed the rosary to Ruth Harbough, who confirmed that the rosary did not belong to Margaret.

  "I don't understand why she would have had this in her pocket," Ruth said. "And where is her rosary, the one she always carried?"

  "Probably with the rest of her missing items," he said. "Can you give me a list of students from the graduation class that would have received this rosary?"

  "Yes, it will take me a few minutes."

  "I'll wait." While she got on the computer, he said, "Did Sister Margaret ever work with any students outside of school hours?"

  "She tutored many children," Ruth answered. Looking up, she added, "Do you think a former student kidnapped her?"

  "I'm just wondering why she'd have a rosary from that particular year."

  "I don't know."

  The printer began to hum, and a moment later, Ruth handed him the class list. He ran down the names. Besides Aiden, Jarod and Tony Moretti and Christian Brady, none of the other names meant anything to him. Aiden wasn't a suspect. And he'd already eliminated Jarod in his mind, so that left two. Or there could be someone on this list that Emma would recognize as a suspect. She was the expert on former students.

  He looked at Ruth Harbough. "You know every kid in this school, don't you?"

  "Yes," she said without hesitation.

  "What can you tell me about Christian Brady?"

  "He wasn't a good student; he struggled with academics. As for behavioral issues, Christian didn't have many. He was a good kid. He looked out for others, not just his younger brother, Robert, but also the kids in the class who tended to get picked on. Christian was well liked and respected for standing up to the bullies. Sometimes those moments landed him in a fight, which is when he ended up in detention. But I remember Margaret telling me that she always had a soft spot for Christian, because she never thought he threw the first punch."

  Max filed that away in his brain. "What about Tony Moretti?"

  "Tony was a mischievous troublemaker. He didn't like rules, and he was caught in lies many times. That boy spent more time in detention and confession than anyone. But it seems like he has turned his life around. I spoke to him the other day, and he has a job, and appears to have more goals than he used to have. He seemed quite excited about the future."

  Max wondered if that excitement had come from the adrenaline rush of starting fires all over town.

  "What about Jarod?"

  "Aside from that one incident with the fire in the dumpster, I don't recall Jarod being in trouble. He was much quieter than Tony and a better student. I always felt a little sad for them. Their mother died when they were in the sixth grade, and their last two years here were rough. Their stepfather tried to be involved, but he was a busy man, and he never seemed to show up for their events."

  "Stepfather?" he queried, the word sticking in his head. "I didn't realize they had a stepfather. Where was their real father?"

  "He died when they were babies. It was so tragic that they lost both of their parents."

  His gut tightened. "Was the stepfather's name Moretti?"

  "No. His name was Palermo—Kent Palermo."

  "Can you tell me anything about him?"

  "No, I'm sorry. I haven't seen him in years." She paused. "Shall I assume from all these questions that you're no closer to finding Margaret's kidnapper?"

  Her question had a bit of an edge to it. "We're doing everything we can. I'm not going to stop until we bring her kidnapper to justice."

  "Thank you," she said, her eyes bl
urring with tears. "Margaret was a dear friend. And I have trouble sleeping thinking about her last days and how scared she must have been. Although, knowing Margaret, I bet she gave her kidnapper a hard time. She was not a woman to sit back and say nothing or do nothing. Unfortunately, sometimes her honesty got her into trouble."

  "Thanks for your time."

  When Max got back to the office, he ran the name Kent Palermo through the computer. He didn't know why he couldn't get past the Morettis, but he wasn't going to question his gut. At the moment, instinct was all he had.

  A few minutes later, his instinct was rewarded. Kent Palermo owned two houses, one in San Francisco and another in Lake Tahoe. His heart began to pound. He needed to get in touch with Palermo and find out if he'd been in Lake Tahoe over the last two weeks or if he'd lent his cabin out to anyone—maybe one of his sons, or one of their friends.

  * * *

  "Tony," Emma said, as she stepped into the house Tony had lived in as a child. "This place looks a little different. You've redecorated."

  "One of my father's ex-girlfriends did it about three years ago. She didn't want to spend time in a man's house," he added with a smile. "At first I thought the fake plants were a little much, but they've grown on me." He paused. "I was going to take a shower before you got here. Excuse the clothes."

  "Are you still painting at St. Andrew's?" she asked.

  "Just finished up today. The classroom should be ready for the kids by next week."

  "That's good."

  "Do you want something to drink? I was just going to grab a beer. Do you want one?"

  "I'm on the job, but I'll take a water."

  "How's the investigation going?" he asked, as they moved down the hall.

  "It's a little frustrating at the moment," she admitted.

  He handed her a bottle of water and took out a beer for himself. "I heard you talked to Jarod yesterday. He said you asked him a lot of questions about the dumpster fire from years ago. Why are you stuck on that?"

  "Because it goes to a pattern of behavior."

  He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

  "Arsonists can get their start young. You told me that Christian set that fire, but I know now that Jarod was suspended for it. You had to know that, so why the lie?"

  He shook his head. "I didn't lie. Christian did set the fire, but Jarod took the blame."

  "That's not what you said the other day."

  "I forgot that Jarod had been punished for the fire."

  "A five day suspension is a pretty big penalty to take for someone else," she said, wondering if Tony was really telling her the truth.

  He took a swig of his beer, then said, "Jarod owed Christian. Christian had stopped Peter Holt from beating up Jarod. So Jarod paid him back. But it was definitely Christian who set the fire. He loved fire. He was obsessed with becoming a firefighter. You must remember that. How many times did you see Christian hanging on to your dad's every word? I remember when Jack let him get behind the wheel of a fire engine. Christian was over the moon."

  She did remember that. Christian had always admired her dad. He'd looked to Jack as his mentor. Would he want to let his mentor down by becoming an arsonist? "How frequently do you see Christian these days?" she asked.

  Tony shrugged. "Not that often. I've seen him a few times since he split with his wife and moved back to his dad's house. To be honest, he's kind of a downer these days. He's always complaining about his life, and I just get bored with it. I told him a few weeks ago that he should take a vacation, change his scenery and maybe his perspective. I said he could probably use my dad's Tahoe place if he wanted."

  Tahoe?

  The word made her stomach clench. "Your dad has a place in Tahoe?"

  "Yeah, he bought it a few years ago. He doesn't spend much time there now that he has a new woman in his life. If you ever want to use it, just let me know."

  "Thanks," she said, her mind whirling with the implications. Max had checked the Tahoe computer base for any homes owned by the Morettis or the Bradys. But Tony's father's name wasn't Moretti. It was Palermo. Damn! She'd forgotten that very important fact.

  "Something wrong?" Tony asked, his gaze narrowing. "You look like you got a million thoughts running through your head."

  "Do you know if Christian took you up on your suggestion to go to Tahoe?"

  "I don't know. I told him my dad wouldn't be using it for a few weeks, and Jarod has an extra set of keys." A gleam came into his eyes. "You really think Christian did it, don't you?"

  "It's beginning to look that way," she admitted.

  "What does Tahoe have to do with it?"

  "I can't say. But thanks for the info." She set down her water. "I have to go."

  "Hey, don't forget you owe me dinner."

  "When I tie up this case, you're on," she said.

  As soon as she got into her car, her phone rang. It was Scott McAvoy.

  "I've got the list of applicants, Emma. I'm emailing them to you now. I recognize a lot of the names, no one I would peg as a potential arsonist. They're all good men."

  "No women?"

  "You were the only one who applied."

  "What about Christian Brady? Is he on the list?"

  "Yes," Scott said. "He's on the list."

  "Thanks, I'll be in touch." Her heart began to pound. She called Max. It went to voicemail. Frustrated, she left him a message. "I've got a new lead. It's five o'clock, so I'm heading to your apartment. I'll meet you there."

  On the drive across town, she considered her next move. They needed to find out exactly what Christian had been doing the last two weeks. She didn't want to believe that a fellow firefighter was setting fires all over the city and taunting her, but then again Christian had never tried to hide his disdain for her. Had his hate grown even stronger when she'd gotten the fire investigator job, and he hadn't?

  She wished she'd made that connection earlier, but until the fire at her apartment she really hadn't believed that she was the target.

  It was disturbing to think that so much destruction had been caused by someone out to get revenge against her. And what about poor Sister Margaret? Had she stumbled upon Christian while he was setting the fire at St. Andrew's? Had he taken her hostage so she couldn't report him?

  Despite the animosity Christian had directed toward Emma, she had trouble seeing him as a kidnapper and an arsonist. She'd worked fires with him. He'd saved lives. How did he go from hero to criminal?

  She was no closer to an answer when she pulled up in front of Max's apartment building. She walked up the stairs and took out the spare key he'd given her that morning.

  As she turned the knob and stepped into the living room, she was stunned to smell smoke, and it was coming from the bedroom. She wondered why the smoke detector wasn't going off. She glanced at the ceiling and saw it had been ripped out of the ceiling.

  A part of her wanted to investigate, but another part of her said, don't be stupid. She should get out and call for help.

  As she turned toward the door, she felt movement behind her. And then a strong arm came around her neck, and she yanked up against a hard male body and clothes that smelled like gasoline. Panic raced through her.

  "You're early," he said. "But that's okay. This time you'll get to see the fire start."

  She tried to break his hold. She needed to see who was talking. It kind of sounded like Christian, but not completely.

  "This is going to be the last fire you ever see. I couldn't have planned it better—Emma Lou."

  Her gut tightened. She knew that voice now. She knew that phrase. Only one person still called her Emma Lou, and it wasn't Christian.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "Robert?" Emma questioned as she struggled to get free. She couldn't believe it was Christian's younger brother who had an iron arm around her neck. "What are you doing?"

  "Teaching you a lesson. Showing you that you're not as good as you think you are."

  She coughed, her eyes watering from t
he smoke. "Let me go." She tried to kick at him, but he was stronger than she remembered.

  "You're not going anywhere. This is the end, Emma."

  "The end of what? Are you crazy? Why are you setting fires?"

  "You've always ruined everything—from the time we were little kids. You were always in the way, always taking my spot or Christian's spot."

  "What are you talking about? We were friends."

  "You never had any idea of the damage you left in your wake. The Emma hurricane would blow through, leaving pain and destruction."

  "We have to get out of here, Robert."

  "No, it's over," he said, finality in his voice. "I knew it was over as soon as that bitch nun died."

  "Why did you kidnap Sister Margaret?"

  "She caught me getting ready to set the fire at St. Andrew's. I had no choice but to take her out of there. I had to go back the next day and finish what I'd started."

  "Where did you take her?"

  "To Jarod's dad's place in Tahoe. I had to listen to her talk for five days. She thought she could make me change my mind. She wanted me to pray about it. She wanted me to ask for forgiveness. She drove me mad. She just wouldn't quit talking. And then she wanted her rosary. She wanted to do penance before she died."

  "Why didn't she have her rosary?"

  "She lost it when we were hiking through the woods."

  "But she didn't have her rosary when she was found; she had Christian's. Was he involved, too?"

  "Are you kidding? Christian didn't know anything about it. The bitch wouldn't shut up. She drove me crazy with her begging, so I drove to the house and I got Christian's rosary to take back to her. She prayed on it until she died." His voice changed from harsh to pleading. "I didn't know she was going to die, Emma. I was going to let her go. I was going to disappear, and that would be it. No one would ever find me. But she just passed out and died with her eyes open. It gave me the creeps."

  "I know you didn't want to kill her," Emma said. "And you don't want to hurt me, either. We have to get out of here, or we're going to die, too."

  "I'm ready to die. There's no way out for me, and it's only fitting I should take you with me. It's actually a better plan than the one I had."