As soon as Alexis opened the door to the lobby, he sat up and rolled his shoulders. He’d waited out on the highway until she’d gone into the office to come into the lot and park. He’d watched her move her car to the cabin. For a minute, he’d been afraid she was settled in for the night, but he knew she hadn’t eaten. He’d been following her ever since her plane had landed.
Surprised by the quantity of junk food she’d picked up at that corner store, he’d reasoned it was meant to last the time she was here. She’d put the box in the trunk, keeping only one small bag of chips, which along with that can of pop would be long gone by now. His stomach grumbled. Did he dare waltz into the restaurant and get something to eat? No. He’d already taken a chance going in and leaving that note. He would get something when he went back to North Bay for his truck and returned this piece of crap he’d “borrowed” to the lot. How far would the owner get before he realized his tank was almost empty? Right now, he had things to do before she came back.
Seeing Alexis at the airport had come as a shock. She’d been on the scrawny side twenty years ago—cute, but little, and easy to pick on, like he’d been. He’d tried to be her friend, but she’d snubbed him, looked right through him as if he hadn’t even existed, and then Jake had come to her rescue, and she’d fixed her gaze on him and him alone.
It was a shame that she’d done that. He hadn’t liked it, and in his anger, he’d joined those who’d tormented her, leaving her gifts, reminders that she was and always would be nothing but prey. He’d had so many wonderful things planned for them, but then she’d left because of her uncle. Well, soon Nick Pruett would get his, too.
He frowned. This woman was tall and slim but well-muscled. Considering her line of work, she might not scare as easily, but he’d gotten more sophisticated with his pranks, too. He’d focused the binoculars on her face, recognizing her from her picture online where he’d read about the Fire Psychic. Well, he was ready to see who would win this battle. Angel versus psychic. Bring it on!
She was one hell of a sweet package. His groin had tightened at the sight of her sculpted backside walking away from him in those tight jeans. It had been a hell of a long time since a woman’s face and body could get him to respond like that. She was stunning—beauty and brains all wrapped up in a soft package. He hadn’t expected that. He probably wouldn’t even have recognized her if it hadn’t been for Lynette.
He’d been throwing a few practice balls when she’d come into the bowling alley last week chomping at the bit to spread her incredible news. Alexis Pruett was coming back to Paradise to work with the police department to catch the arsonist. Everybody had been so full of questions, he hadn’t had to ask any. She’d gone on and on. He couldn’t care squat if Alexis resembled her mother or the main character in Alien, but when Lynette had used the name Fire Psychic, he’d perked right up. For the first time in his life, he was grateful that Lynette Wilson couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut. Once he knew where and when she would arrive, he ignored his sore back and shoulders and focused on the task at hand, bowling one of his top games yet. Nothing like incentive to get a man to do his best.
After reading the article, he’d considered it might be wise to take her out on the highway. She certainly seemed to have the skills and ability to do what no one else could, but he’d changed his mind. Wouldn’t it be sweet to see her and Jake reunited? Would she care he was only three quarters of a man? But more importantly, how could he resist the chance to taunt, tease, and terrify her again? He hummed a few bars from “The Hearse Song,” the nursery rhyme he’d used to horrify her that last day—too bad it had been the last. But now, things were looking up again.
Knowing she was arriving today, he’d given a plausible excuse for missing the bowling game and had gone to North Bay yesterday, scoring a car he could use to follow her. He’d waited near the airport, watching the car rental place. It had been a frigging miracle her plane had landed, given the weather, but he’d watched and when he spotted her get into that little sedan, all he had to do was wait. Once she was a decent distance ahead, he’d shadowed her by following along the old logging road that ran parallel to the Trans-Canada. He’d kept pace with her. That encounter with the moose had been a close one. She’d braked before he’d even seen the animal, and he had been wearing night vision goggles.
She talked to herself. He’d noticed it when she’d come out of the office earlier. It looked as if they finally had something in common—fire and the ability to know the best conversationalist in the world was yourself. All those years ago, when he’d wanted her to notice him, she hadn’t and now, when he’d like her to mind her own business and move on, it looked like she might finally see him. Karma could be a bitch at times.
He chuckled. She hadn’t been thrilled with her cabin’s location. Any idiot could read that face. That fool had given her the most isolated of the cabins—not so good for her, but it suited his purposes. As much as he would like to keep her around and renew their old friendship, he needed to keep her off balance. The one thing he couldn’t let her do was her job. He’d make sure her Uncle Nick knew she was here, too. That should upset her apple cart. He would give her a warning today, and mess with her mind a little, but if she wasn’t willing to leave here willingly and got in his way, she would have to go. He could always include her in the epilogue—maybe have a little fun first.
It had been a while since he’d had a woman. That hooker in Sturgeon Falls shouldn’t have laughed at him. She’d bled like a stuck pig. Tossing her in the garbage dump for the cougars and wolves had been a fitting end for her. He’d had to burn his clothes to get rid of the blood. Ed Keller’s barrel should’ve worked fine, but the damn thing had a hole in it. How the hell was that his fault? Too bad about the horses though. He liked horses.
As soon as Alexis went inside the lobby, he opened the car door, grabbed the bag off the seat beside him, and headed to her cabin. He pulled the master key out of his pocket. This was going to be fun.
* * *
Alexis pulled open the foyer door and crossed the lobby to the restaurant, disappointed that the hunky clerk was no longer working the desk. On the walk over, she’d fantasized about flirting with him, maybe making a date to have coffee together when his shift was over.
The interior of the restaurant was designed in such a way that its uncovered sliding doors and windows overlooked the wraparound veranda. A gas fireplace in the far corner provided much appreciated heat. Tables of various shapes and sizes, covered by black and white printed cloths, dotted the room.
“Hi! Table for one?”
“Yes, please. I just checked in. I didn’t think you’d be so busy.”
“We usually do well on Sunday nights, but tonight’s exceptional. Ever since Mrs. M took over the kitchen, our clientele has boomed. I’m Cyndi. I’ll be your server. It’s funny how bad weather brings in more customers.”
Alexis looked around the room. Paradise, population 25,000 in summer when the cottagers were in residence, just over 15,000 otherwise, wouldn’t have too many inns and restaurants open this time of the year, although, since it was hunting season, there would be people here hoping to get a moose. That was probably why the place was so busy. Hunters from all over paid thousands of dollars for the privilege of doing so, and she’d almost bagged one of her own—or would it have been Moose one, Alexis zero?
The inn was located about thirty minutes west of town, and from what she could see tonight, had to be a popular dining destination.
The girl handed her a menu. “I’m afraid were out of prime rib, but we have some steaks going for the same price. What can I get you to drink?”
“A glass of white wine would be nice,” she answered.
“Sauterne, Chardonnay, or Chablis?”
“Chablis, please.” The waitress left to fill the order.
Alexis perused the menu and opted for pasta primavera, Caesar salad, and garlic bread. She continued to study her fellow diners as she sipped her wine, enjoying
the crisp palate.
Most of the people were in couples or families. There weren’t as many single men, potential hunters, as she’d expected, although she couldn’t miss the four sitting together at a table set for six overlooking the gorge, probably one of the best tables in the house during the summer. They had turned as one and given her the look when she had entered the room. She ignored them. It wasn’t that she was a snob, she just preferred to stay on her own on the job. Discovering that any kind of response could bring unwanted attention was a lesson she’d learned the hard way. The fact that she would have to deal with a partner was complication enough without adding some local Romeo to the situation.
There was a solitary diner finishing his meal and reading his electronic notebook, oblivious to his surroundings. He certainly didn’t look like a hunter, although when she thought of it, a hunter would hardly come into the restaurant in camo, toting his rifle.
A young family with two toddlers sat near the window. The parents looked frazzled, but the little darlings were raring to go. The darkened surface reflected the interior of the restaurant, and Alexis was grateful that the Lotharios and the windows weren’t in her direct field of vision. Tonight, given the kind of day it had been, her fertile imagination might conjure up all kinds of nastiness in the blackness outside. She shuddered. She could’ve sworn something had been watching her earlier.
“Probably somebody’s cat,” she muttered, smiling when the desk clerk entered the restaurant and acknowledged her before walking over to join the solitary diner. On anyone else, the plaid shirt and dark jeans might look unkempt, but he wore them as if he were posing for the cover of GQ.
I should have asked him to join me. Yeah, right! Who am I kidding? A great looking guy like that is probably married anyway—like Bob, the creep.
She dismissed Bob from her mind and sipped her wine. Here she was, almost thirty-five-years old, with a loudly ticking biological clock. The problem was that, while she wanted the kidlets, the male counterpoint was an option she didn’t want. Lots of women were single mothers these days. If she got that promotion when this case was over, she would travel less. All she needed was the sperm, not the whole package. Given her last romantic debacle, and that had been two years ago, she wasn’t marrying material. Most of the men she met felt threatened by her independent streak, her dedication to her job, and the trust issues she had, a holdover from her younger days—and then there was her gift and of course, the scars. Not all of them showed.
She watched the solitary diner and the desk clerk get up. The diner left the room while the desk clerk ambled over to the bar to chat up the bartender. Now, for him, she might be willing to change her mind. He would make beautiful babies. She let her thoughts ramble along those impossible lines as she began her meal.
She’d just finished her salad when an elderly man approached her.
“Excuse me,” he said, sitting across from her, putting an end to her pleasant musings.
“I didn’t want to disturb your dinner, but my wife and I are almost ready to go, and I wanted to speak to you before we did.” He pointed to the woman at a table across the room from hers. The woman waved. “It’s been so long, but I know I’m right. You’re Alexis Pruett, aren’t you? You look just like your mother.”
Alexis blanched.
“Michaels, it’s Michaels now,” she said, somewhat disconcerted that she’d been recognized so soon. She’d forgotten about the possibility of a family resemblance. She’d been ten when her parents had died.
“I’m sorry. You have me at a disadvantage,” she stated primly.
“I’m Allan Sinclair. I’m not surprised. It’s been at least twenty years. Mildred and I belonged to the same bridge club as they did. We partnered quite often. It was a terrible loss. Are you here for a visit or have you come back to stay? I’m sure Nick will be thrilled either way.”
“I’m here for work, Mr. Sinclair,” she replied.
“Well, if you have a free evening, give us a call. Mildred and I would love to have you come by for dinner.” He handed her a card.
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Alexis noted that Mr. Sinclair worked for a real estate company.
“If I decide to stay, I’ll be sure to let you know. Thanks for the offer.”
He smiled at her, moved away, and resumed his own seat.
She finished the rest of the pasta, surprised she’d eaten it all. The meal had been delicious. Pushing her plate away, she swallowed the last mouthful of wine and leaned back in her chair, letting her thoughts drift.
It had been twenty-four years since she’d seen her parents. Their indistinct images were shadows on the edge of her mind, and since she had no pictures ... They’d died in a bush plane crash shortly after her tenth birthday. No one had been able to determine why the small plane had plummeted onto the rocky shore of Lake Huron, bursting into flame when it did. For months afterwards she’d awoken screaming, dreaming of her parents cries as they burned to death in the wreckage. It was one of the forces that had propelled her into this line of work. She’d learned everything she could about fire and solved puzzles relayed to it. Everyone, even children, deserved answers.
She opened the vault to the other memories that she had kept locked away all these years—memories of a sadistic, alcoholic uncle, her father’s brother. She wasn’t really surprised to learn that Uncle Nick was still alive. How did that saying go? Only the good died young? That monster would live forever.
“Excuse me. Ms. Michaels?” one of the bus boys asked.
“Yes?”
“This is for you.” He handed her an envelope.
“Thank you.” She fished a two-dollar coin out of her pants’ pocket and handed it to him. She tore open the envelope and slipped out the sheet of paper, expecting it to be a message from her profiler-partner.
Alexis,
You’ll live a lot longer if you get back into that rental car of yours and leave like you did before. Forget about this case. It’s none of your concern. Otherwise, that moose will be the least of your problems. You got lucky today. If you get in my way, you won’t.
Fire Angel
Alexis stared at the note and shivered. Fire Angel. That was the name the local newspaper had given the arsonist. Someone who knew her was behind this? Someone who had been out there on the highway with her? But there hadn’t been another car—she would’ve seen another vehicle. But how else would he know about the moose? Her stomach clenched and roiled. Suddenly, she worried that she might lose that delectable meal.
Chapter Eight
Jake sat on a stool at the bar, his artificial leg propped up on the brass rail, nursing his scotch, watching Alexis finish her meal. Andrew had begged off their weekly chess game. He’d been in Ottawa all week, helping out with a difficult case at the children’s hospital. As a former plastic surgeon, he was often called in when the disfigurement would be extreme without his kind of expertise. The child had been mauled by the neighbor’s dog. For a while, it had been touch-and-go, but the four-year-old girl had turned the corner this morning. Jake couldn’t imagine what he would do if something like that were to happen to Mia.
When he’d seen the photograph the agency had sent along with the profile of the investigator coming to help them, he’d done a double take, thinking he was imagining that she was the girl he’d searched for most of his life. But Lynette had confirmed her identity, and once she had, he’d assured Ev that working as her partner would be fine. If anyone was going to have her back, it would be him. How could he even consider putting her safety into the hands of another? She’d disappeared from his life once; he didn’t want it to happen again. If there was a chance that they could renew their friendship, then he wanted that chance, and if anything more came of it...
He glanced over at Alexis. While he’d thought himself primed, had memorized the information he’d found on the Internet as well as what Captain Peters had sent, nothing could have prepared him for the reality of finally seeing her again. For tw
enty years, he’d fantasized about this, and when it had happened, he’d frozen. He’d blown it.
Alexis hadn’t remembered him. He hadn’t changed all that much, had he? Maybe that’s what had tied his tongue in knots. She’d been polite, but distant. God, he would’ve known her anywhere. He should have told her flat out that he recognized her, that they would be working together, but now he wasn’t sure how to rectify things.
He could still see the teenage girl who had unknowingly stolen his heart in the striking woman she’d become. She’d aged much the way he’d expected she would, but in some ways, she was different from the image he’d carried in his mind. When she’d entered the office to register, he’d been surprised to see that she’d grown taller than he’d expected. She’d been small and wiry at fifteen, a late bloomer, triggering that white-knight streak of his. As an adult, she was perfectly proportioned with a slender frame that spoke of fitness but not fragility. He suspected, given her career choice, she might not have outgrown all of her tomboy tendencies.
He was disappointed to see that the long blond hair was shorter and darker than it had been when she was younger, the way it was in the dreams that occasionally haunted his sleep. Her bronzed skin had a scattering of freckles across a stubby nose and a natural blush that accented her high cheek bones. There was a crescent-shaped scar on her forehead, one she could easily have covered with hair, but she left it visible. A badge of honor? He’d known soldiers and police officers who’d done the same thing.
Her generous mouth, with those pouty lips he’d longed to kiss, was turned down, attesting to the fact that her conversation with Allan Sinclair had upset her in some way. Her sun-bleached eyebrows arched above the eyes that had haunted him for years—those huge cat’s eyes had mesmerized him as a boy and were unmistakable. Sometimes blue, sometimes green, or stormy gray when she was angry. No one could ever forget those eyes. Tonight, they were blue, the color enhanced by the sweater she wore over jeans that hugged her curves. Her feet were stuffed into black leather heeled boots. She was probably almost as tall as he was in them.
Fire Angel Page 10
