by Beverly Long
“Families. Hard to figure out sometimes.”
“True. It was nice of you to volunteer to help Henry with the shed,” she said. “I didn’t realize that you had those skills.”
“I get by. Good enough for shed building anyway. I like working with my hands. My dad is an amateur carpenter, and I’ve helped him on several projects.”
Now she understood the calluses on his palms. She’d shared a love of words with her dad. He’d been a newspaper editor and she’d been proud to follow somewhat in his footsteps. She’d expected to have lots of time to learn from him. Then life had taken a very unexpected turn when her parents, coming home from a social event, had both been killed in an automobile accident, victims of a drunk driver. The shock had paralyzed Tara. She’d somehow managed to arrange their funerals. Two months later, she’d met Michael. Now, in retrospect, she wondered if her judgment had been impaired.
“Well, hopefully, the two of you can make a dent in it during the six weeks that you’re here.”
He kept his eyes on the road. “If it takes a couple extra weeks, I don’t think Chase will mind me staying at his place.”
What kind of arrangement had he made with his current employer? “You must have had a lot of vacation time built up in order to take that much time off.”
She didn’t think he was going to answer the question. Or move at all. They were stopped at the first intersection past the Fentons. There was no reason he couldn’t go. There wasn’t another car on the road.
“Jake,” she prompted.
He turned to look at her. “I’m on a leave of absence. I got shot in the leg about three months ago.”
Shot. He’d been hurt. Her dessert rumbled in her stomach. “I had no idea. I mean, no one could tell. You’re not limping or anything.”
He smiled. “I paid attention to what the physical therapist told me to do.”
“Did they catch the man who did it?”
“Woman. She was my partner. I returned fire and killed her.”
His partner. The cops she’d known in D.C. were closer to their partners than to their sisters and brothers. It was a tight bond. “That must have been horrible,” she said. She reached out and touched his arm. “What happened?”
Jake stared at her hand, then slowly lifted his eyes until they were staring at each other. “I don’t talk about it much.”
It was the same thing he’d said about his divorce. “I…I’m just so sorry that happened to you. You must have trusted her a great deal. And it would have felt like such a betrayal, like a piece of you had turned bad.”
He tilted his head ever so slightly and seemed to consider her words. “You know,” he said finally, “you’re the first person to say it exactly that way. How did you know?”
She knew a lot about trusting the wrong person. About the bone-deep pain of being connected to someone and being terribly wrong about that person. “I…” Could she tell him? Could she take the chance? She just didn’t know. “I’m not sure,” she lied.
He shoved the car into Park and leaned across the seat. “Tara,” he said, very quietly. Then he cupped the sides of her face with his palms, and kissed her.
Gentle at first. His lips were warm and soft, and she could taste coffee and peaches. It had been so long and it felt so good. She opened her mouth, and he didn’t hesitate. The kiss went deep, his tongue in her mouth, consuming, possessing, owning. And just when she thought it would end, it didn’t.
When he finally pulled back, he was breathing hard.
Yikes. The man’s mouth is a weapon. He should carry a permit.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the first night I met you. And if it matters,” he added, a smile in his brown eyes, “you’re the first girl I ever kissed on a gravel road in the middle of nowhere.”
The absurdity of the situation hit her. They were parking, or rather in Park, in a police car, and necking like high school kids. What the hell had Alice put in that peach pie? “I’m not looking for a relationship,” she said.
“And I’m only here for a few more weeks.”
It was the perfect arrangement. No strings. “That’s fair,” she whispered.
He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “At the risk of moving way too fast and you jumping out of this car, I’ve just got to ask—when we get to town, will you come to Chase’s house?”
They both knew what the real question was. And she desperately wanted to say yes. For one night to forget that he was something she couldn’t have. To forget that she’d made choices that couldn’t be undone. To be young again.
“My house is closer,” she whispered. She pointed to the right. “Turn that way.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and accelerated. When they crested the next hill, they saw the smoke.
“Oh, my God. My house is on fire,” she said, just as the squad car’s radio crackled to life.
Chapter Eight
He and Tara arrived from one direction at almost the exact same moment that Wyattville’s volunteer firefighters arrived from another. It was the garage, not the house, that was burning.
“Stay back,” he ordered and jumped from the car. The breeze Tara had celebrated earlier wasn’t helping them now. The garage was fully engulfed in flames and the house would go next.
Unless they could work very quickly. He watched the men scramble down from the truck and efficiently move to get hoses connected. While this was a volunteer unit, Jake could immediately sense that they knew what the hell they were doing. He was grateful. Tara did not deserve to lose her home.
Once the water was pouring on the flames, he turned to find her. He had a moment of panic when she wasn’t standing by his squad car. Then he saw her, standing next to Alice, who had arrived along with a steady stream of what must be other neighbors. The older woman had her arm around Tara’s shoulder, but Tara wasn’t hiding her eyes, hoping that it would all go away. She was scanning the crowd, looking.
She was expecting to see someone. Who, damn it?
It took thirty minutes to extinguish the fire. Once the ruins were simply smoldering, the fire chief made his way toward Jake. “Evening, sir,” he said. “I’m Chad Wilson. Toby is my dad. He said he’s been doing some repairs for you.”
Jake shook the firefighter’s hand. “What do you think, Chad?”
“I think we’re damn lucky that her van wasn’t parked inside with a full tank of gas. It would have made it tough to handle in this wind. The building is a total loss.”
“Is there an arson investigator in this community?”
Chad nodded. “I’m a trained investigator. We’ve got some additional resources we can call in Minneapolis if we need to. However, this one isn’t that tough. There’s no question that this fire was deliberately set.”
“How do you know that?”
Jake whirled around. He hadn’t seen Tara approaching. Her face was pale, her skirt was dirty from the blowing soot, but she didn’t look surprised to hear that it had been arson.
“Hey, Tara. Sorry about the garage. But at least we saved the house.”
“Thank you, Chad. I’m grateful. Really. Can you tell me how you know it was arson?”
Chad looked uncomfortable. “I really shouldn’t be saying much more, Tara. Not until…that is…until you’ve made a statement.”
Oh, boy, he thought. Her face colored red with frustration or anger or a mixture of both. “A statement,” she said between clenched teeth. “I have to make a statement.”
Now Chad was looking at the ground. “Chief Vernelli here should take your statement. Make sure your whereabouts in the last hour are accounted for. Hell, Tara, I’m doing this for your protection.”
“I did not burn my own garage down,” Tara said. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. And if you had any sense…” She started to point her finger in Chad’s face.
Jake decided to save the man. After all, he and the other firefighters had saved the house. “I don’t need to get a statement from
Tara. I know where she was for the last hour. With me.”
That got Chad to raise his head. And his eyes were full of interest.
Jake held up a hand. “We were dinner guests at the Fentons’.” His tone said it all: Stop your speculation. This part of the discussion is over. “Now why do you think the fire was deliberately set?”
“Multiple points of origin, and somebody cut a damn hole in the roof to make it spread faster.”
“I want to take a look,” Jake said. Maybe there would be something that would lead him to the arsonist’s identity.
“We’ve got to wait for it to cool down. Tomorrow morning, when it’s daylight, I’ll be back. If there’s anything in there that will help us identify who set the fire, you’ll be the first to know. Right now, though, I’m going to secure the area with some crime scene tape.” Chad turned toward Tara. “A couple of my men will stick around for a few hours. Sometimes there can be ash hot enough to reignite, and with this wind you might be in danger in the house.”
“She’s not going to be in the house.”
Now Tara turned on him. “If you think…” She stopped. “Chad, will you excuse us?” she asked.
He looked very disappointed. “Sure.”
Just as soon as the man was far enough away that their conversation could be private, Jake jumped in. “Tara, I’m just the temporary guy who maybe doesn’t know anything. But something is not right. You’ve had nothing but trouble for the last few days. Now, we’re dealing with someone who is crazy enough to deliberately start a fire on a windy summer evening. You’re in danger. You need to tell me what’s going on or I’m not going to be able to help you.”
He could see the indecision in her eyes and for a brief second, he thought he’d gotten through. Then she squared her shoulders. “I understand that it’s probably not in my best interest to stay here tonight. But I do need to get some things from my house. Then I’ll see if I can stay with Alice and Henry for the night.”
“Stay with me,” he said. He lowered his voice even more. “I’m not expecting anything. I mean, what happened in the car was pretty damn nice. And I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t really appreciate the invitation to come back here with you. But after this, well, I know you’ve got other things on your mind. I just want you to be safe.”
“But…”
He went for the final blow. “If Chad is right and the fire was deliberately set, somebody is at best trying to irritate you, or at worst trying to hurt you. You might be putting Alice and Henry in danger if it becomes known that you’re staying there.”
She chewed on her lip. It made him remember how sweet she tasted. He looked away. Tara was going to sleep in one bedroom and he was going to sleep in another. Only a jerk would think he could pick up where he’d left off after something like this.
Tara looked him in the eye. “I don’t want anybody to be in danger because of me. Anybody.”
He got the strangest sense that she was warning him. Of what? “I’m a cop, Tara. I can take care of myself. I can take care of you.”
She didn’t respond. Just turned and went inside her house. Jake walked over to where Andy was shooting the breeze with a couple of the firefighters. “Hey, Chief,” the young man said. “Got lucky here tonight, didn’t we?”
He’d almost gotten lucky. Real lucky.
Damn, he was as bad as Chad Wilson. He gave himself a mental head slap. He needed to get his mind out of the gutter and get it back in the game.
In this weather, this could have been a catastrophe. Even though the rain had been fast and furious that first night he’d arrived in Wyattville, the consistent heat over the past few weeks and the wind the past couple of days had taken a toll. The fire could not only have spread to the house, it was possible that it might have spread to the dry grass across the road and just kept on burning. Wildfires didn’t just happen out West.
It wouldn’t have been the easiest call to make. Hey, Chase. Your town, yeah the one you gave me to watch over, is nothing but smoke and ashes.
Whoever had done this was either really stupid or really crazy. “Who called it in, Andy?”
“Some guy. Didn’t give his name. No caller ID.”
Even though it was eighty degrees, a chill ran down Jake’s spine. Somebody had deliberately set a fire and then called it in. Had he or she wanted Tara to be there, wanted to watch her reaction, her despair?
Jake scanned the crowd. For the first time, he hated being an outsider. Most everyone was a stranger to him. He didn’t know their faces, their habits, their quirks. “Andy, take a look around. Is there anybody here that you don’t know?”
He waited while the young man scanned the crowd. “Nope. A couple people that I haven’t seen for a few months, but everybody belongs.”
Jake didn’t feel any better. Was it possible that someone Tara trusted was trying to hurt her?
“I’m going to call the county and see if they can loan us somebody to watch this property tonight.”
“I could stay here,” Andy volunteered.
“I want you to go find Donny Miso. If he doesn’t have a really good alibi for tonight, you call me.”
* * *
TARA WAS QUIET on the way into town. He figured she was probably exhausted. It was almost eleven and Jake knew that she’d probably been up at around five that morning. When he parked his squad car in front of Chase’s brick ranch and killed the engine, she just sat there.
“Planning on coming in?” he asked.
“Life is funny, you know,” she said.
“‘Funny ha-ha’ or ‘funny, this cannot be happening’?”
“Tonight, mostly the latter. If you’d have told me this morning that I was going to end up spending the night sleeping in Chase Montgomery’s house, I’d have thought you were crazy. But here I am.”
Yeah, life was funny. He’d been a decorated police officer, one of the first of his class to make detective. It was going to be his life’s work. Now look at him. Would his life ever be the same? “I guess,” he said, “the trick is to roll with the punches, go with the flow, make lemonade from lemons. Pick your cliché.”
“Know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em,” she said.
She sounded weary. Since the first moment he’d met her, she’d seemed to have tireless energy and such a great sense of purpose. Nel’s was more than just a restaurant to her. It was a place where people gathered, where stories were told, where friendships were cemented. It was her contribution back to a community that she loved.
He absolutely hated seeing her so defeated. “It’s going to be okay, Tara. Tomorrow is a new day. You’ll be more rested and ready to take it on. And we’ll catch the person who did this.”
She drew in a deep breath. “A garage is nothing. I know that. I didn’t even keep anything of value in there.” Her voice cracked at the end. He could hear the tears that she was trying so desperately to hold back. That was his undoing.
“Oh, Tara,” he said, pulling her into his arms. He rubbed her back.
She pressed her face against his shoulder and started to cry as if her heart was breaking. Big choking sobs. Tears that wet his shirt.
He held her, feeling clumsy and inept and more angry than ever. She was hurting and somebody was going to pay. “It’s going to be okay. I promise, Tara. I promise.”
* * *
TARA WAS MORTIFIED that she’d cried all over Jake’s shirt. He’d just been so nice. And it continued after they got inside. He showed her the empty bedroom and the bath. He got her a glass of water and offered her magazines to read. When she declined, he turned on the television and asked her if she had a favorite program. Then he offered her a bowl of ice cream.
Finally, exhausted from his politeness, she took a shower. She knew she reeked of smoke and did not want to leave the smell in Chase’s house. There was expensive shampoo in the guest shower, and it made her wonder if solemn Chase had an occasion to entertain female guests who enjoyed the little luxuries of
life. She rinsed and rinsed and wished she could wash away the day.
She finally shut off the water, got out, dried off and put on clean underwear and a big T-shirt that she’d stuffed in her overnight bag. Finally, she brushed her teeth. She turned off the lights, slipped into the strange bed and stared into the darkness. Then she got out of bed, shuffled her way to the door and locked it.
Was she locking Jake out or herself in? He’d been a gentleman tonight. After all, she had invited him to her place. Neither of them were kids. They both knew the score. Classic hookup.
Except that she’d never really been a hookup kind of girl. She’d dated a lot in college and had two relationships that each lasted more than a year. She’d slept with both of those men and had mourned the loss of the closeness when each relationship had ended. Then there’d been Michael. He’d told her that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She’d liked believing that. She’d been ready to settle down.
Tonight when Jake had held her face in his hands and kissed her, she’d felt terribly unsettled. But in a wonderful way. The need had been almost more than she could bear. She had wanted him with a ferociousness that bordered on scary. She’d suggested her house because, quite frankly, she wasn’t sure she could last until they got to town. And he’d been pretty much keeping pace.
At her house, he’d kept his professional distance. No one would have known that just minutes before, they’d been devouring each other or that they’d had plans to heat up the sheets. And then he’d literally held her at arm’s length until she’d thrown herself at him and cried all over his shirt.
Had it been that easy for him to forget about the kiss? Or what almost came next? She didn’t think she would ever forget it.
That, she decided as she crawled back into bed, was the reason she locked the door.
Once in bed, in the quiet darkness, she allowed herself to think about what she’d been avoiding since she’d seen the flames dancing out of her garage. Should she run now, without knowing for sure if it was Michael? What if it wasn’t? She’d be giving up everything she’d worked for. What if it was him? Could she afford to wait even another day? Her mind was whirling. She forced herself to breathe deep, to calm herself. She closed her eyes and envisioned spring flowers, miles and miles of them. She thought of puppies and snowflakes and warm cherry pie.
