Explosive Forces

by D. D. Ayres

  “Nice try. I don’t have an account.”

  Duran shook his head. “You’re going to have to do better than that.” He held up a cell phone in an evidence bag. It was burned and warped. “Found it in the fire. Want to bet a WeMo app is right here among your phone apps?”

  They had his phone. Then they probably had his truck as well. But he needed to stay focused.

  Noah leaned back in his chair. “Then it’ll be a new account, as of yesterday.”

  Durvan frowned. “Doesn’t change anything. You could’ve decided yesterday to use the device to end your life.”

  Noah shrugged. “Sounds sloppy. Not like me. I’d never stake my life—or loss of it—on something I hadn’t used before. It might not have worked.”

  “Of course, it would work. Arson fires are often started remotely by professionals. Didn’t you have some cases last year using a WeMo?”

  Noah ignored the jibe. “You ever set up a new Wi-Fi device? Did it work for you the first time?”

  Mike snickered.

  Durvan grunted. “Fine. But you should know I’m close to probable cause on arson.” He glanced at Mike. “Need you to get a warrant for Glover’s cell phone records. And one for WeMo to see if our boy’s among their clients, and when he last used his account.”

  Mike glanced quickly at Noah. “How soon you need it? I’m working two cases at the moment. Another coming up for trial next week.”

  “Put it in your mix. As senior investigator, I’m delegating the responsibility for the warrant to you. Homeland Security is coming in first thing next week to test our explosives unit’s readiness. Got to drill over the weekend. I’ll message you the wording to take to the judge.” He turned and wagged the bag with the cell phone at Noah. “Tick tock, Glover.”

  Ignoring both men’s speculative looks, Noah turned his attention back to his computer screen.

  When Glover was gone, Mike came forward, his voice on low volume. “Man, tell me you didn’t—” He paused and suddenly backed up, both hands held up in surrender. “No, I don’t need to hear nothing. Better that way.”

  “Your call.”

  Noah first checked his bank account and his credit cards, in case he’d been induced to give the guy money. But no withdrawals had been made last night. This wasn’t about robbery. Or theft. It wasn’t even just about killing him. It was about ruining his reputation in death. So then, who would want him that kind of dead? Someone with a grudge. A felon.

  Noah studied his screen for a moment before looking up to find Mike studying him from his desk across the room. “You remember that fire bug we put away three years ago? Somebody Wheatley? I see he just got out.”

  Mike shrugged. “Don’t remember him.”

  “You know any of our convicted arsonists who’ve gotten out of prison recently?”

  “No. Only felon I know is my former neighbor Chet Haggard. I kinda feel for the old boy. Lost his wife. His house. All on account of breaking up a TV.”

  “He did the crime.”

  “Yeah. But there’re times when I have wonder about some of our laws. Here’s a good old boy, fed up with his wife watching HBO. So, he takes a baseball bat to the TV. The wife calls the police and has him arrested for destroying her property. Turns out he didn’t have the right to destroy property in his own house because this is a community property state. She owned half the TV. The poor bastard should have taken his bat to something beside their brand new 60-inch 3D smart TV. Cost more than three thousand dollars, which made destroying it a felony. Doesn’t seem quite fair.”

  “Poor impulse control.” Noah twisted away from his screen. The arson investigation squad often discussed motivation and legalities of a crime. It kept them sharp and up to date. “Could be the wife was worried that next time he got worked up, he’d take that bat to her, or one of their kids. Probably why she left him.”

  Mike stroked his chin. “Hadn’t thought about it that way.” He glanced speculatively over Noah’s shoulder. “You’re pulling up everyone you ever incarcerated?”

  Noah pegged him with a look. “Someone wants me dead. Seems like a good place to start looking for suspects.”

  “What about old girlfriends? Some bitches be crazy.”

  As the last word echoed through the room, a man in the uniform of an officer appeared in the doorway.

  “Glover. In my office. Now.”

  * * *

  The position of arson investigation captain was mostly bureaucratic. Often the arson investigation captain hadn’t been on an engine truck in years. A few had never fought a fire. Administrative all the way. Such was the case with Captain Jillian. He’d come to them from the Fire Prevention Bureau, where he’d been a commercial sprinkler and underground pipes inspector. His background made him good at dealing with city hall and city commissioners, pressing the flesh and negotiating the budget for the department. But that meant he didn’t know anything about what it took to do the job of the men and women he supervised. The best captains, from morale point of view, consulted with the experienced men and women who went out on the job on a daily basis. The arson investigators preferred it what way, too. But Captain Jillian wasn’t one of those. He wanted to be in charge of every case that had any potential for recognition. Not too surprisingly, he and Glover had bumped heads a few times since he’d joined the department sixteen months ago.

  Captain Jillian was big man, tall with wide shoulders and military bearing. But at age fifty-three his middle had spread, and he’d grayed so that his thick mustache had a steel-wool quality to it. Right now he was staring at Glover with undisguised dislike.

  “Where have you been all morning?”

  “Working a case.” Noah met his superior’s gaze squarely. He wasn’t going to let the man get to him. He could afford a little scrutiny. Because he’d solved a lot of cases since becoming an arson investigator, he’d had a lot of autonomy about where he was at any given time. But he could see in the man’s expression that his superior was about to give him some cheap grief.

  “I don’t much like you, Glover. But you clear cases, so I haven’t said anything.”

  Noah kept his mouth shut. The captain had said plenty over the past six months since they tangled about a case that the captain had insisted on running, over Noah’s objections. The fact that it didn’t turn out well had sealed their relationship as one of mutual bad feeling. It just hadn’t affected much, so far.

  “But now I have a problem with you in front of me I can’t and won’t ignore. I received an odd text from you at one o’clock this morning. Now I’m told you started a fire last night with the intent of killing yourself.”

  “No, sir. Someone tried to murder me last night.”

  Jillian looked more surprised than he should have. “That’s quite an accusation.”

  “Less wild, sir, than an arson investigator unaccountably deciding to take his life by fire instead of using the weapon he carries daily.”

  Jillian blinked. “Yes, well, men with disordered minds aren’t usually thinking in such terms.”

  Noah felt himself getting pissed off. “And yet, I am.”

  “You have a point. According to investigator Durvan, the circumstantial evidence is compelling but not yet probable. Until then, we will continue to behave as though nothing has occurred. But I wanted you to hear it from me. If and when Durvan gets probable cause, I won’t jeopardize the reputation of the unit to shield your ungrateful ass.”

  “Ungrateful.” That was the key word. If he wanted to grovel … Yeah. Sure. If it would speed this up.

  Noah looked down, staring at his boot tips as if he’d never seen them before. “I appreciate all you do for the arson unit, Captain. And for me. Any help you can give, under the circumstances, will be greatly appreciated.”

  “It’s damn little. The media, so far, haven’t caught a whiff of this. But I expect that to change swiftly. As of now, you are not to have any part in this case. I would put you on inactive duty, but I need every man working. Besides
, it won’t look good for the fire department and the administration if…” If it turns out we are in error. Jillian let the thought die. But they both knew this was now as much about managing damage as it was about the truth. As Durvan had already warned him, the administration would do whatever necessary to shift the blame onto his shoulders, if it came to that.

  Jillian reached out to move a pen on his desk that had been lying there minding its own business. “But if I get whiff of you interfering in any way with this investigation, I’ll put you on leave without pay.” He looked up to make certain Noah was listening. “Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Noah made it into the hall without cussing. But when he looked up he whispered, “Fuck.” His father and his son were talking with Crissie at the front door.

  “Hey, son.” His father lifted a hand, face eased into smile lines and crow’s feet around identical blue eyes. Father and son were amazingly alike, same height and coloring, though Shiloh Glover’s wavy hair was heavily salted with gray. And his waist wasn’t as trim.

  “We’re all packed for a few days of surf, sand, and redfish.” He ruffled Andy’s blond curls with a big hard hand. “Isn’t that right?”

  Andy nodded then flew down the hall and grabbed his dad by the knees. “Come on, Dad!”

  Noah bent and picked up his son, anchoring him with an arm against his chest. “How’re you two going to catch redfish?”

  “Brown shrimp!” Andy held up his hand for his father to give him a high five.

  “Don’t go teaching the boy the wrong way around.” Shiloh Glover grinned as his son walked toward him. “This time of year, redfish go after plugs. Shrimp are summer bait.”

  “Whatever Grampa says. He’s bigger than us, so we have to listen.” Noah poked his son gently in the belly. That never failed to make Andy collapse in infectious giggles.

  After a few more pokes, Andy struggled to be set down. Usually, his father complied. But this time Noah held onto him a little tighter. Twisting his head around right and left, Andy asked, “Where’s Harley?”

  “Visiting a friend.” Noah kept his voice conversational.

  “Like a sleepover?” Andy had just had his first sleepover with a cousin.

  “Yeah, definitely a sleepover. But he’s coming home today.” Needing to change the subject, Noah made eye contact with his father. “Where’s Mom?”

  “In the car, using her phone. She’s arranging to get some groceries delivered so we won’t have to stop and shop tonight when we get down to Padre. They got this new phone app where a grocery store will deliver to your door whatever’s on the list you send them.” He met his son’s gaze with a question he did not want to ask aloud.

  Noah turned to Crissie. “Would you mind showing Andy where to find the Men’s?”

  “I don’t need to go, Dad.”

  His father grinned at him. “Padre Island is a nine-hour drive. Think you can hold it until then?

  Andy gave him a disbelieving look. “We’re going to stop at Buc-ee’s for lunch. GiGi says they have the cleanest restrooms.”

  “Then I’ll buy you an orange juice to drink on the way down so you’ll be prepared. Now scoot.”

  When father and son had stepped into Noah’s office and shut the door, Shiloh spoke. “Didn’t want to tell you over the phone. A warrant was served as we were packing up to search the house.”

  “Did they wreck the place?”

  “With your mother watching? Not likely. They were fairly respectful. But they did take a few things. Your personal laptop, all your work files, a few tools from the garage, and the gas can for the lawn mower.” They both knew what that was about. Most likely the fire had been started using gasoline. It was ubiquitous, cheap, and effective.

  “Sorry to put you through that, Dad.”

  Shiloh nodded. “You put me through worse growing up.” He reached out and grabbed Noah by the back of the neck and pulled him close, whispering in his ear. “You clear your name, son. Your mother and I got Andy in hand.”

  Andy came sprinting back just as they opened the door.

  Noah grabbed him about the waist and swung him high off the floor. It was a game they played. “Give me a hug, Andy. Grampa’s ready to go.”

  Andy looked from his grandfather to his dad, his eyes suddenly shining like crystal blue lakes. “You aren’t coming?”

  Noah smiled. “You see these people in here? If I leave, some of them will have to work extra hours. We’ve talked about how being a man means pulling your own weight, right? I need to pull mine now.”

  Andy’s lower lip began to tremble. “Can you and Harley come after work?”

  “Maybe in a few days, if my work’s done. Meanwhile, you and Grampa fill the freezer with fish so I can grill up a batch when you get home. And watch out for jellyfish.”

  Andy turned back for help. “We can wait, can’t we, Grampa?”

  Shiloh smiled. “Maybe. But the fish can’t.”

  Noah gave his son a hard hug, feeling the fragile bones of his ribs through his jacket. Something powerful and protective and dangerous all in one moved through his chest when he considered his child. To his last breath. That was only way he knew how to describe the feeling.

  When they were gone, Noah turned to find Durvan leaning out of his doorway, staring.

  “You saw my kid.” He pointed back to the closed door. “Andy lost a mother. You really think I’d do anything that would take his father away from him?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer but turned and walked back into his office.

  Half an hour later, Noah strode out of the Arson Investigations offices. He was loaded now with more information and a place to start. That place was the woman who had saved his life the night before.

  At least now he had a name. Carly Harrington-Reese. After that, Google had inundated him with enough information to make interrogating her an even more interesting prospect.

  Picked up by an agency at seventeen, she’d become one of those supermodels, accustomed to the best of everything. She came from the eastside. Probably grew up in hard times. Then her looks turn out to be her ticket out. She’s instantly famous because of the body God gave her. Hard times nothing but a bad dream. She’s certain the good times will go on forever. But something happened. Five years ago, she dropped out at the top. Lots of speculation but no explanation in the tabloids.

  Noah didn’t need much imagination to fill in possibilities. Money made in that world comes and goes fast. The high life is expensive.

  Maybe the key word was “high.” She could have snorted her fortune away. Other supermodels had been known to do the same.

  Now Carly Reese was home, out of the blue, and sinking money into Flawless. Everything she had left? No way to know. But he did know some things. Arson was often about money.

  He let his mind wander down possibilities, however remote. She might have had second thoughts before the boutique opened. Had she hired a professional to get her money back via insurance? Then changed her mind when she found a man and his dog—?

  He rubbed a hand down his face. None of that explained why he was there unconscious in that blaze. Not likely a boutique owner was involved in that. Someone wanted him, Noah Glover specifically, dead.

  The thought carved out a space in his middle. He knew fear. Every firefighter did. The professional learned to control that fear, use it as a tool to fight the fire, and protect himself and his fellow firefighters.

  So, no, Carly Harrington-Reese wasn’t his arsonist. But he couldn’t wait to question her.

  It had nothing to do with the images that had flooded his screen when he went in search of images of her. Not pornographic, or pervert paparazzi sneak shots, these professionally done images showed the stunning model in all her glory. Most were less provocative than his nude stance in his hospital room.

  A flush edged up the back of his neck at the recall of his behavior. It had to have been the residual of the drugs still at work. He’d done some stuff in
his life, streaking on a dare through a women’s dorm at the University of Texas, for instance. But flaunting himself as an adult before a stranger? Definitely the drugs.

  Now that he was thinking straight, he wanted two things from Ms. Harrington-Reese. One: answers about the events of last night. Two: Harley.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I know who you are. You’re the lingerie model Carly Harrington-Reese.”

  Carly turned to find Noah Glover filling her rear entrance doorway. He’d yelled her name because of the noise from the giant fans set up next door to dry out the space.

  He walked right in like he owned the place. “I read all about you.”

  Carly rolled her eyes and kept folding one of the crocheted ribbon sweaters she’d discovered untouched under a tarp. “Good for you. I hope it was an edifying experience.”

  He paused as his gaze slid over her in that way men have when they want a woman to know they are looking and liking what they see. “I don’t know about edifying. But it was informative. And entertaining.”

  He’d seen the photos! French Vogue. But if he thought that knowledge was going to ruffle her, he truly didn’t know who she was.

  She put every bit of skepticism and scorn she could muster into her voice. “You speak French?”

  He smirked. “Let’s just say the photo spread didn’t require translation.”

  She shrugged and continued to fold. “So we’re even. Not that I care.” Which wasn’t really true. She remembered thinking when she saw the layout that she’d never felt more naked in her life. European magazines preferred their models to look more realistic, dimpled flesh and all. Not that she’d had that problem at nineteen.

  She glanced sideways at him, prepared to verbally abuse him right out that door. But to her surprise his mouth had lost its humor.

  He backed up a step though he wasn’t actually too close. “About this morning. I apologize.” The strain of shouting raked through his voice “What I did was insulting. That’s not my style. All I can say in my defense is that I was still feeling the effects of the concoction that knocked me out last night.”