Flash Point

by Diane Benefiel

  Although he couldn’t have gotten more than a couple of hours sleep, Brad looked alert and vital. He certainly hadn’t suffered from an adrenaline crash. He sat opposite Emma at the table as the aroma of coffee permeated the air. “We’ll need to go over anything you think might have to do with this. Try to remember if Walt seemed worried about anything in particular. But tomorrow, after you’ve gotten some sleep.”

  Emma nodded, hands clasped in front of her. Her experience with the police had taught her they could not be trusted, but her feelings about Brad were confused. Regardless, she knew she had to cooperate to figure out if she was being targeted. She tamped down on the uneasiness left by the night’s events. She would have to be hyper-vigilant because she would never allow anyone to scare her away from her home.

  Chapter Seven

  Despite her lack of sleep, Emma was up and showered by seven the next morning. She waited for her coffee to brew while staring out the front window of her cabin. The wind had brought in a storm. The sky was cast with swirling clouds coming over the western mountains. The lake was choppy with whitecaps kicked up by the gusts. Rain pelted down from the saturated clouds, and she went outside with a steaming mug of coffee to stand under the eaves of the porch. From the shelter of the overhang, she witnessed lightning flash across the sky to the accompaniment of a cannon shot of thunder. The fresh aroma of wet earth overlay the acrid stench from the previous night’s fire.

  An SUV with Hangman’s Loss Police Department emblazoned on the door, pulled in front of the cabin. The engine cut off and Brad opened the door. He clamped his dark hat on his head and jogged to the porch. He’d changed his clothes; his jeans and heavy jacket over a plaid shirt were clean. When he stood in front of her in the half-light of the storm, the lines of fatigue on his face showed he’d finally hit a wall.

  “You haven’t slept.”

  He shook his head and reached for her mug. Taking a deep sip, he kept his eyes on hers over the rim.

  When he went to pass it back, Emma put up a hand. “Drink it. I’ll get another.” Moments later, she returned to find Brad at the rail, gaze on the storm over the lake. Rain marked a steady rhythm on the tin roof.

  “When I drove up and saw you, you looked so natural. Like you’ve always lived here. It’s hard to remember that until a week ago you lived in L.A.”

  Emma watched the rain dripping from the eaves. “To me, this is all so new and fascinating. I love the storm. It’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah.”

  She glanced at him. He was looking at her, eyes dark under the rim of his hat. His gaze sharpened and dipped to her mouth. She took a quick step back, brain scrambling for something to divert his attention. “Did you talk to Randall again?”

  He gave her a thoughtful look. “You won’t always be able to sidetrack me, Emmaline.” He took another sip of coffee before continuing. “Amazingly, Randall’s heart is fine. But he bought himself time to lawyer up. Lucky for us, the lawyer’s a smart man. Bill now understands cooperation might get him some leniency, so he got downright chatty.

  “He was paid four hundred and fifty dollars to set the fire. The guy isn’t too sharp and was likely hired because he didn’t ask questions. Says he doesn’t know the man who hired him.” Thunder rumbled over the lake and a gust of wind brought a spray of rain onto the porch. “He claims he doesn’t know the name of the guy who hired him. Said he approached him a couple of days ago, wanted him to torch your garage. Randall thought he’d stow anything he could sell for extra cash before he dumped a bunch of gas and lit a match. Some of your tools were behind the building and didn’t burn.”

  “Well, that’s something, at least.” Emma frowned, looking at Brad’s tired face. She had an unexpected urge to pull him into a hug. Unsettled, she continued, “Do you believe him?”

  “Yeah, I do. Bishop PD knows all about Randall. He’s been arrested a few times for DUI, drug possession, that kind of thing. He did a little time for B and E. He’s someone who’s always on the lookout for a quick and easy way to feed his addictions.”

  Emma had seen the type in every rundown motel she and her mother had ever lived in. The image only served to remind her she would never go back to that life.

  Thunder rumbled across the valley, though the storm appeared to be abating. “Emmaline, can you think of anyone who would want to cause you harm? Maybe an ex-boyfriend or coworker who has a grudge who may have followed you up here?”

  She was already shaking her head. “No one.”

  “Take a minute to think. Ex-boyfriends are the most likely.”

  “There’s no one,” she repeated.

  “No ex-boyfriends? I don’t believe it.”

  “None with any strong passions involved. I can’t see anyone I’ve known motivated to take extreme measures to get at me.”

  Brad looked unconvinced. “Maybe you were unaware of how they felt. I’ll need their names regardless.” At her reluctant nod, he went on, “Has anyone been asking about this property? If you want to sell it?”

  She told him about the letters from Great Mountain. “They were persistent, but from what I can tell, really didn’t cross the line into harassment.” She went into the cabin to retrieve the letters and found a slip of paper to jot down the names of the boyfriends she’d had, then handed them over.

  Brad scanned the list of names, then raised an eyebrow at her. “This is it?

  You’ve only had two boyfriends?” At her baleful expression he held up his hands. “Okay, I’ll follow up on these.” He folded the papers and put them into his breast pocket before turning to look at her again. “The Bishop boys will check around town, see if anyone knows anything. Since Randall’s best chance of a minimum sentence depends on his cooperation, I’ll keep talking to him, see if he’ll give up anything more.”

  Considering his effort, Emma commented, “Must be a slow day if you can put those kinds of resources into a garage fire.”

  Brad smiled. “Yeah, well. One of my officers, Warren, told the Bishop cops we were looking for the guy who’d torched my girlfriend’s garage. They took it a lot more seriously then.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why would he think that? I thought the girl at the café was your girlfriend.”

  “Madison? Madison is not my girlfriend. I wouldn’t be hitting on you if I had a girlfriend.”

  She remembered how he’d held her the night before but shrugged. “Last night you were being nice. You haven’t been hitting on me.”

  Brad gave her a hard look, then took her coffee mug and set it down with his on the porch rail. He turned, taking her shoulders in his big hands.

  “Pay attention.”

  He dipped his head, then paused, his lips a breath away from hers, eyes open and dark, before closing the distance. The rain pounding on the metal roof kept time with her racing heart.

  Warm, firm lips angled across hers, the brim of his hat brushing her forehead. Her heart thundered and she melted into the kiss. Warm palms reached up to cup her face while she slid her hands along his hips under his coat. His tongue parted her lips and she opened to him, a humming sound of pleasure low in her throat when he deepened the kiss. His fingers traced lightly along her jaw for long moments before his lips left hers to graze her cheek and along her temple. The shivers Emma felt had nothing to do with adrenaline or cold and everything to do with heat and desire.

  He pulled away momentarily before ducking his head to brush her another kiss against her lips. “Did you notice this time?”

  She stared at him, her brain in total meltdown. She felt like she’d been pulled out into the storm, pummeled, shaken, and disoriented. “Notice what?”

  He grinned. “Emmaline, sweetheart, just so there’s no mistaking, that was me hitting on you.” He ran his fingers through her hair before dropping his hands to step back.

  Still tingling from the kiss, she could only stare at him, at a complete loss.

  “And the woman at the café? Madison? She’s my sister. And as for Warren, he
saw me holding you last night and drew his own conclusions.”

  “That’s absurd.” Emma tried to gather her scattered thoughts. “I don’t like cops.” But her statement lacked her usual conviction, as if she was saying the words by rote and they had lost their meaning.

  He exhaled noisily. “You’ll have to tell me about that sometime. Right now, I’m going home to crash for a couple hours.” He leaned forward to whisper softly in her ear. “See if you can stay out of trouble while I’m doing that, okay?” He brushed his lips across her cheek then ducked into the lessening rain.

  He strode to his SUV and drove off, leaving a bemused Emma to pick up the coffee mugs and take them inside.

  ***

  Emma and Dory spent the rest of the morning going through the cabins. They planned to completely outfit those closest to the lake, to scavenge working coffeemakers, toasters, and anything else that was needed and bring those to the cabins they hoped to rent first. Once those were ready and they had some money coming in, they could begin to furnish the remaining cabins.

  Then there was the garage. Emma stood before the charred wreckage. While the damage wasn’t as bad as she’d expected, it still looked like a disaster. The fire had been mostly contained to one side and while the built-in cabinets were a loss, from what she could see, the building still looked structurally sound. An inspector was due out the following week to determine whether it could be salvaged or would need to be torn down. Thank God Walt had paid the insurance premium through the end of the year.

  She trudged from the garage to the main cabin, the road muddy from the rain. She paused at the front step when she recognized Bert Morales’s truck turning off the highway. He parked and got out, strolling over to where Emma stood.

  “Hear you had trouble last night.” He motioned toward the garage. “Looks like a helluva mess.”

  Emma nodded. “I guess word gets around a little town.”

  “Sure does. Thought I’d come by and see if you need any help cleaning up. And to say ‘hey’ to my daughter and grandson.”

  “Dory’s your daughter?” Emma couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d said he’d set the fire himself. “Why didn’t she mention it?”

  Bert grimaced. “She’s mad at me. We had words the last time we spoke, but her mother said she’d kick my butt if I didn’t make it right. She’d do it, too.” He ran a thumb under a suspender strap. “I wanted Dory to come back home to stay. She finally left that bastard, and I thought she could stay with us until she gets her feet back under her.” He sighed. “But she’s a stubborn girl and thinks she needs to have a place of her own.” His lined face clearly showed his worry.

  “I’m glad you’ve come to talk with her. Family drama can be the hardest to get past.” Emma knew that from personal experience. “I can’t say I’m sorry she’s here with me, though. She’s a hard worker, and I need the help.”

  Bert looked over to the burned garage. “I hope you’re both safe here.”

  “Since the cops have the guy who started the fire, I think we will be.” Emma waved in the direction of the first cabin. “Go on up the road to Black Bear. Dory and Adrian were heading that way about half an hour ago. And don’t worry about the cleanup,” she added. “I can’t do anything until the insurance company and the fire department clear it.”

  Emma watched Bert walk through the trees. She knew how hard life could become when an estrangement became bitter and stubborn pride kept people apart.

  She crossed the porch to her cabin, propping the door open as the afternoon had turned warm. The storm had blown through, leaving behind the clean, damp smell of the forest. She pulled off her sweatshirt to hang on a hook in the closet. An edgy, unsettled feeling that had nothing to do with the fire had her drumming her fingers on her pant leg. And though there was plenty of work that needed doing, she had no interest in starting on any of it. She placed the blame squarely on Bradley Gallagher’s broad shoulders.

  Making a quick decision, she grabbed her keys and purse, dug out her sunglasses, and headed for her car. At the highway, instead of turning north into town, she headed south, deeper into the mountains in the direction Brad had taken her. Aspens grew thick on either side of the road, and where the mountain climbed steeply to the east, tall pines rose majestically.

  A gravel road she hadn’t noticed before veered to the right and Emma guessed it was the driveway to Brad’s house. The highway continued to circle the lake until it followed a curve, crossed over a rise and into the valley. The creek that fed Hangman’s Lake tumbled over boulders at the bottom of a ravine, aspens crowding its banks. The beauty of the scene lifted her spirits, making her wonder how she had survived for so long living amid the concrete and asphalt of the big city.

  The highway continued its circuitous route deeper through the valley and into the mountains and she finally pulled over at another lake. This one was smaller than Hangman’s Lake, with a campground on its western edge. She parked off the road to take in the scenery. A few fishermen were scattered along the shore. A young boy, his fishing pole bent and line quivering, shouted excitedly to his father in a high voice. The dad spoke calmly and when the boy reeled the fish into shore, the man swooped it up in a net. Watching the scene made her want to go through her grandfather’s fishing gear, then get up early one morning and see what she remembered from his lessons on the art of trout fishing.

  Leaning against her car, she tilted her face to the warm sun, closing her eyes. Emma finally allowed herself to think about what she’d walled off from her mind all day. Bradley Gallagher. Police Chief Bradley Gallagher. Emma Kincaid, who’d just as soon kick a cop in the shin as talk to one, had been cuddled up to a cop last night and been kissed near senseless by him this morning. She didn’t want to be attracted to him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  And if she was honest, since last night she hadn’t been sending him any slow down or stop signals. Responding to his kiss as if she were a Roman candle and he’d lit the fuse surely wasn’t how to show him she wasn’t interested. For her own self-preservation, she had to stop the madness.

  After leaning on Brad last night, she hoped he didn’t think her weak, someone who couldn’t take care of herself, or stand up to difficulties unless she had a strong man to support her. She had never depended on a man before.

  She opened her eyes to see a red-tailed hawk circling lazily on an air current. She was beginning to realize the need to protect was ingrained in Brad’s character. But beyond that, he cared deeply about his people. That had come through loud and clear as he’d driven her through the community. The idea that such a man could be attracted to her was a heady feeling, even while it made her wary. She’d lived without intimacy, emotional and physical, for so long she knew she could survive without either. Her mother’s experiences had shown her that relationships were fraught with peril. Trudy had always been looking for love, mostly with losers, teaching her daughter to be cautious about who she let in her life.

  Getting back in her car, Emma swung it around and headed back the way she’d come. In a quick decision, she drove past her cabins toward Hangman’s Loss. Entering town, she found a spot on the street and parked in front of the café. Just because she wasn’t open to hooking up with the rugged chief didn’t mean she would ignore the connections she wanted to build with the community, and that included the chief’s sister.

  Chapter Eight

  Emma walked in and Maddy greeted her with a friendly wave. She wondered how Maddy had ended up with such sunny, fair looks, the quintessential blonde-haired, blue-eyed cheerleader type, while her brother carried dark hair and sexy green eyes so well.

  “How are you doing, Emma? I heard about the fire. What a horrible thing to happen.” A frown brought a small vee between Maddy’s eyebrows. “I hope it doesn’t make you want to leave. I know I’d be scared.”

  Emma gave a half shrug. “I guess I should be, but I’m really not.” She stifled the idea that the reason was perhaps because she trusted B
rad to find out what was going on and to protect her. “I’m staying.”

  “Good.” Maddy beamed at her.

  Emma paid for her order, taking coffee and the cranberry-orange muffin Maddy had tempted her with to the same booth she’d sat in her first morning in Hangman’s Loss.

  She looked up, surprised, when Maddy slid into the seat across the table from her, a large mug of steaming tea in her hand. “I need a break. Do you mind?”

  Emma shook her head and broke off a piece of muffin. “God, this is terrific,” she mumbled, her mouth full.

  Maddy smiled. “They are pretty great. You’ll have to try my berry scones when the blackberries ripen in late summer. They’re the best.”

  “I bet.” Emma sipped her coffee.

  “I’ve had an idea that might help both of us,” she said, leaning forward in her seat. “You see that empty wall over the cream and sugar table?”

  Emma nodded. “Yeah, so?”

  “Well, I want to put a glass-fronted case there. If you had some t-shirts made up with the resort’s logo on them, sent me a couple of photos of the cabins, the kayaks and whatnot, I could display them there. And I could have some brochures in a holder.”

  Emma looked at her expectantly. “That would be great for me, but I don’t see how it helps you.” Now Emma saw the resemblance to Brad. Maddy’s eyes had focused with the same intensity her brother habitually possessed.

  “That’s because that is only part one of the plan. In your check-in office, you could do something similar—have a display that has my menu and the rates for the picnic lunches I sell. I could put together a picnic basket with pretty napkins and a wine bottle to make it appealing. What do you think?”

  Emma chewed her muffin thoughtfully, mind jumping ahead to the possibilities. “That’s a really good idea. There’s a lot of ways we could cross-promote. Let me finish tweaking the logo for the resort. I like the old-fashioned look it currently has so I don’t want to change it too much. I was thinking of having some t-shirts and hats made with the logo. Then maybe we can think of other marketing options.” Maddy’s gaze shifted past Emma’s shoulder and her satisfied smile dimmed. “Great. Here comes the queen,” she muttered.