CHAPTER Seven
Lora’s temples pounded as she stared at Kenton. He stood there, stiff and tall, but not quite meeting her eyes. After last night, after this morning, she sure hadn’t expected this from him.
But he’d told her. So had Hyde.
They didn’t trust her. But they were ready to use her.
“Some killers are very good at deception. They’re good at showing folks exactly what they want them to see.” Special Agent Davenport’s gaze swept the room. “You look, and you don’t see a man who has just torched a house and killed a woman. You don’t see a guy who just burned a handicapped man to death. You see a friend. A coworker.” Her shoulders lifted. “You don’t see the killer until he comes after you.”
Lora’s hands fisted in the towel.
“Chief, come on, you can’t let them—” Max began.
But Frank shook his bald head. “The conference room has been cleared. You guys are up.” His finger stabbed at Max. “Quint, you’re first.”
“Garrison?”
Kenton’s voice halted the chief. Frank glanced back.
“We’re gonna need to talk with you, too.”
Frank’s jaw tightened, but he nodded.
Lora’s jaw dropped. The chief? No damn way. Lora sucked in a breath and marched over to Kenton. He’d turned to speak to Monica, but Lora grabbed his arm. “Did you know about this?” she whispered, glaring up at him. “Last night, did you know?” Because if he’d come to her bed knowing he’d be raking her and her team over the coals today—I’ll rip the guy a new one.
His head moved in a slow shake. “It’s procedure.”
“Fuck procedure.” It was hard to talk when anger boiled in her gut. The others were filing out. Some muttering. “You really think I could have something to do with this?” Lora asked. To think Kenton believed that, after last night… “And the chief? Frank?” Not Frank. He’d been with her through too much. He’d never do something like this.
Lora shoved by Kenton. “Screw off, GQ.”
He grabbed her, hands too tight, and spun her back around. “Lora, it’s procedure,” he gritted out. “I know you’re clear, but the questions have to be asked, and they have to answered, for the record.”
He knew she was clear. That was something, but what about Garrison?
“Ahem.” The chief slammed one ham hand onto Kenton’s shoulder. “Something I should know about here?”
“Yes, sir.” Lora glanced his way. Not the chief. “I had sex with Agent Lake last night. Full disclosure.”
“Lora—” Kenton’s brows shot up. “What the hell—”
“Damn, Spade, I thought you had better taste.” The chief released him and stalked out of the room. “Much better.” He threw the words over his shoulder.
Lora bared her teeth at Kenton. “Me, too.” Then she turned and marched right out after Garrison.
Max Quint slapped his palms down on the table. “Let’s get this shit over with. What do you need? Alibis? Witnesses?” His bushy blond brows rose. “I was working with the team when Charlie Skofield died. I was here when the call came in, surrounded by a dozen men—and Lora. I didn’t set that damn fire, I wouldn’t hurt any of my—”
“Why did you become a firefighter?” Monica asked, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. She had her files already stacked in front of her. That was Monica. Always calm and always organized.
Let’s see what secrets you have.
Monica was good at finding secrets. And hiding her own.
“Huh?” Quint rocked back on the rear legs of the chair. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Monica smiled her harmless smile. The cold one. But then, she didn’t really have a warm one. Not like Lora did—warm enough to singe a man. “Just answer the question.”
He smiled back with a lot of teeth. “I’m an adrenaline junkie. What can I say?” He raised his hands and spread them wide. “I like the thrill of fighting fires.”
Lie. Sure, Kenton knew some fire eaters did the job because they liked the rush, but Max was too cocky right then. The guy just seemed to be putting on a show for them and saying what he thought they wanted to hear.
Max winked. “And the women think I’m sexy as hell in my uniform.” Max shot Kenton a glance from the corner of his eye. “Ask Lora. She’ll tell you. The ladies can’t get enough of me.”
Kenton stared right back at him. Max didn’t blink.
Monica flipped open her file. “Hmmm… an adrenaline junkie? It says here that both your father and grandfather were firefighters. Your dad—he died on the job.” A pause. “Guess they liked the adrenaline, too.”
“My dad was a damn good firefighter!” Max blasted.
Ah, now they were seeing some real emotion from the guy.
“You don’t know how many lives he saved,” Max snarled. “He didn’t give a shit about—”
“Oh?” Her head tilted back. “He didn’t care about the sex and the high from the fires? Not like you, huh?”
His fingers balled into fists.
“How old were you when he died?” Kenton asked, knowing it was time to slide his questions in and divide the guy’s focus.
Max’s head nodded toward the files. “She knows. Let her tell you.”
“You were sixteen,” Monica said.
Max’s jaw worked. “My old man died a hero. A hero. He saved five people from that building on Kurtworth. He made a difference.”
“He did,” she agreed and closed the file. But then Monica reached for another. “But your grandfather… he was another matter, right?”
Max flinched but Monica kept talking. “He started those fires that he fought in New York, didn’t he? The guy went to jail because he was a—what did you call it a few moments ago?”
“Fire freak,” Kenton supplied, watching the guy closely.
“Right,” Monica agreed.
Max’s fists slammed into the table. “I’m nothing like him.”
“Well…” Kenton crossed his arms over his chest and carefully studied the guy. “That’s what we’re here to find out.” Time to cut through the lies.
The door slammed behind Max forty minutes later.
“Making friends left and right,” Kenton muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s not about making friends.” Monica straightened her files. “It’s about saving lives.”
Kenton heard raised voices from the hallway. A distinct “Piss off” came from Max. Exhaling heavily, Kenton said, “My gut tells me that’s not our guy. His alibis are gonna check out, and he’s got too much rage at his grandfather—too much hate for what he did. The last thing he wants is to walk in his footsteps.”
“I think you’re right.” So she pushed his file away. “One down.”
The stack of files was huge. It was going to be a long afternoon. He reached for the next file.
Frank Garrison. Yeah, this one wouldn’t go easily. He rose and walked to the door. He twisted the knob.
Garrison was waiting for Kenton when he opened the door. One of Garrison’s thick brows lifted. “My turn, Special Agent?”
After this much time in the business, Garrison should know the drill. Kenton nodded and stepped back to make room for the chief to enter.
Garrison took his time getting seated. He stretched out his legs and eased back in the chair, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides.
Kenton closed the door and went back to his seat. Monica already had Garrison’s file open.
“I don’t have any secrets,” Garrison said, shrugging. “And I’m not the one you’re looking at for these fires.”
Everyone had secrets. Kenton’s gaze held Garrison’s. “You wanted Lora to bring in the SSD.”
“Lora had a hunch. Her hunches are usually sound.” The deep lines around Garrison’s mouth tightened. “And I didn’t want to run the risk of burying any more of my men.”
Sounded like the truth. Garrison’s gaze was steady and his voice was calm and easy. But Kenton didn’t really think the guy was the calm and easy sort.
Monica’s nail skimmed down the report. “You were the one who gave the order to evacuate at the Skofield scene.” She glanced up at him. “Even though you knew one of your own team members was inside, you told the others to leave Carter behind.”
Garrison’s hands rose only to flatten on the table. Ah, now that relaxed pose was starting to vanish. “Staying in would have risked other lives. I had a job—I had to get them out of there.”
“Lora didn’t listen to your order, did she?” Kenton asked.
Garrison’s breath rasped out. “I thought it was a damn miracle that she managed to get out alive.”
“Shortly after that fire,” Monica said, “you nearly left this station.”
Kenton caught the slight narrowing of Garrison’s eyes. “There were budget cuts.”
“And you were almost forced into early retirement.”
“Almost doesn’t count.” Garrison’s smile held a hard edge. “I’m still here. No one’s taking over my team.”
Interesting. “Do you trust all the men and women here, Chief?” Kenton threw out the question, wondering about the response he’d get.
Garrison’s eyes held his. “I trust them as much as you trust your own team.”
Ah, good answer. No wonder Lora liked the guy so much.
“We’re going to need to verify your whereabouts for the arsons.”
“I was on vacation for the first fire, doing some fishing down in Biloxi.” He shrugged. “For the others, I was here in town. I got to the scenes as fast as I could. Hell, I was on duty for the Skofield arson. I was right there when—” He broke off, swallowing, and he lowered his head.
The moments ticked by in silence before Garrison looked back up at them. “I don’t got a wife. No kids. So I’m not going to have somebody who can step right up and tell you where I was when these damn fires were set.” He leaned toward the table, his body tense. “For thirty years, this job has been my life. The fire has taken me down, but it’s never beat me. I stay here, every day, because this is where I belong. The people here—my team—they’re my family.”
So the station was his life, and he’d almost been kicked out of his only home. Sure would be cause enough to piss off most people.
Garrison stood, and his hands shook a bit. “I’m not the damn arsonist. I wouldn’t put my people at risk. I’d fucking never do that.”
“Perhaps you’re not putting them at risk,” Kenton spoke slowly. He could see the pulse racing just beneath the skin on Garrison’s throat. “I mean, if the firefighters were good enough, they’d save the victims and escape without injury. Maybe it’s not about hurting them. Maybe it’s about testing them.”
Monica leaned forward. “Are they failing your test?”
“They’re my team! I wouldn’t, I—”
“Since the arsons started in your area, there has been no more talk of budget cuts, right?” Kenton saw the chief’s face redden when he asked the question.
“Folks just realized they needed us,” Garrison snapped out the words.
“Guess they just needed a little fire to remind them,” Monica said, her voice quiet.
Two hours later, Kenton and Monica had worked their way through most of the firefighters at the Bringham station. They’d gotten some answers, some suspicions, and a lot of angry door slamming.
“Why don’t you… ah… let me handle the next one alone?” she asked.
Christ. He’d wondered when they’d get to her. “Lora?”
A nod.
Kenton stalked across the room and yanked open the door. “No, I can do my damn job.” The hallway was clear now as he marched forward, rounded the corner, and nearly collided with Max. “I need Lora.”
Max’s blue eyes narrowed. “I’m not a killer.”
“Neither am I.” Lora’s voice. She stepped into the hallway. “But I guess I’m up, huh?”
She’d changed and put on a light blue T-shirt with a firefighter’s logo on the right pocket. She wore a pair of slim black pants, pants that hugged her thighs. He averted his gaze. “Just a few questions…”
“Right.” She brushed past him. “And when will you guys go after the real killer?”
Ah, hit. The woman was good at taking her shots. If he didn’t watch it, he’d be as bruised as Max.
Luke followed her into the room and shut the door with a soft click.
“This is cozy,” Lora murmured and eyed the files. “Let me guess, my whole life is in one of them, right?” She glanced his way. “Know all my dirty secrets, yet?”
His lips pressed together.
Lora used her foot to yank out a chair, and she sat down, crossing her arms over her chest.
Oh, yeah. That cold shoulder was frigid. Sometimes doing his job could be a real bitch.
“So…” Lora drawled, “is this where you ask me where I was when the fires started? Because I can tell you that, easy. I was working, right here at the station, when those calls came in. Well, except for the fire that took that last poor bastard at the drug house on Byron, and the chief can back me up—”
“I’m sure he can.” Monica’s fingers hovered over the file, and she shot a quick glance his way. What? Did the woman really think he was going to cut out?
No way. He crossed his arms and stared down at them from his position near the table. Lora might be pissed as hell at him, but he wasn’t leaving her.
They’d both suffer through it.
Monica cleared her throat with a delicate little cough. “Have you observed any unusual behavior here at the station? Any guys seem preoccupied? Maybe depressed?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You’re not the killer.” Absolute certainty from Monica. “Kenton and I both know it. He said it before we even came down here, before I even got…” Her nails tapped on the manila folder. “Your file.”
Lora’s gaze jumped back to him. “Good to know, GQ.”
Hadn’t he told her that already? He stepped forward.
“But I’m thinking you’re a real observant woman, Ms. Spade.” Monica gave her a smile. “I’m observant, too. I notice things about people. It’s what I’m good at.”
“Good for you.”
Kenton coughed, his not quite as delicate-sounding as Monica’s.
Another tap against the file. “I noticed right away that this case was very personal for you. You want revenge.” Monica paused. “You don’t just want the killer stopped, do you? You want him to pay.”
“Innocent people died.” Lora gave a little shrug. “Payback can be a painful bitch. Just the way life is.”
“Since you want him stopped so badly, I know you’ll help us in any way you can with the investigation.” Monica was very smooth.
“I have been helping. I stopped waiting on Seth to dick around with these fires. I got your asses down here. I took GQ to the crime scenes—”
“And now you’ll tell us what you’ve seen, right? Tell us if you’ve observed anything odd from the guys in the station? Because that would really help, Lora. It would help a lot.”
Lora’s eyes couldn’t narrow much more. “I do love to be a helper.”
Kenton grabbed a chair, flipped it around, straddled it and locked her in his sights. “I’m an asshole.”
Couldn’t get much blunter than that.
“Kenton…” Monica began, her finger no longer tapping.
“Yes, you are.” Lora assured him at the same moment. Ah, so much fire there.
He smiled. “But I’m good at my job. And you’re pissed, I know you’re pissed, but I also know that you understand what we’re doing. You don’t like us being here, questioning your friends, but you know we have to do it. You wanted us to investigate this perp, and that’s what we’re doing. We’re following all the leads, even the ones that might make you uncomfortable.”
Oh, but when this day was over, he damn well hoped that she’d let him back into her good graces. And into her bed.
She exhaled, and her shoulders relaxed a bit. The routine might piss her off, but she understood the way cases were worked. “You could have tried asking us to all give statements. Not telling us that we had to come in here for a grilling.”
He held her gaze. Earlier, he’d been afraid to meet that stare. Too nervous—so much for being the big, bad agent—about what he’d see. Because he liked to see need in Lora’s gaze. Lust. Interest.
Not anger. Not coming at him.
“I’m not real big on finesse.”
“Bullshit.” Lora’s lips twisted. “You’re fine at finesse. Better than fine. You’re trying to finesse me now. You’re a manipulator, GQ. You do whatever you have to do in order to get what you want.”
True. “I want to catch the killer. Same as you.” He was about to get singed by that anger.
“Dammit, I–I know.” Lora’s gaze darted between him and Monica. “But your techniques are shit, got me?”
Loud and clear.
“It’s not my guys, or Amanda,” she said, and he knew she was talking about the other woman he’d seen in the workout room. “Look, Rick’s depressed—his wife left him and took the kids. Max is pissed. He’s just as angry as I am—and trust me, I’ve got a whole lot of anger—because he buried his friend. We’re all upset, all hurting because of what happened to Carter.”
“Is there any guy that’s a loner? Anyone who doesn’t join in—”
“Yeah, me. Hell, even the newbie, Wade, is friendlier than me. Ask anyone.”
“Wade Copeland.” Monica gave a nod. “That’d be the probationary firefighter, hired—”
“A few weeks back. Chief can tell you.” The scratch on her cheek was better today. He hadn’t even thought about any bruises or scratches last night.
Though he was pretty sure she’d given him a few.
“So this is the deal? You’re pressing us all, getting us to spill station gossip so you can see which suspect shakes loose?” Lora’s brows climbed. “And here I was thinking an interrogation from the SSD would be trickier.”
“Not everyone gets the same questions,” Monica murmured. “And trust me, sometimes the questions get much harder.”
And Kenton was struck by the two women. Complete opposites, not just physically.
Monica—pretty and poised, with dark hair, an almost perfect black. Calm, controlled, with icy blue eyes.
Lora—sexy but tense, with short, thick blond hair, wild. With those golden eyes that could scorch a man if he wasn’t careful.
Kenton was trying really hard to be careful.
Monica offered Lora a faint smile as she asked, “How long have you known Frank Garrison?”
Lora’s whole body tensed. “Almost twenty years. And believe me, you’re way off base with him. Garrison is not the one you—”
“He was almost pushed into early retirement earlier this year, wasn’t he?” Kenton asked.
Lora slanted those golden eyes his way. “There were cutbacks, but luckily the brass realized that we couldn’t afford to lose someone like him.”
“I bet Garrison didn’t like the idea that he’d be pushed out of his station,” Monica murmured.
“No.” Clipped. “He didn’t like it all.” One brow lifted. “And I’m sure he told you just that very fact when you interviewed him. Garrison doesn’t believe in bullshitting.”
Lora’s gaze centered on Monica. “I think I was wrong,” she told Monica, studying the other woman carefully. “I think you know just how to lead your suspects, how to press buttons, and how to get right under the skin.”
Monica stared right back at her. “Tell me, Lora, why did you become a firefighter?”
Lora’s hands flew across the table, and she snatched the file away from the agent in a blink. “Isn’t that in here? Isn’t everything in here?”
Yeah, it was.
Lora’s voice stayed low and hot as she fired back, “Isn’t this little talk more about you watching us, observing, seeing our reactions up close and personal so you can decide who might be the weak link here? Who just might be verging on the edge of crazy?”
Monica didn’t make a grab for the file but just watched Lora. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Tell me, have you danced with crazy lately?”
Kenton tensed. What the—
Lora laughed and tossed the file onto the tabletop. “Every single night. That’s what happens when you pull someone you love from the fire, and you watch them die. When you can’t do a thing but watch.”
Monica’s face went blank.
Lora inched in closer. “What about you, Special Agent Davenport? Have you ‘danced’ real close with crazy?” she whispered. “ ’Cause something tells me that you’ve done it more than me.”
Holy shit—Monica flinched.
Lora shoved away from the table. “I’m done here.”
And he watched the fine sway of her ass as Lora stormed out.
Silence. Then Monica turned to stare at him. “Better be careful with her,” she said with a bit of admiration. “That’s a lot of fury there.”
“You know she’s torn up about Carter.” Kenton kept his voice even with an effort. It had been six months, but the rage still burned bright for Lora.
He might be getting her body, but it looked as if Lora’s heart belonged to a dead man.
Monica shook her head. “I don’t think she was talking about Carter.” She lifted the file. “The SSD’s report came in on Lora and all the firefighters at this station.” Monica gave a little shrug. “The killer is targeting them for a reason, you know. This city, these firefighters, this station… there’s a link, somewhere.”
He knew it. The perp had a target zone for his kills—a zone that wrapped all the fires up and had them locked to station eleven on Bringham Boulevard.
Kenton stared at the file. He’d read a preliminary file on Lora before, but not the newest data from the SSD. His fingers flexed, and he remembered touching smooth skin. Soft, like satin.
Smooth skin, then—
The rough line of scars that ripped across the base of her spine.
Blue eyes stared back at him. “What do you know?” Monica asked.
He exhaled on a long sigh. “She was hurt. A long time ago, probably in a fire.” This hadn’t been in the first report, but he’d learned that secret in the darkness.
“Yes, she was thirteen.”
So young. Hard to imagine Lora young like that.
Before the fire.
“The flames spread at her house, too fast. She was hurt. Her brother—the fire caught him, burned over 60 percent of his body. The doctors didn’t think he’d make it, and her dad, well, he only lived a few seconds after getting pulled out of the house. He died right in front of her.”
And all you can do is watch.
Sonofabitch.
He spun away and yanked open the door. “Lora!”