Читать книгу Melting Point - Debra Cowan - Страница 10
Chapter 3
ОглавлениеOn Monday afternoon Collier left the fire investigator’s office early to attend Dan Lazano’s wake. Not just out of obligation to a fellow firefighter, but also because he had come darn close to being in that casket himself.
Lazano’s parents hosted the gathering at their modest brick home in northwest Oklahoma City. Collier stepped through the front door and scanned the people overflowing from the spacious living room into the dining room. He managed to make his way through the throng of firefighters, paramedics and city officials to Tony and Simone Lazano and offer his condolences on the loss of their son.
Collier might have resented Dan for what he and Gwen had done, but he hadn’t hated the guy. Not anymore, despite what Kiley Russell thought.
Thinking about his curvy new partner lit off a spark of irritation. Partnering up with her gnawed at him, but he figured it gnawed at her just as much. He’d seen that flare of panic in her eyes last night when he’d delivered the news about Terra having her baby before either of them had expected her to.
He wanted to believe it was the challenge of Kiley’s back-off attitude that put a kick in his blood, but everything about her from that sexy tangle of red hair to those luscious long legs charged him up. If she were any other woman, he would take her to bed and get her out of his system, but the redhead set off high-powered warnings in his head, and he’d learned the hard way to listen.
If he’d paid attention to those doubts about Gwen, things between them would never have gone as far as they had. Or gotten so ugly.
At a table draped with a white cloth, on the far wall of the dining room, he filled a cup of coffee and turned, searching the crowd. Shelby Fox, a former station mate, raised her cup, and he nodded at the slender brunette. A flash of red hair behind her caught his attention, and his eyes narrowed as Detective Russell let herself in the front door, then spoke to an older gentleman standing nearby.
She sure didn’t let any grass grow under her feet. No doubt she was here to work the crowd, see if she could learn anything about Lazano. The fact that she was doing her job shouldn’t have irritated Collier, but it did. And when she shrugged out of her heavy black coat and revealed the simple black dress beneath, his irritation edged into something else. Something hot and reckless.
Her hair was down today but pulled away from her face, the thick mass brushing her shoulders. It was the dress that had his grip tightening on the delicate china cup. The soft-looking, midnight fabric skimmed over every curve, accentuating her full breasts and trim waist. The hem fell just below her knees, and the legs encased in sheer black hose were the best Collier had ever seen. He couldn’t resist mentally following the line back up beneath her dress.
“Oh, hell,” he muttered, gulping at his coffee, then wincing when he burned his tongue.
“Pretty hot stuff, McClain.” Shelby Fox had made her way over and stood at his elbow.
“Huh?” There was no way she could’ve known he was looking at—lusting after—Kiley Russell.
She gave him an odd smile. “The coffee? I blistered my mouth a minute ago.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He’d already established he wanted Kiley Russell, but why did his chest always tighten when he saw her? Just like it had the night they’d danced at the Christmas party. He didn’t know, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to figure it out.
“Word is you could’ve been the one to buy the farm instead of Lazano,” Shelby said soberly.
“Yeah. It was too close.”
“Glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks.”
They sipped their hot drinks and spoke to other firefighters who stopped at the table for coffee or tea and sandwiches that had been cut into quarters.
Shelby reached across the table behind him and plopped a sugar cube into her cup. “How’s your first day on the new job, Investigator McClain?”
“I’ve spent most of it doing paperwork for the Personnel Department.”
The brunette shifted to make room for Jerry French, a veteran firefighter from Station One. “Anything on that warehouse fire yet, or any leads on Lazano’s murder?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
French jerked at his tie. “You got thrown right into the middle of a big humdinger, didn’t you? You been up to the hospital yet to see Terra and her baby girl?”
“I went early this morning,” Collier said. “But she was asleep and so was Jack. I’ll try again later.”
“Did she have to have a C-section?” Shelby asked. “One of the guys was talking about it.”
Collier nodded. “I think it took her and Jack by surprise, but I heard everyone was doing well.”
Talking about Terra reminded him of his new partner, but he didn’t see Kiley anywhere. Where had she gone? That instant last night when he’d had his hand on her shot through his memory. As much as he hated it, he wasn’t going to lie to himself about the electricity that arced between them. They struck sparks off each other, and he wanted to find out just how long they would burn, but he knew better than to explore it.
Something about Kiley warned him that she wouldn’t be that easy to walk away from. And walking away from women was what he did ever since his engagement to Gwen Hadley had gone to hell. He’d bought into the true-love thing once, and he was done. For good.
The detective’s wariness around him said she had learned the same hard lesson. He wasn’t going to follow up on the slow sizzle that had started in his blood the minute he’d held her at that Christmas dance. And he instinctively knew she wouldn’t, either.
They could work together and get the job done, then go their separate ways. Her slightly awkward manner the night before at his house was proof she wanted the same thing.
They were both professionals. Regardless of the searing current that seemed to zap him whenever he was within a foot of the red-haired detective, Collier intended to do his job. He wanted to make a good impression, especially on his first solo case. All he had to do was concentrate on the investigation, and that annoying awareness he felt around Kiley would disappear. Pretty soon he wouldn’t feel anything different for her than he felt for any other co-worker.
“I didn’t know if she’d be here or not,” Shelby murmured.
Collier followed her gaze across the living room and saw Gwen, who spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Lazano before she melted into the crowd. “Why not?”
“She and Dan broke things off about two weeks ago.”
He nodded. He’d heard about Dan and Gwen’s breakup, but the other firefighters didn’t often discuss the pair around him.
“Lazano couldn’t take her drinking anymore,” Shelby said.
Collier gave her a sharp look. “Had it gotten that bad?”
“That’s what I heard.”
He probed the crowded room for Kiley, wondering who she was talking to, if she had learned anything new about Lazano. His gaze shifted back to the corner he’d just scanned.
She stood there huddled next to a coat closet talking to Gwen. She hadn’t told him she planned to interview his ex, but he could tell by the intent way she listened that interviewing was exactly what she was doing. And she’d left him out of the loop. No doubt his name had come up at least once. The whole idea of the two women talking about him made Collier queasy. He started for them, wondering who had identified Gwen to Kiley as his ex.
As he walked up, he heard Kiley say, “Thanks for your time. If I have any other questions, I’ll be in touch.”
“We’ll probably both be in touch,” he said as much for her benefit as Gwen’s.
His ex pivoted to face him. “Oh, Collier. Hello.”
Her greeting was subdued, as was her makeup and clothing. Subdued for Gwen, anyway. She was pale, her brown eyes red and swollen from crying. The black, long-sleeved sheath she wore could’ve been painted on her slender frame. Next to Kiley Russell’s vibrant coloring and personality, his former fiancée seemed almost bland.
He had expected to feel at least a twinge of his old anger toward the blonde, but instead he felt sorry for her. She looked uncertain and troubled.
“Why would you need to talk to me, too?” she asked.
“I just transferred into the fire investigator’s office.”
“I didn’t know.” She stepped closer, her gaze locked on his.
He shifted back until his heel bumped the wall. “This is my first official case.”
“I thought the police investigated mur—things like this.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
“Since this was a murder at a fire scene, the police and fire departments work together.” He gave Kiley a pointed look over Gwen’s head.
His ex nodded, though Collier wasn’t sure she really registered his words. Kiley stood quietly to the side, studying him with the intensity of a bird dog on point.
Gwen crumpled her tissue into a ball. “This is just awful, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She reached out and touched his arm. “Can we talk later?”
“About Lazano?”
“No.”
The plea in her eyes said she wanted to talk about them, but they were finished. He’d never felt it with such finality. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wasn’t interested. “If you think of anything else about Lazano, we need to know.”
Gwen’s face crumpled and tears welled in her eyes. “Collier, I’m so sorry. For everything.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Feeling caged, he pulled a handkerchief out of his suit coat and pressed it into her hand. “This is a bad day for everyone. Don’t beat yourself up, Gwen.”
He turned and caught Shelby’s eye, motioning her over. “Let Shelby take you to your car.”
Gwen studied him for a moment, resignation finally crossing her features. She turned to Kiley. “I hope I helped.”
“You did. Thanks.” Kiley smiled.
Collier watched as Shelby guided Gwen through the crowd and toward the front door. From the corner of his eye, he caught Kiley moving away, too.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He snagged her elbow and pulled her back.
“Watch it, McClain.”
“You watch it,” he said in a low voice, turning so he could block her escape with his body. “Leaving me out of the loop like that could be construed as breaking procedure. Why did you do it?”
“I’m in the clear on this.” She pulled away from his hold, though she stayed with her back pressed against the wall. “I figured your name would come up when I talked to your ex. She was more likely to give me honest answers without you around.”
Someone squeezed behind him, and he leaned closer to her, teased by her soft scent. “So what did Gwen tell you? And don’t leave anything out.”
“I think she’s still hung up on you.”
Collier rubbed the nape of his neck. “She’s just confused. Why interview her here, anyway?”
“I tried to talk to her last night, but she only returned a few hours ago from a ski trip in Colorado. She agreed to talk to me here.”
“So, she knew about Lazano’s murder?”
“Her mom called and told her.” Kiley watched him carefully.
“Did you ask her about the last time she saw him?”
“She said it was two weeks ago, the night they called it quits.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“I’m wondering if her memory’s reliable. She told me she has a drinking problem.”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think?” Kiley pressed. “Is she reliable?”
“I don’t know. She was at one time.”
She paused, her blue-green eyes meeting his. “Were you ever going to tell me your ex-fiancée’s name?”
“If you’d asked me, I would have.” He hadn’t wanted to tell her as much as he already had. “Does knowing who she is have anything to do with our investigation, Detective?” He lowered his voice, trying to rattle her. “Or are you asking for personal reasons?”
He was surprised to see a dull flush color her cheeks.
She shrugged. “Just connecting the dots.”
“You obviously would’ve figured it out when you learned she was Lazano’s ex, too.”
“I realize his murder is even more personal to you than the others because of Miss Hadley. Are you going to have a problem working this case?”
“It’s not like there’s any choice.” He wanted her to shut up about this whole thread of conversation. “Terra’s out on maternity leave. It’s you and me. The end.”
“So you can put aside your personal feel—”
“Yes,” he bit out. Collier’s usually even temper spiked. “If there’s a screw up, Russell, it won’t be because of me.”
She searched his eyes, then nodded. “Okay. Well, I want to check Gwen’s alibi for the night Lazano was killed and make sure she was really in Colorado like she said.”
“I can make some calls.”
“I will.”
“You can’t cut me out of everything.”
She eyed him coolly. “All right, you do it.”
“Done.” He wondered if things would always be so prickly with her. “On the way here, I stopped at each station house to show the picture of the fake firefighter.”
“Wow, the lab got to that really fast.”
He nodded. “Your copy is in my truck.”
“Did anyone recognize the guy?”
“No. Station One did tell me that some of their gear turned up missing in late September.”
“So that would coincide with when these fire murders started. Too bad we can’t find Mr. Fake in any of the earlier fire scene videos.” She brushed her hair over her shoulder.
Just once he’d like to get his hands in those red curls. “I can give you that photo print before we leave.”
“Great. Want to meet me outside in about fifteen minutes?”
“It’s a date,” he said.
“No—”
“Figure of speech, Russell. Don’t get your hopes up.”
Her eyes flashed. “You’re safe, McClain. Completely safe.”
He watched her walk away, totally hypnotized by the length of those legs and tried to remember why safe was what he wanted.
About seven-thirty the next evening, Kiley walked through the glass doors of Presley’s two-story community center. She’d been ordered by Lt. Hager to attend tonight’s dedication and grand unveiling of the new facility.
Though not fancy, the gray tiled floors were tasteful, as were the faux marble walls. The lobby stretched the length of the rectangular shaped building. Hallways on either side led to several rooms that would serve as meeting places for city employees as well as citizens’ events. The upper floor provided more space. Four sets of doors ahead of her opened into the large all-purpose room being used for tonight’s dedication.
After leaving her coat with a volunteer, she stepped through the nearest set of doors and took in the expansive area decorated with streamers and blue, white and gold balloons. A wooden stage centered at the opposite end of the room held a five-member band tuning their instruments. A cash bar was set up in the corner close to the stage.
The mayor, various city councilmen and women, and other city leaders strolled around. Kiley glimpsed the governor deep in conversation with Chief of Police Nick Smith. She spoke to several police officers who had shown up because they’d gotten the same memo she had from Lt. Hager. As she moved through the crowd, she recognized a few firefighters, too. All the men were dressed in suits or uniforms. The women sparkled in dressy, after-five attire. A tall blonde in a tight, black sequined dress cut down to there caught Kiley’s attention.
She had to look twice to make sure the woman wasn’t Gwen Hadley. The relief she felt reminded her of the earlier meeting with Collier’s former fiancée. Kiley typically didn’t feel out of her league with either men or women, but standing next to Gwen at that wake had made her feel invisible. The woman had flawless skin and a flawless figure, but she obviously had her share of problems, too. Kiley felt more sure of herself now, but she was still less steady than she liked around Presley’s newest fire investigator.
It was because of the emotion she’d seen in his eyes yesterday as he’d talked to his ex. The momentary flash of old hurt on his face had tapped at something deep inside Kiley. Gwen had made it clear she wanted to talk to Collier in private, but he had kindly refused. He’d probably been more kind than Kiley would’ve been if their roles were reversed.
The image of a solicitous Collier McClain certainly didn’t match that of the footloose bachelor she had heard about or seen at the Christmas dance. She told herself to forget about that emotion in his eyes, but for a brief period, she’d glimpsed the man. Not the fire investigator or the reputed Romeo, but a man who’d been hurt by a woman. She pushed away the thought. Emotions—his and hers—came a distant second to the business she needed to conduct with Collier. And business was all she cared about.
They had gotten no identification from the photo of the fake fireman, and they had spent the morning looking at mugshots. No luck there, either. They had begun sending e-mails and faxes to a list of surrounding prisons in Oklahoma, Texas and Louisiana, asking if any of them had recently released an arsonist.
Kiley’s afternoon had been taken up in court waiting to testify on a burglary arrest, and Collier had offered to finish sending the queries to the prisons. She hadn’t heard from him since before lunch when he’d told her Gwen Hadley’s alibi was solid. She wondered if he had learned anything new.
She expected he would be at tonight’s dedication, representing the fire investigator’s office in Terra’s absence. After Kiley spoke to Chief Smith and exchanged a few words with Lt. Hager and his wife, she made her way to the cash bar and ordered a ginger ale.
Despite the freezing temperatures outdoors and the veed back of her dress, the crowd of people inside kept her more than warm. It didn’t take long to spot Collier dancing in the center of the carpeted room. He wasn’t the tallest man here, so why had her gaze gone straight to him as if reeled there?
She should go ask him if he had any new information, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand near the stream of women who kept asking him to dance. In a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and muted red tie, he looked distinguished and commanding. He was clean shaven, the overhead light blunting the sharp angles of his jaw-and cheekbones, and still his appearance was rugged. She’d thought him blatantly male in his turnout gear, but the effect tonight was devastating. She could appreciate a gorgeous man even if she didn’t want him.
Recalling the bare chest she’d seen at his house, she knew the broad shoulders beneath that jacket were every bit real and not an illusion created by good tailoring.
Kiley hated these types of events, where she had to dress to the nines and schmooze with city officials. She would much rather be talking to the residents of Presley, for whom this center had been built, but Collier looked at ease as he chatted with members of city government who danced past him.
Watching him move on and off the dance floor with obscene regularity, Kiley saw no trace of the wounded man from yesterday. Just the heartbreaker she’d heard about, the one she planned to avoid. As a high-tempo dance song ended, he escorted Shelby Fox off the floor, and the pair joined a group in a corner that included Kiley’s sister, Kristin.
Deciding she’d rather talk to him in a crowd as opposed to alone, Kiley made her way toward the corner. She recognized Clay Jessup, the lanky cop who stood between her sister and Shelby, but the man to her sister’s left was unfamiliar. Kristin’s hair was the same dark gold as their mother’s, with enough wave to coax it into whatever style she wanted. Tonight she wore it down and loose, just as Kiley did. The fluttery white blouse she had paired with Kiley’s long black satin skirt was as dressy as the bronze knee-length dress Kiley had chosen.
More than one guy had asked Kristin to dance, but Kiley noted Collier hadn’t. Probably because he’d been too busy dancing with everyone else.
She walked up to the edge of the group, and her sister smiled. “Hi, Ki.”
“Hello.”
Kristin pulled her into the circle. “Does everyone know my sister?”
“Hey, Russell.” Clay Jessup smiled and Shelby waved.
Kiley and Clay had gone through the police academy together, and she knew Shelby because the woman was one of Clay’s closest friends. Kristin introduced Trey Vance, a computer technician from her office.
Kiley felt Collier’s gaze burning her skin and finally met his eyes. “Hello, McClain.”
“Detective.” His gaze skated over her body, and reaction clenched her belly.
Why, why, why did she have to feel anything? Determined to ignore the drumming pull of awareness she felt, she started to move next to him and ask if they’d had any responses yet from the prisons. Someone tapped on the microphone situated on the small stage a few feet away, and she paused.
After a few seconds of screeching feedback, Mayor Griffin greeted everyone and encouraged applause for the band as its members left the stage for a break. The mayor then invited everyone’s attention to the newly completed building and this spacious room, which would host community events such as senior citizen exercise classes or the citizens’ police academy.
The shiny wooden stage steps were trimmed with the same blue-and-gray flecked carpet that covered the floor and complemented the blue walls. The large space, which could be partitioned off to make four rooms, sparkled with the shine of newness. After a few moments the mayor introduced everyone who had worked on the community center’s planning committee.
When he introduced prominent criminal defense attorney Raye Ballinger, Trey Vance said, loud enough for their small circle, “I can’t believe they let her serve on the committee. The best thing the ‘Ball Basher’ could do for Presley would be to leave.”
Mayor Griffin turned the program over to Raye for her comments, and Kiley grimaced, unsure about what to expect from the woman. She’d had dealings with the dogged attorney in court.
Raye Ballinger was dressed to kill in a dramatic off-the-shoulder black-and-white gown with black elbow-length gloves. Her blond hair was piled atop her head; light caught the sparkling necklace and matching earrings she wore. From what Kiley had heard, the attorney earned enough to afford real diamonds.
“The city probably paid for those earrings and that necklace,” Kristin said behind her.
“We’re probably still paying.” Trey’s voice was low. “You know, her brother committed suicide several months back. Everyone expected her to sue the city, and sure enough, she instigated a lawsuit last month.”
Raye Ballinger had also brought a suit against Presley about three years ago for a policeman who said he’d been fired unfairly. She had intimidated every witness she could, and Kiley had the scars to prove it. She hadn’t folded under the lawyer’s sharklike attack, but others had. The woman was relentless to the point of cruelty, and Kiley had never liked her.
It appeared no one in this small circle did, either. Raye had once ripped Kiley to shreds on the witness stand during a rape case. She hated to think what the woman might have done if they’d been alone.
“If that lawsuit gets to court, there’s no justice,” Clay Jessup said to Collier.
Kiley glanced over at the two men. “What happened with her brother?”
“Last spring—April, I think—we got a call about a house fire,” Collier said. “Three stations responded and were able to get to the guy by using the ladder, but as they climbed down, he took a dive. It was Ballinger’s brother.”
“I remember.” She thought back to the coverage, done to the point of saturation, by local television stations as well as Presley’s and Oklahoma City’s newspapers. “It was pretty awful.”
“I guess the scene turned ugly,” Jessup said. “Shelby said Ballinger went ballistic, blaming everyone around.”
“She talked to the mayor right after it happened.” Kristin tucked her hair behind her ear. “But no one heard anything else until she filed the lawsuit.”
Collier shook his head. “I don’t see that she has grounds. Jamie Ballinger tried to kill himself by torching that house, and when that didn’t work, he jumped from the ladder. Everyone did their jobs. There was no negligence.”
“Well,” Clay said. “Skip Dickens was a known drunk with DUIs on record, and she got him reinstated, plus his back pay and a two-million-dollar settlement out of Presley.”
His reminder about the policeman Raye Ballinger had represented came as the lawyer finished her remarks. Applause swelled throughout the large room.
Kiley watched as the woman stepped down from the stage and moved through the crowd, stopping here and there to speak to people. She had a reputation for disliking cops. Evidently, hose draggers were on her list, too.
Clay asked Kristin to dance and the pair moved to the center of the room. Trey and Shelby followed.
“Looks like we’re alone at last,” Collier drawled with a twinkle in his eye that said he knew he made Kiley jumpy.