Читать книгу Melting Point - Debra Cowan - Страница 9

Collier had wanted to be first on the nozzle tonight, but nothing about this call had gone the way he’d wanted. Not what had happened to Lazano. And not seeing Kiley Russell.

Collier hadn’t allowed himself to think about her since that Christmas party at the FOP club. Then tonight, on the second day of the new year, she’d burst in front of him like a firecracker.

In the month since meeting her, he hadn’t forgotten the curve of her hip beneath his palm as they’d danced. Or the warm, spicy fragrance of fresh woman and body heat.

Kiley Russell wasn’t conventionally beautiful like Gwen, but he wasn’t the only man who couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her tangle of red hair hinted at a wildness that was banked in her eyes. Creamy skin and rosy cheeks gave her a fresh-faced appeal that invited people to like her even though Collier sensed that if she decided to seduce a man, those stunning blue-green eyes could knock him clear into next week.

What really had Collier’s internal alarm screaming was the memory of Detective Russell’s laugh. Low and smoky, the sound had grabbed at something deep inside, telling him that his attraction to her was more than physical. He’d managed to bury all that over the holidays, but seeing her now brought the memories bubbling to the surface. Memories he had no intention of giving free rein.

In the year and a half since he’d called off his engagement to Gwen, Collier hadn’t regretted his new no-strings policy with women. He didn’t like that Kiley Russell was the first woman to make him think about breaking it. Liked even less that his thoughts were on her instead of the crime scene in which they stood.

“Since we can’t take measurements of the body’s original position,” Terra said, “we’ll have to rely on the Rapid Intervention Team and any other eyewitness accounts to determine where Lazano fell.”

Kiley stepped up, pointing to a spot in front of the open doorway. “The RIT put Lazano here.”

“That’s right. And so did the attack crew who took over for me and Lazano.” Collier turned, his gaze skipping over the puddles of black water on Benson Street. “The shot came from behind. Probably from that warehouse across the street.”

Kiley made a note in her notebook.

Standing on the edge of the bright light thrown by the portable floodlamps, Collier walked to the bloodstain barely visible on the wet concrete and dictated the location into Terra’s handheld tape recorder.

“I’m surprised all the blood wasn’t washed away,” Kiley observed, following the other woman into the warehouse. “I guess it would be too much to hope we might get some prints off this door? I’m guessing the firefighters probably blasted them off with their hoses.”

“We’re trained to put out the fire, which means we can’t really worry about preserving evidence,” Collier said from behind her. “To put out a blaze, you’ve got to chop holes in the roof, tear down walls, kick out windows plus soak everything in thousands of gallons of water. Even so, we’re trained not to get carried away with our water streams. We douse the flames and make sure they don’t rekindle. And we typically use a wide spray pattern, like a fog. If that doesn’t work, we have to use a small spray, so a straight stream could’ve destroyed that evidence.”

“You’re both assuming there were prints to begin with,” Terra said as they paused shoulder to shoulder in a small huddle.

Kiley slid a look at Collier. “What about the heat? Would it compromise a fingerprint?”

“Prints can be tricky. Most people believe fire destroys all evidence, but that’s not true. It would take hot, hot temperatures to distort or destroy a print. From the condition of the wood pallets, I don’t think the fire burned long enough to get that hot. The door is barely discolored.” He pointed over his head to a steel beam with dark streaks. “None of the steel up there is melted, though it is discolored and marked. The melting point for steel is 2500 degrees.”

“So a twenty-minute fire wouldn’t normally be hot enough or long burning enough to melt the I-beams?”

“Not unless there were flammable liquids or explosives, something to help it along.”

“What accelerant do you think was used?”

“Maybe none. That’s something we need to find out.” He studied the steel beams supporting the apex of the roof. “It doesn’t appear the fire got hot enough or high enough back here to melt the steel.”

“Just some of the aluminum walls.” Terra pointed to some damaged sheeting.

Kiley scribbled in her notebook. “So what does that tell you?”

Terra looked at Collier expectantly, so he said, “That the fire temperature on the walls was less than 660 degrees and that whatever reached the ceiling probably burned less than a thousand.”

The detective nodded and made another note.

“First, we’ll try to confirm or eliminate arson,” Terra explained over her shoulder.

Collier added, “Part of that process will be checking the electrical wiring.”

Kiley resettled her helmet. “So, all we know at this point is that Dan Lazano was murdered.”

“Right,” Collier said. “It was definitely not suicide.” Suicide was one manner of death that had to be eliminated in the course of an investigation. Given he was an eye witness, Collier could do that with confidence. He still couldn’t believe Lazano was dead. And how close he had come to being a victim himself.

“I’m sure you’ve both already taken note that this is our second victim from Station Two.” Terra stopped a few feet away, her pretty features grim. “It’s the first time that’s happened.”

“Since the first two firefighters worked out of different stations,” Collier said, “the connection is not that the victims worked out of the same house. I’ll be interested to see if any of our previous interviews turn up on the list again.”

“Let’s get busy,” Terra interrupted, “and see what we can find.”

“Lead the way,” Kiley said.

To ward off the smoke headache already pulsing at the base of his skull, Collier downed several ibuprofen without water and passed a few to her. She took them and slid them into her pocket. He mentally shrugged. Maybe she didn’t get smoke headaches from tromping around fire scenes.

He flexed his hands inside the pair of stiff gloves Terra had loaned him. At Russell’s request, his well-used gloves, stained with Lazano’s blood, were now bagged as evidence outside with another cop. The three of them worked their way from the least amount of damage to the worst.

Terra snapped pictures from several angles and Collier dictated information about their position and observations into her recorder. In his other hand, he carried a shovel and her tackle box. They stopped frequently, shoveling ashes and debris, searching for evidence.

Over the past eighteen months, he’d built his own tool kit, which included every kind of tool from pliers and tape measures to hacksaws and hammers. For evidence gathering, he carried sterile paint cans, paper and plastic bags and a couple of small jars for liquids. Since he’d been on his last firefighting shift tonight and his new job wasn’t supposed to officially begin until Monday, he was without his kit.

Lazano’s murder had moved up Collier’s start date…and teamed him with a woman he would rather avoid. As a fire investigator, he had the authority to interview and interrogate but not to arrest or serve warrants like Russell did. Because of the policy between the Presley Fire Department and Police Department, he would have to work with Detective Russell until one of them proved the death was an accident or murder. They already knew Lazano’s death hadn’t been a suicide and didn’t believe there was anything accidental about it, so it appeared he would be working with the redhead until they closed these murder cases. Just dandy.

The physical reaction he’d had to Russell during that dance had been warning enough, but combined with the insistent curiosity he felt about her, he had backed way off. And he intended to stay that way.

“I have to hand it to y’all,” Kiley said from behind him. “The amount of patience this takes is incredible.”

Collier shared a look with Terra. She’d had to remind him more than once that investigations took time and patience. He’d had to learn to curb his firefighter’s attack mentality and to carefully, thoroughly, follow the crime trail one step at a time.

He’d wanted to work fire investigations for more than two years, which was why he had readily agreed to apprentice with Terra for no pay. Besides putting him in a good position to nab the promotion to fire investigator when another spot with her office opened up, he’d also taken on the additional and demanding hours as a way to forget about Gwen. And he had.

Another fire investigator hadn’t been approved and budgeted until a few months ago. He’d taken the test, passed his independent assessment and been interviewed by Terra along with another candidate. She had offered the job to him, and the other man had found a job shortly thereafter with Oklahoma City’s fire marshal.

Kiley trailed him through the center of the warehouse, wet grime sucking at her boots. “I remember Terra saying that arsonists typically set fires either for revenge, attention or to hide evidence of another crime. In this case it looks like the fires are being set as bait to attract the firefighters to the scene and kill them.”

Collier turned to her. “I agree.”

“I guess we should consider insurance fraud. If only to show we eliminated that motive.”

“Warehouses are always prime marks for fire insurance fraud,” he admitted.

“It’s possible that one person set the fire for insurance money and that another person murdered Lazano,” Terra offered, rubbing at her lower back again. “But this is too much like the other murders. I think our arsonist and sniper are the same person. And I think we’re dealing with an emotional fire setter as opposed to a pathological one.”

“What’s the difference?” Kiley asked.

“An emotional fire setter strikes out of revenge or hate,” Terra said. “A pathological torch gets off just by setting fires.”

Kiley glanced around the warehouse. “Since we’re dealing with a serial killer who’s using the blaze to bait firefighters, we have an emotional fire setter.”

“It appears that way.” Collier dragged a hand down his face. “So while arson definitely plays a role, we should be looking for someone who has more motive to kill than burn.”

“I think you’re right.” His boss looked as grim as he felt.

Kiley adjusted the too-large helmet on her head. “I’ll check on the warehouse’s insurance policy, anyway, just to cover our bases.”

As they worked their way to the worst burn area, the fire’s origin, Collier documented every step with photos and sketches.

On the east side of the interior, Terra halted in front of him and sniffed the air. “I don’t smell any accelerant. No gasoline, no kerosene, nothing.”

Collier couldn’t smell any, either. Scenting accelerants was a natural ability Terra had that he didn’t, but she had said that didn’t matter. What would make him a good fire investigator wasn’t what he could smell, but what he observed.

Scanning the coffee pallet and metal wall directly in front of him for the “low point” or point of origin, his gaze settled on a blackened circle on the concrete.

Both women walked up beside him. Collier kept his focus on the spot in front of him, concentrating on determining if this fire was arson. Why would a fire start here? There was no heat source, so he could eliminate that the blaze had been accidental. He pointed to a small mound of charred material in the middle of the blackened circle. “This pile of rags is the point of origin. Looks like it may be towels.”

“Let’s take a look at burn patterns on the pallets and coffee bags that burned, the leftover debris here and on the floor, ground, ceiling,” Terra said.

After carefully bagging a fist-size amount of the remaining cloth, he used a small sterile paint can to hold a sample of the charred wooden pallet. Terra took photos of the places where the samples had come from, while Collier indicated the same on the drawing of the fire-sketch layout he’d started for the warehouse.

To be thorough, he also sealed a handful of coffee beans, but he didn’t expect to find that they had absorbed any accelerant. He studied the charred pallet and a ten-inch stretch of black going up the metal wall beside it. He ran a quick test with the portable “sniffer,” a small boxlike instrument that detected carbons like those usually left behind in gasoline or flammable liquids.

Glancing up at Terra, he was aware of Kiley in his peripheral vision. “The readout is negative for any kind of gas or flammable liquids. Right now it looks like the fire started with a match and a bundle of towels.”

“I don’t think the arsonist tried to hide it, either,” his new boss said. “Probably lit this bunch of cloth then waited for the fire alarm to trip.”

“They had probably already scoped out their position across the street.” Kiley glanced toward the front of the building. “And the fire was set close enough to the door for a quick exit.”

“Another sign of arson.” Collier’s stomach tightened at the cold calculation indicated by the scenario they were starting to piece together. Calculation that could’ve killed him this time.

Between that and the redhead behind him, his nerves were stretched taut. He shut the tackle box and rose. “From the obvious placement of the towels, I don’t think the arsonist cares if we figure out how the fire started. The hardest blazes to determine are the ones with a single match and a little thought.”

“All the fires have basically been set in the same way and a rifle used in all four of them.” Terra braced a hand at the small of her back.

“The first fire at the high school gym and this one tonight were started before the shootings,” Kiley observed. “But the fires at the motel and in the victim’s garage were set after the victims were killed. Just to get the firefighters to respond?”

“I’d say yes.”

“Lisa Embry and now Lazano give us two vics from the same station. Miller was with Station Three and Huffman with Four.”

“Going through the first three victims’ shifts at their respective station houses gave us the calls they had in common.” Collier put a new roll of film into his camera. “We’ll check to see if Lazano’s work schedule coincides with theirs.”

“All the murders have occurred within the first week of the month so we should cross-reference those dates with the rescue call dates.” Kiley flipped a page in her notebook. “We still haven’t found anything in the first victim’s background to suggest someone would want to kill him. As for the second victim, we haven’t found the blond woman witnesses say Rex Huffman was last seen with at that motel.”

“What about Lisa Embry’s ex?” The third victim and her husband had gone through a nasty divorce and custody battle. He had ended up with the house and joint custody of the kids.

Kiley’s jaw firmed. “We should talk to him again, ask him where he was tonight.”

Terra picked up the thread. “Kiley and I will continue to work our way down the list of people who have died in fires within the last six months to a year. Or fatalities that occurred when any of these murdered firefighters were on the scene. The killer could be someone who blames the firefighters for the death of a loved one.”

“In the meantime, these guys are a bull’s-eye every time they respond to a call.” Collier couldn’t keep the rage out of his voice. “Just like Russian roulette.”

And he could’ve been one of the victims tonight. The cold knot coiling in his gut was more than nerves. It was a sobering sense of mortality that he hadn’t felt in a lot of years.

“We’ll find this murdering scumbag, Collier,” Terra reassured.

Kiley nodded, watching him with a fierce determination in her eyes and an understanding that made him pause. She pulled her gaze away to stare at the remains of the pallet, wrinkling her nose. “I like coffee, but not that roasted.”

Her remark served to ease the heaviness that had settled over them. Collier smiled and noticed Terra did, too.

“So, how does it work?” Kiley asked. “The towels catch fire, it spreads to a pallet then the coffee bags?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“What about a security alarm? The first patrol officer on the scene said only the fire alarm went off. Why didn’t the security alarm sound?”

“Are we sure they have one?” Collier asked.

“Good question.”

“I imagine they do,” he said, “but we need to make sure. The windows that were shattered were blown outward from heat, not inward as if smashed by someone trying to break in.”

Admiration flared in her eyes. “You’ve picked up a lot, seeing as how you’ve only been able to work with the fire investigator on your days off.”

“After a year and a half,” Terra said, “those days add up. I’m lucky that he wanted the job badly enough to do it.”

“And come Monday, I’ll even get paid for it.” Collier rolled his shoulders against the tautness stretching across his muscles. Russell had a way of looking at him that made him feel as if she were peeling off thin layers of himself that he didn’t want peeled.

He turned away, training his flashlight on the wall of melted aluminum sheeting. He took out his screwdriver and folded back a piece of the warped metal, checking underneath for electrical wires. Even though they believed they’d found the cause of the fire, he would make sure there had been no electrical glitches.

He would like it a lot better if Kiley Russell would move to the other end of the building. Or better yet, leave.

He could feel her behind him and itched to watch her, see how she operated. But he had a job to do and he wasn’t about to screw it up. Especially for a woman.

Kiley had spent the two days since the murder conducting interviews. She, Terra and Collier had split up after the walk-through with the agreement to call each other if they got a lead. Otherwise they would meet at the fire investigator’s office on Monday morning to view the video of the fire scene.

Early Sunday evening, Collier left a message on Kiley’s cell phone while she was asking the owner of Rehn’s warehouse some follow-up questions. He had found something on the videotape of Lazano’s fire scene he thought she and Terra should see.

About an hour after he left the message, she pulled up in front of a quaint rock house and double-checked the address the department secretary had given her. Yes, this charming thirties-style cottage next to an historically registered house was his.

An unfamiliar black Corvette sat at the curb between McClain’s house and his neighbor’s. Terra’s red SUV wasn’t here, and Kiley considered waiting in the car until the other fire investigator arrived. She didn’t relish the idea of being alone with Collier, not now and not in two weeks when Terra went on maternity leave. But staying out here was silly. This was all about the case, and judging from his cool professionalism at the scene the other night, it would stay that way.

She flipped off the ignition, palmed the keys and stepped out of her car. The fat snowflakes that had begun falling while she spoke to the warehouse owner clung to her hair and cheeks as she walked to Collier’s front door.

Whatever McClain had found must be good. For a man whose normal speaking voice was a slow-hands drawl, his words had been crisp and urgent. She wondered if he ever got that hot and bothered over a woman.

Her interviews with the firefighters from Station Two had unearthed some interesting and impressive information about the man who had taken up more of Kiley’s thoughts than she liked. He was a third-generation firefighter and great at his job. He was someone you’d want to lead you into a blaze or watch your back. And until eighteen months ago, he had been engaged to Gwen Hadley, a wealthy, gorgeous blonde Kiley had seen in Oklahoma City’s society pages.

Thanks to Collier, she already knew why he’d broken off the engagement, but his brother firefighters had felt the need to tell her, as well. Her sister, whose job as secretary to the city attorney put her in a position to hear most scuttlebutt, added some bits that Collier and his friends hadn’t shared.

She didn’t blame him for keeping the details to himself. He hadn’t just walked in on his fiancée and his friend kissing. A half-naked Gwen had been wrapped around a half-naked Dan Lazano, and Collier had caught them in the act. The shock and cruelty of such a betrayal made Kiley’s chest hurt.

Standing on his small, protected porch, she stabbed at the doorbell. The night was clear and cold. She shivered under her lined uniform coat.

“Hello?”

A masculine voice sounded behind her, and she whirled. “McClain, you move quieter than anyone—”

She broke off as the man stepped into the wedge of pale-yellow light. He was tall and handsome and not Collier McClain.

A glance back at the large black numbers to the right of the door post confirmed that this was the address she’d been given. “I’m looking for Collier McClain.”

“Just my luck.” The man gave her a flirty smile, startling her with dimples in the exact place she’d seen on Collier. His dark brown hair was mussed, the sleeves of his plaid flannel shirt rolled up. “I’m his brother, Walker.”

“Hello.” She pulled her badge from her coat pocket and showed it to him. “I’m Detective Russell with the Presley PD.”

Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Is this about work or do I need to get him a lawyer?”

She grinned. “It’s about work.”

“He’s inside. C’mon in.” He turned, jamming his hands into the front pockets of his well-worn jeans and hunching his broad shoulders against the cold.

She stepped off the porch and followed him down the sidewalk to the garage. He was as long-legged as his brother. “Do you live here, too?”

“No. I’m helping him put down the floor.”

Ah, that explained the grimy knees of his jeans, and probably the ’Vette. She followed Walker through the garage, struck by the spotless interior. There wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere on the gray painted concrete floor. A shiny white and chrome pickup was the lone vehicle. A row of cabinets lined the wall in front of her, and tools hung in a precise line to the left of where she entered. “I didn’t know McClain had a brother,” she said.

“And a sister.” Walker opened a door in the garage and ushered her inside the house. “How long have you known him?”

The question was mild enough, but Kiley read curiosity in the man’s eyes. Now she could see they were the same dusky green as his brother’s. “Not long. We’re working some cases together.”

“So you’re not here to arrest him?” Laughter marked his words.

“I could probably be persuaded.”

He chuckled as she followed him through a cozy, charming kitchen done in clean white tile and navy stripes. On closer inspection she discovered that what she thought was wallpaper was actually paint. He must have a great decorator.

Modern appliances belied the decades-old charm of the stone house, and window blinds rode up to reveal a winter-brown landscaped backyard. They passed a small room housing the washer and dryer. An old redbone hound with more gray than red on its face lay in front of the dryer. As she walked past, it looked up sleepily, then closed its eyes again.

They walked through a small formal dining room, which her mom would’ve loved, and into a cozy living area where a fire burned in a stone fireplace. Taupe carpet provided a warm counterpoint to the navy-and-burgundy-plaid sofa and two navy leather recliners.

Walker McClain turned to her. “Can I get you something to drink? He’ll be right out.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” If Collier was in such an all-fired hurry to show her what he’d found, where was he? “This house is great.”

“He’s remodeling the whole thing. We put down a new floor in the entryway this afternoon. That’s why I couldn’t let you in the front door. Would you like to see it?”

“Sure.”

They walked back to the small dining room and crossed to the arched opening in the opposite wall. The entryway’s dark red brick was laid in a meticulous herringbone pattern. “Wow. He did this himself?”

Walker’s eyes twinkled. “Well, he helped me do it.”

“Hardly,” Collier said dryly behind them. “You don’t know herringbone from a chicken bone.”

“Whoever did it, it’s beautiful.” She turned, and her words nearly slid back down her throat.

Sweet Saint Christopher. With his bare, muscular chest and low-slung jeans, Collier looked like Mr. July on the city’s firefighter calendar sold to raise money for the new community center. He was Mr. July, she realized with a start. Man, oh, man.

There was something to be said for all the hose dragging and lifting and chopping that firefighters did.

“Sorry to have made you wait, Detective.” His gaze did a slow sweep of her body as he rubbed a towel over his dark, wet head.

“No problem.” He wasn’t wearing socks or shoes, and something about his bare feet made her toes curl. “Your brother kept me entertained.”

Light from an overhead fixture slid across his golden chest. His shoulders and biceps were large, the muscles cut with definition. She’d felt that massive chest before, but she had never seen it. It probably would’ve been better if she hadn’t.

She cleared her throat. “You had something you wanted to show me?”

His brother arched a brow. “Like your etchings? I thought you had better lines.”

Kiley laughed, but a flush warmed her entire body.

Collier grinned good-naturedly. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, bro?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Collier swiped the towel across his chest then draped it over one shoulder. Muscles across his belly flexed with the movement, and the same unwelcome anticipation she’d felt during their dance rose up inside her.

She seriously had to stop looking at him. “Your house is great.”

“Thanks.”

She nodded. He really needed to put on a shirt. Was that a scar just below his navel, peeking over the waistband of his jeans?

From the corner of her eye, she caught a smile on Walker’s face and glanced over.

He slapped Collier on the shoulder. “I’m outta here. Looks like you two have business. Call me when you’re ready to do the hallway floor.” He turned to Kiley, amusement and open curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “Detective, it was nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Maybe so,” she murmured. Doubtful, she thought.

He stepped over to his brother and said in a low voice, “Why can’t you ever leave any for the rest of us?”

“We’re working together,” Collier muttered. “That’s it.”

Oh, yes, Kiley thought. That was so it.

Walker disappeared around the corner with a tuneless whistle. Collier led the way back to the living room. She followed, hearing the garage door close, signaling the departure of his brother.

“Sorry I had to ask you to come here. I’m expecting a delivery from the home store. This’ll be the third time they’ve tried to get my order straight, and I want to make sure it’s right.”

“No problem.”

“You got here fast.”

“Your message sounded important.” She dragged her gaze away from the flex of sinew and muscle, her thoughts going to his disgustingly active and very well-known dating life. Which had no bearing on this case at all. “I’m ready any time you are.”

“Nice to know, Detective.” His voice lowered suggestively.

She arched a brow. “How long before you’re ready, McClain?”

“Let me grab a shirt.”

Please. “Okay.”

The back view had to be as good as the front so she refused to watch him leave the room. He returned wearing a red T-shirt stamped with PFD in faded white letters. The sleeves snugged around hard, sculpted biceps, and she admitted to a little disappointment that his chest was covered.

He glanced at his watch. “I thought Terra would have called me back by now.”

“I don’t mind waiting until she arrives to watch the video.”

“She’s probably on her way. Can I take your coat?”

She shrugged out of it and watched as he hung it in a small closet behind them.

He moved past her to the recliner closest to the sofa and curled his big hands over the back of the chair.

“I—” she started.

“Terra,” he said at the same time. He gave her a crooked smile. “You first.”

“I tried to interview Sherry Vail yesterday, but she’s still away on a business trip.” The former Presley firefighter had been dismissed in disgrace and told she would never work as a firefighter again. After the murder of victim number two, Rex Huffman, Terra and Kiley had learned about a sexual harassment complaint Vail had filed against him, so they’d talked to her back in November.

“When she was fired five months ago, she took a job with a company that sells parts and accessories for firefighting equipment. I think she has to go out of town quite a bit.”

Kiley tucked her hair behind her ear. “I recall that Lazano was one of those called to testify against her at her disciplinary hearing.”

“Yes, just like the other three victims.”

The blonde had ample motive to hate the firefighters from her old station house. Kiley knew the woman’s termination had been justified. Vail had been lazy, frequently absent, undependable at a fire and at different times had filed sexual harassment complaints against two male firefighters who pissed her off.

Collier ran a hand across his nape. “I agree she should still be on our list.”

“I’ll keep trying until I connect with her.” Kiley stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “What were you about to say before I started?”

“Terra told me that the two of you interviewed the coffee warehouse manager and all the employees. The manager said there was a working alarm system.”

“Yes.” Kiley pushed up the sleeves of her dark green sweater, fighting the urge to pace. She could smell the fresh soapy warmth of his skin and couldn’t stop wondering about the line of puckered flesh that disappeared beneath his waistband. She needed to focus. “Their system is computerized, so we were able to get an activity printout from the security company. The alarm was activated last night at closing, just after eleven o’clock, then bypassed at eleven-thirty. They have a backup battery for situations like that, but it was disabled, too.”

“So, we’re talking about someone who knows the warehouse schedule and also how to deal with security systems.”

“Right. And maybe someone who knows electricity in general. Not just some cat burglar who can jimmy open a door.”

“Were any prints lifted from the alarm box?”

“No, no prints anywhere.”

“You’re not still blaming that on the firefighters?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“I checked into the warehouse across the street, the one where you thought the shot came from. It’s for a lightbulb manufacturer. I looked around on the roof and had some uniforms search around the building, but we didn’t find anything.”

Collier nodded.

“We’re running the names of the victims who died during the rescue calls alongside the names of employees of the warehouse to see if we can find any connection.” She paused. “Changing the subject, I heard from some of the firefighters that Lazano used to be involved with our third victim, Lisa Embry.”

“Yeah. That was a while back.”

“The man sure got around. How long ago were they together?”

Collier thought for a minute. “Probably close to five years ago. She was married for four years, and her affair with Lazano ended before she even met her husband. Ex-husband,” he amended. “Lisa and Alan divorced at the end of last summer.”

“I just heard from more than one source that Alan Embry is a possessive, jealous man and harassed Lisa mercilessly until some of you guys paid him a visit.”

“That’s true.” Collier folded his arms over his chest. “Our whole shift threatened to hurt him if he didn’t back off. I wasn’t in on it, but I would’ve been if I hadn’t been at the training center. Embry was really scaring Lisa, actually stalking her. He thought she had hooked up again with Lazano and he made her life miserable. Phone hang ups at all hours of the night, pictures of her undressing slid under her door or stuck in her mailbox. Threats. One time he flattened all her tires, and she couldn’t get to school to pick up her sick kid.”

“So it’s not a stretch to imagine this guy could’ve killed her in her garage and killed Lazano tonight.”

“No, and he was plenty hot about the guys paying him a visit. That could be motive for Miller’s and Huffman’s murders.”

Kiley nodded. “In our interviews with him right after Lisa’s murder, Alan said he had never owned a gun and didn’t know how to shoot.”

“No one’s disputed that so far.” Collier shoved a hand through his hair. “So I’d say we still consider that he hired the murderer.”

“I agree. Since he works for the city as an electrician, he’d certainly have the know-how to screw with a security system. He could get into the building, start a fire and let the sniper do the rest.”

“Yeah, talking to him is definitely on our to-do list.”

“I tried to see him yesterday, but he wasn’t at home or work.” Kiley’s next step was talking to McClain’s ex-fiancée, but she didn’t want him around for that, since his name would likely come up.

She was too aware of the fresh-showered scent of him, the underlying tension between them that went back to that dance at the Christmas party. “I’m anxious to see what you found on the video. Maybe we can watch it now, then again when Terra gets here?”

“All right.” His quick agreement was the first sign she’d had that he might be just as antsy as she was. “You’ve seen the videos of the other fire murder scenes, right?”

“Yes.” Kiley took a seat on the end of the sofa. Across from her, a burning log crackled in the fireplace, and warmth from the flames reached across the floor. The television sat on the adjacent wall, facing the end of the room where Collier stood. “I know y’all video most of your fires.”

He nodded. “We use them to train others in investigation and also to keep the chain of evidence in our control. That way it can’t be tampered with.”

He eased down into the chair closest to her, then picked up the remote and turned on the television and VCR.

The picture flickered to life, and they watched grayish-brown smoke plume out of the side windows of the coffee warehouse. The camera picked up the occasional orange flame shooting through the smoky wall. A firefighter, unrecognizable because of his hood and helmet, rushed forward with the nozzle.

“That’s Lazano,” Collier said quietly.

A second firefighter appeared behind him in the frame. “You?”

“Yeah.” Maybe a second later the sharp crack of a gunshot rang out. Lazano went down.

Collier hit the ground and vanished out of the frame. The shouted “Mayday! Firefighter down!” was muffled but audible. A pair of firefighters—the Rapid Intervention Team—rushed into the picture, bending low then straightening to drag Lazano away from the flames. Another two-man team rushed toward the building with a hose gushing water. There were no more pictures of Collier and the victim.

For several minutes the camera stayed focused on the fire, catching the sounds of thundering water, yelling voices, sirens in the distance. Flames crackled and hissed in the background. The firefighters moved in smooth synchronization. After the blaze was out, the camera panned the perimeter of the building, down the west side of the driveway to the street and across three fire engines.

Kiley wondered what Collier was thinking. Despite what had happened between the two men, watching a brother firefighter die in front of him had to be hard.

He paused the tape. “Right there.”

She leaned forward, studying the frame. “Ladder truck, hoses, hydrant, fireman.”

“Since he isn’t wearing a hood or a helmet, I can see his face. That guy isn’t a firefighter. At least not from here.”

“What?” Kiley dragged her hair over her shoulder with one hand as she scrutinized the screen.

“I know almost every firefighter in Presley, and I’ve never seen this guy.”

“Really?” She got that little head rush she always did when she got a good lead.

“I went back over the tapes from the three previous fire scenes and I didn’t see him in any of them. There’s an unidentified male in the first tape, but Terra already tried to have that enhanced. The tech couldn’t get a clear shot of the person.”

“But we have a clear shot of this guy.” Kiley rose, excited. “This is the first lead we’ve had on this murder, McClain. Good job.”

“All I did was look at the video,” he said wryly, stopping the tape.

“But you picked up on the man. I wouldn’t have. That’s why it’s such a good idea to have guns and hoses working these cases together.”

“Guns and hoses? You’re a piece of work, Russell.” He chuckled at her slang for cops and firefighters as he stood and started into the kitchen. “I’m going to call Terra again. You want something to drink?”

“Sure.” She followed him. “We need to get a photograph made from the video. The police lab can do it if you don’t have the equipment.”

“That’s where I’d take it, too.” Grabbing a cordless phone from its spot on the wall, he punched in a number and waited for several seconds, then hung up. “Still no answer on her cell. I’ll try her house.”

There was no answer there, either.

“Maybe she and Jack are out to dinner.” Kiley traced his steps to the refrigerator, leaning a hip against the counter that butted up to it. “We can show the picture to the other firefighters and anyone else at the scene.”

He nodded, opened the fridge, bent down to grab a cola and handed it to her.

She leaned forward, taking the chilled can. “We’ll need to check mug shots, too. And maybe the enlarged picture will show if the guy has a tattoo or any other distinguishing marks. If he does, we can have Crime Analysis check the field interview cards for any matching descriptions.”

“I’ll touch base with all the station houses and see if anyone has reported any stolen gear.” Collier straightened and stepped away from the fridge at the same time she popped the top on her soda can. His elbow banged her forearm, jostling her drink.

They both grabbed for the can, their combined grips crushing the tin and spewing soda all over her front and down her arm.

Collier quickly reached behind her and tossed her a towel. “Sorry.”

“No problem. I was in the way.” She blotted the front of her sweater then the sleeve and her hand. Facing the sink, she set down the towel and her drink, then turned on the faucet and put her sticky hands under the water.

“You missed some.”

“Where—” She broke off, jolted by the sudden feel of his big hand settling hotly on her hip. He reached toward her with the towel. With one knuckle, he angled her head and dabbed at the underside of her jaw.

She froze. They hadn’t been this close since the FOP Christmas party. She could feel the heat of his body and his subtle woodsy scent drift into her lungs. His lean thigh brushed hers, but it was the hand on her hip that shocked all her nerve endings. His fingers splayed low on her back, right where her hip curved into her bottom. He’d held her the same way while they danced. The memory was so vivid she could almost feel the provocative friction of his body moving against hers.

“Got it.” His voice curled around her with just an edge of seduction.

The low, sexy drawl was the same she’d heard that night, too. And her body did that same melt-in-the-center thing. The realization forced some energy through her dazed limbs. She turned off the faucet and plucked the towel out of his hand, drying her hands as she walked away. “Thanks.”

No way was she going all soft around him. She didn’t care how good he sounded. Or looked. Or felt.

Just then the phone rang. Collier crossed to the wall and picked it up. His side of the conversation consisted of “oh” and “yeah” and “okay.” She tried to read his face and determine if he was talking about the case.

In a few moments he hung up, his features tight and grim. “That was Jack Spencer, Terra’s husband. She’s in the hospital.”

Apprehension started a low drumbeat inside her. “Don’t tell me.”

“She’s having her baby.”

“Now?” Kiley squeaked.

“Now.”

She saw the realization in his eyes the same time it hit her. Now only the two of them would be working this investigation.

“Oh, great,” they said in unison.