Читать книгу Up in Flames - Rita Herron - Страница 10

Rosanna hated to lie to the detective about how she’d met Natalie, but she’d detected disapproval when she’d mentioned her store.

She’d met the same instantaneous dislike before. People were either open to paranormal and supernatural phenomenon or they weren’t. Because of his job, Detective Walsh analyzed facts and evidence, although she’d bet he used his gut instincts more often than he realized.

Still, she’d also agreed not to discuss the CIRP experiment outside the clinic. Besides, the project and the circumstances surrounding her friendship with Natalie had nothing to do with her friend’s death.

He was watching her as if he expected her to say more when the doctor strode in.

The detective moved to the window while the doctor checked her vitals. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“All right,” Rosanna said, although her ankle still felt stiff and achy. “I’m ready to go home.”

He nodded. “I’ll get the discharge paperwork ready.”

Remembering that her dress had been ruined and that they’d cut it off of her when she arrived, she clung to the bedsheet. “Doctor, do you think one of the nurses might find me a robe or something to wear home?”

He gave a quick nod, and whisked out the door.

The detective turned back to face her. “I’ll give you a lift home.”

She knotted her hands by her side. “That’s not necessary.”

“Why? Do you already have a ride?”

She hesitated, considering another lie but sensed he would be able to read her. “No, but I can call a taxi.”

“I said I’d drop you off,” he said in a clipped tone.

She wanted to refuse, but didn’t want to draw suspicion. Not that he had any reason to suspect her of anything.

No one knew about her past. It had been buried with her grandmother and would stay buried.

The doctor appeared with discharge papers in order. A nurse rushed in with a smile, and dropped a cotton robe on the foot of the bed. “An extra,” she said. “One of the discount stores in town donates them.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” She quickly slid her arms in the robe and belted it tight. Grateful the paramedics had found her purse, she grabbed it. The nurse gestured for her to take the wheelchair.

“I can walk,” Rosanna argued.

“Hospital policy,” the nurse said cheerfully.

Rosanna reluctantly relented, feeling vulnerable as the woman wheeled her to the elevator. The detective walked silently beside her, a force of such power that her insides fluttered with nerves.

The short ride to her apartment felt strained. Detective Walsh was so big and masculine that his body filled the small confined space. And his masculine scent made her stomach tighten, made her more aware of how naked she was below the robe and gown.

He parked in her driveway, then rushed around to help her out. She hated to accept his outstretched hand, but the moment she put weight on her foot, pain shot through her ankle and up her leg.

“You’re hurt?” he asked in a dark voice.

“It’s just a light sprain,” she said, shrugging off his concern. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you have any family or friends to stay with?” he asked as he assisted her onto the stoop.

She dug her keys from the bag and unlocked the door, smiling as her black cat, Shadow, darted up to welcome her. She leaned over and petted his back, then straightened to dismiss the detective. “No, but I’ll be fine. Thanks for dropping me off.”

He nodded and handed her a business card. “If you think of anything else, remember anyone who looked suspicious, please give me a call.”

“I will.” She leaned against the doorjamb. “Do you really think someone set that fire on purpose?”

His expression hardened. “We’re investigating the possibility.”

“But why would someone try to burn down the bar, especially when it was filled to capacity?”

“Motives for arson vary. Insurance. Revenge. To cover another crime.” His gruff voice grew lower. “Excitement is a possibility, too. Some arsonists feed on the energy of the fire.”

She frowned, thinking about his statement, about some of the participants in the research study. One of the doctors had discussed energy, specifically psychic energy, mind over matter…

“We’re still questioning everyone at the bar, and later today, we meet with the crime scene investigators.” He twisted sideways for a minute, scanned the sidewalk as if checking to make sure the area was secure. “We’ll talk to her family, but if you learn anything else about your friend from them, maybe the name of an old boyfriend or lover, let me know.”

“I’ll ask them.” Her throat felt thick with grief as she remembered Natalie. Her family would be flying in, making funeral arrangements….

He lifted his hand as if he might touch her, then his gaze penetrated her, caressing her body all over as if his fingers had actually brushed her skin.

Her breath caught, and she started to lean toward him, but he dropped his hand back to his side, and jerked his eyes away as if he felt the pull of attraction between them and didn’t like it, either. “Like I said, call me if you think of anything.”

She nodded, then watched him walk back to his car. She had no idea why her body was reacting so strongly to him, why her nipples had stiffened as he looked at her and heat had pooled between her thighs, making her ache like she’d never ached before.

Why the thought of him leaving sent a frisson of fear and sadness through her.

She didn’t need a relationship, or a complication in her life right now.

Especially a sexy one who made her want things she could never have. One who came with a badge and questions that she didn’t want to answer.

BRADFORD SPENT the next three hours running background searches on the bar owner and the attendants, then questioned each of them in person, coordinating efforts with two other officers assigned to the case.

Later that afternoon, he grabbed a cup of coffee and met the captain, several other officers and the arson and crime scene investigators in one of the conference rooms.

Captain Black took the lead by relaying the latest news on Parker. “He’s still in critical condition, but they’ve removed the ventilator and he’s breathing on his own, so that’s the good news.” Black hesitated, a somber expression on his face. “The bad news is that he’s not out of the woods yet so everyone send up prayers. Now, let’s have a recap on what we have so far.” He turned to Bradford, gesturing for him to speak.

Bradford took a sip of coffee to wash down the guilt over his partner’s injuries. “The owner of the bar appears to be clean. No financial problems, heavy debts, prior problems with the law or gambling issues. Only possible flag is a divorce, but his wife isn’t pinching him. I can’t see him burning down his bar to collect insurance, not and risk lives and homicide charges.”

“Anyone suspicious on your list?” Black asked.

“Struck out so far.”

His coworkers offered similar reports.

“So no one saw anyone set the fire,” Black said. “Then how did it get started?”

“The bar has a smoking section,” a young rookie speculated.

“So you think someone dropped a cigarette and the place went up in flames?” Black asked.

One of the crime scene investigators, a female named Marcy Lucerne, spoke up. “The fire seemed to have spread too rapidly for that. There were also indicators of more than one point of origin, that the fire started in at least three different locations within the bar.”

“So, our unknown subject, UNSUB, walked around the room dropping cigarettes or lit matches?” Bradford asked, not quite picturing that scenario.

Lucerne shrugged. “I’m just telling you what the evidence shows. Problem is, trace found no signs of an accelerant.”

“The alcohol in the bar was the perfect accelerant,” Bradford muttered.

A debate between the officers over theories broke out, but Black silenced them. “All right, all right. This is not helping. We need more facts, some concrete evidence. Two people were killed in that fire and one of our own seriously injured.” He paused. “Anything new on the other three fires?”

A negative response rippled through the room.

“Detective Walsh, it’s my understanding that you’ve researched arsonists. Can you give us a preliminary profile of our suspect?”

Bradford winced internally, wondering how many of his fellow officers here knew his history. Black did, and had accepted him without question. But some of the others might not be so amenable.

“Certainly.” He stood, faced the group, trying to recall the details he’d learned as his brother’s criminal activities had become evident.

“Arson is the nation’s fastest growing crime. Around fifty percent of arsonists are under eighteen years of age. If adults, most are in their twenties, never over thirty-five. Ninety percent are males, seventy-five percent white.” He paused, trying to focus on the present, on helping Parker. Not on picturing Johnny’s face in his mind.