Burning Love. Debra CowanЧитать онлайн книгу.
working this case? He was your friend, after all.”
Having her doubts voiced only served to tighten her jaw. “I am working it.”
“Look, I apologize for what I said when I first walked in, but seeing him obviously affected you. I don’t want anything to jeopardize this case.”
“Neither do I. And nothing will. What happened earlier was shock. I’m not used to seeing my friends burned to a crisp,” she said sharply.
“I know you’re the only fire investigator we have, but maybe someone else could help you out, give you some space.”
“What I need to do is my job, and I will. Maybe you could do yours.”
His lips flattened. “I’ll be by to talk to you once I finish my preliminary interviews.”
“You know where to find me.”
She wondered if his blue eyes were that hard all the time, then she pushed the thoughts away and focused her attention on piecing together what had happened to her mentor.
Chapter 2
He wished he hadn’t touched her, although he couldn’t have let her fall flat on her face. That was where Terra August had been headed when he’d first seen her. Jack could still feel the taut curve of her waist, smell the hint of sweet woman beneath the acrid burn of smoke.
Late the afternoon following the fire, he scrubbed a hand over his face. The setting sun glared through the windshield of his pickup as he drove back to the fire scene. He’d stopped in town to interview a possible witness in a car-jacking, one of his several active cases, but his thoughts were mainly on his newest case. A mix of appreciation and admiration still flared when he thought back to his earlier meeting with Presley’s fire investigator. Professional admiration was where he should draw the line, so he did. She’d put her personal feelings aside and done her job. Despite the raw pain in her eyes, she’d been careful and attentive at the scene. Now he needed to know how much, if any, progress she’d made.
Jack bit off a curse.
Terra August had been on the fringes of his mind like a shadow, not keeping him from his job, but a distraction he’d been unable to dismiss. Was it the vulnerability in her face when he’d first seen her at the fire scene? The agony in those jade-green eyes when he’d stuck his foot in his mouth about her friend? He rubbed at his eyes, scratchy from lack of sleep.
The reason she lingered in his mind had to be because she was still on his suspect list. Until he’d interviewed and cleared her, she would be. Still, his gut told him she was innocent. Which didn’t explain why he’d thought so much about her.
Why Terra August? What was different about her? Since Lori’s death three and a half years ago, Jack hadn’t noticed anything except work. Certainly not women. Not like this.
Some of his time today had been spent asking questions about Terra. She’d spent nine years fighting fires on the front line with Station Four. The last four had been spent as a fire investigator. Orphaned at age fifteen by the death of her parents in a car wreck, she’d moved in with her grandfather, a firefighter who’d died of smoke inhalation in a fire about ten years ago.
She was also divorced from Keith Garcia. Garcia was a sharp young defense attorney with a prestigious law firm making a name for himself in the state. Jack found himself wondering what had gone wrong between the two of them.
He turned into the Hunter’s Ridge subdivision. As he reached the yard squared off with fluttering yellow police tape, he noted a lone police cruiser. It appeared the fire investigator had finished here.
He stopped and rolled down his window.
Pope, the officer at the scene, stepped up to Jack’s truck. “Hey, Jack.”
“Hey. The fire investigator still inside?”
“No, sir.” The hefty, twenty-something officer checked his clipboard. “She left about noon. Said she’d probably be back later, though.”
“Thanks.” Jack waved and turned around in the neighbor’s driveway, then drove out of the neighborhood. He wasn’t wild about going to see her, but there was no way around it. They were as good as partners on this case. Even if Jack had argued about it, he would’ve been shut down.
Fire deaths were worked by both homicide and the fire investigator. He’d probably have to explain to a few people they interviewed that partnering up on this investigation was not only legal, but necessary. In cases like this, a fire investigator’s knowledge was invaluable in asking all the right questions. Jack had already been told by the captain that the victim was the mayor’s uncle. Mayor Griffin had called. He expected everyone to work in whatever capacity was needed. And probably twice as fast.
The more information Jack had, the quicker this case would be solved. Right now, Terra August had information. Regardless of the way she’d intruded on his thoughts all night and day, this was a job. His job. The one thing he could always count on.
Cool air streamed in from his open window, clearing out the cobweb of thoughts he’d been unable to escape all day. He was curious about her; that was all. Of course he’d known Presley’s fire investigator was a woman, but if he’d heard anything about her, he sure didn’t remember it.
Her picture could’ve been plastered on every billboard in town for the past three years running and he wouldn’t have even noticed. His job commanded all his focus. In the first six months after his wife’s death, his world had narrowed to minutes—making coffee, putting gas in his car, mowing the grass. Eventually, he functioned day by day, lead by lead, case by case.
Dating was a distant memory, just like sex. He knew what that said about him, but he didn’t care. His attitude drove his sister crazy, but Jack had found a place where his head—and his heart—weren’t stuck in the past.
He needed to get back on track. Once he interviewed Terra and got caught up on her investigation, he’d be able to go about his business, alone again.
He might admire the way she’d sucked it up at the crime scene, but that didn’t mean he liked this new awareness sizzling in his blood. Still, he’d worked with dozens of women over the years, a few of them very beautiful. There was no reason he couldn’t do it this time.
Jack pulled up in front of Presley’s original fire station, which now housed the fire investigator’s office. The redbrick firehouse, antiqued from years and wind, had held one fire engine and one rescue truck. A weather-scrubbed metal sign hung over the door identifying the old building as the Fire Investigator’s Office. Newer, crisp black lettering repeated the same on the glass front door.
When the city had experienced a population explosion ten years ago, the fire investigator’s office had been moved into the sturdy, but outdated, building. Recent renovations included new electrical wiring and plumbing, but no facelift to the exterior. Now Presley boasted four fire stations complete with engines and trucks.
Prodding himself to get out of his pickup truck, Jack gave himself a mental shake. Regret still flared that he’d made the crack about her reaction to Vaughn’s body. Jack shouldn’t have said what he did to her—he probably had less experience at fire deaths than she did—but she’d looked so out of it. Her peachy velvet skin had gone ash-white, making her green eyes even more vivid and huge.
He rubbed the taut stretch of muscle across his nape. There he went again. Thinking about her when he should be thinking only about what she could bring to this case.
Patting the pocket of his khaki sports jacket to make sure his notebook rested in its usual place, Jack pulled open the creaky glass door. The smell of chemicals and scorched air hit him full on, not overpowering, but strong and steady. The empty desk outfitted with a phone and neatly stacked files caused him to look at his watch. A little after six.
“Hello.” His voice echoed off the flat concrete floor. He let the door shut behind him and moved past a worn oak secretary’s desk.
Separated