Firefly Mountain (33 page)

“I booked the hall over by Beaver Pond for the calendar signing while you were in Rhode Island,” Haddy said, reading from her notebook. “As long as there isn’t a fire at the time, all the fighters we photographed agreed to sign calendars. I’m going to call Raina this afternoon and see if she can still be our musical entertainment.”

Gini lowered her head. Hearing Raina’s name made her think of Patrick. Patrick, who she’d spent last night trying to forget. Forget the feel of his lips. The amber specks in his evergreen eyes. The pain she’d caused him by pushing him when he didn’t want to be pushed.

“Gini, did you hear me?”

Haddy’s voice registered in Gini’s brain. “What? No. Sorry, what did you say?” Gini shook her head and tried to focus.

“I said are you going to tell me what’s causing that permanent crease between your brows?” Haddy tapped her pencil to Gini’s forehead. The quick poke made Gini blink.

“Have I always been an asshole?” she asked.

“What?” Haddy pretended to clean her ear with her pencil. “Where did that come from?”

“Do I always think about just me? Am I so out of touch with what other people want?” Gini looked at her friend. If anyone would know, it’d be Haddy. They spent so much time together working and hanging out. Haddy didn’t know everything about Gini, but she knew the most next to her family. And maybe Mason.

“You’ve always been a fantastic friend to me, Gini Claremont. The best.” Haddy put down her notebook and pencil and came to stand in front of Gini. She adjusted her glasses and smoothed the front of her shirt. “You were the one who encouraged me to own up to my feelings for Jonah. I wouldn’t be happy right now if it weren’t for you. And think of all you do for your family and the animal shelter and… Lord, Gini, I could go on all day.” She threw her arms around Gini and squeezed.

“Thanks, Haddy.” Gini’s voice wavered as she hugged her friend back. “I needed that.”

“Anytime. It’s what I’m here for. Now tell me why you asked me that.”

Gini did, leaving out the fires she’d set in Newport, of course. When she was done, Haddy let out a long breath.

“How do you know he doesn’t want to be with you?” she asked.

“Haddy, would you want to be with someone who got on your nerves like that?” Gini gathered up her camera and marched to her home darkroom. Haddy followed.

“Did Patrick say you got on his nerves?”

“He didn’t
say
it. He didn’t have to. He wants to be left alone.”

“
You
think he wants to be left alone, but you don’t know that for sure.” Haddy put a hand on Gini’s shoulder. “I think it’d be an awful shame if you two weren’t together because
you
decided what Patrick wanted instead of asking him.”

Gini shrugged.

“Talk to him, Gini. If you don’t, I might change my answer about you not being an asshole.”

“Hey,” Gini said. “That was harsh.”

“Maybe, but if I have to use some tough love on you so you’ll wake up, I will.” Haddy turned on her bare feet and padded noiselessly back to the office.

Gini stood in the darkroom, tracing the contours of her camera in her hand. Patrick’s secret was out, but hers was still hidden. It had to stay that way. She couldn’t think about what she wanted—that’d be selfish, and she didn’t want to be that anymore. She had to think about everyone else. Her family, her friends, the town. Her secret was much worse than Patrick’s. Her secret could kill.

****

The market affair had thrilled her. It had been a challenge planning such chaos, tending to every detail, timing it all so brilliantly. The fire department had been a little slow in showing up, but she’d known they were two fighters down. Smart to keep one ear to the town gossip. One fighter had been injured in her barn blaze, the other was out of state. She hadn’t thought two men would make such a difference, but it had. The market fire had burned longer and wider than any of her Burnam projects yet.

That would change. The next fire would be an event to remember. A fitting prelude to her final masterpiece in this backwoods town. She’d visited the next site just this afternoon. There’d be too many things for the fighters to think of in order for them to work effectively. They would never be able to save everyone and the building itself. Total chaos.

She smiled as she thought of the perfection in her planning. She wished she could have photographs to remember her ingenuity. A scrapbook of her creativity. The newspaper clippings would have to suffice. They were grainy and black and white, but they were better than nothing. Her work had to be catalogued, remembered, repeated.

****

“You were right.” Mason invited Patrick into his office. “Our fire enthusiast targeted Groveston’s, something bigger than her previous hits.”

“None of your men saw anything unusual in their patrols?” Patrick asked. He’d gone home with Whisper and Midas to find two messages blinking on his answering machine. Not having his cell phone was going to be an inconvenience he’d have to rectify as soon as possible. Mason wanted him at the police station to talk over the latest arson site, and Chief Warner was calling with the same request. Patrick had left Whisper to guard the house, but Midas was by his side as he sat in Mason’s office.

“Nope, not a thing.” Mason ran a hand through his hair and tapped a Marvel Comics pen on his desktop. “She’s winning, Patrick, and it’s making me crazy.”

“We’re on to her though. She did strike some place we’d predicted. Eliminate anything from the list that’s smaller than Groveston’s Market and double up the security at the bigger places. Midas and I will go scout out the market right now. See if there’s anything that got missed.” Patrick stood, and Midas rose to all fours.

“Good.” Mason followed Patrick to the door. “I’ve got a call to Gini. One of my guys took some shots, but she’s got a better eye than he does.” He looked at his watch. “She’s probably there now.”

Patrick swallowed though his throat was tight, so incredibly tight. He nearly choked on his own saliva. He definitely wasn’t ready to see Gini. He doubted she was ready to see him either. She probably never wanted to set eyes on him again.

“Listen,” Mason said, “I’m heading to Wolf’s Pub later tonight to see Raina. She’s playing there. Haddy is bringing Jonah, because he’s losing his marbles staying inside.” Mason laughed, and Patrick wanted to join in, but was too busy piecing together where Mason was going with this conversation. “I need something to keep me from losing it over this arsonist business. Why don’t you and Gini come by, have a drink with us?”

Patrick didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t sure what to say. How do you tell your friendly neighborhood detective that the woman of your dreams and a good friend of his doesn’t want to get involved with you because you’re grotesque? Because you’re too disgusting for words?

He drew in a deep breath through clenched teeth. “I’ve got a lot of work to do at the house tonight.”

Not exactly a lie. Patrick did have a ton of jobs waiting for him at the house. A limitless array of tasks that needed doing. Enough to keep him busy for a lifetime if need be.

“Well, consider stepping out for a few, man. All work and no play makes for one cranky bastard.” Mason slapped him on the back.

“I’m not a cranky bastard,” Patrick said, but as the words came out he sounded exactly like a cranky bastard.

“Not yet.” Mason saluted him before turning to go back to his desk.

Patrick stood in front of the main door of the police station thinking about Jonah telling him to talk to Gini and Mason cautioning him not to become a curmudgeon. He shouldn’t be worrying about seeing Gini actually. All his secrets were out on the table. He didn’t have to hide anymore. She’d seen it all, freaked, and bolted. She’d be the one uncomfortable about seeing him. Not the other way around.

He was sure Gini would be careful not to look at him. He couldn’t be certain, however, that he wouldn’t steal a few glances at her.

****

The arsonist had done a number on Groveston’s. Gini worked her camera overtime trying to capture all the destruction. Amazing that no customers had been seriously hurt. A few cases of smoke inhalation and one broken arm when an older woman slipped on her way out of the blaze. No one had been burned.

No one had suffered as Patrick must have when he had gotten burned. Gini shivered though the late August heat seeped into the market through the broken front windows. With scars like the ones he had, Gini imagined his physical pain to be excruciating. And yet, he risked additional burns every time he entered a building on fire.

Did that make him crazy or a hero?

Gini didn’t think Patrick was crazy. She thought he was possibly the bravest person she had ever met. Facing a force as ruthless as fire on a regular basis to protect people from the fate he had endured. She didn’t know the details of his situation of course, but imagined he must have lost his parents in that blaze that had left him scarred. Had he said he lost them when he was sixteen? That was a long time to be hiding.

She should know. Gini had only been a year older when she found out she could set fires with her anger. She’d been hiding for as long as Patrick. Hiding parts of herself from the world, parts she didn’t want people to be afraid of.

Shaking her head, Gini turned her attention back to her photos. The entire produce section of the market was nothing but a heap of ash. Those poorly constructed fruit and vegetable stands made of cheap lumber were no match for the angry flames. She zoomed in on what had been a fresh flower display area. Gini remembered making some of the bouquets when she was in high school and had worked at Groveston’s a couple hours a week to earn a little cash. It had been a peaceful job, one her father had gotten her.

“Flowers are serene,” he’d told her when he brought home the application. “I talked to Paul Groveston and too many folks start disputes at the register. That wouldn’t be good for you, but putting bunches of flowers together in the back will be perfect.”

She’d filled out the application and started the job two afternoons later. Worked there until she set off to Rhode Island for college. Looking at the blackened tin buckets that formerly housed the bouquets, Gini couldn’t find the serenity in flowers right now.

She raised her camera and focused in for another shot when a bark stopped her. She knew that bark and the footsteps that followed. Gini had hoped to be in and out before Patrick came to investigate. She wanted to give him the space he wanted. She wanted to not get angry with herself all over again. She wanted to not start any more fires.

“Midas,
venez
.” Patrick’s voice was low, authoritative.

Slowly, Gini turned around, prepared to what? Apologize for bugging Patrick? For coming on way too strong when he just wanted some peace and quiet? For being Gini Claremont, Queen of the Self-Absorbed Pyrokinetics?

Luckily, Patrick had wandered into the meat section of the market by the time she’d turned around fully. She caught a glimpse of his flashlight beam on the ceiling and took a moment to center herself. The anger was right there, ready to spill, ready to ignite. She had to finish up and get out before her secrets were revealed too.

Gini headed down the book and magazine aisle not as badly destroyed as the front of the market. The fire department must have contained the blaze before it had reached the last third of the building. Some of the hardcover books were still intact, but the magazines were masses of soaked paper. She snapped photos of the shelves and when she angled her camera up to the last shelf, something caught her eye. A book was wedged between the drop ceiling and the top of the bookcase. Gini couldn’t read the title because the spine was facing inward. She looked around for something to stand on, but the aisle contained only debris.

After slipping her camera around her neck, Gini set her foot on the bottom shelf and tested its strength. It didn’t creak or crumble under her weight, so she slid both feet onto it. She bounced a little, and still the shelf didn’t budge. The book was out of her reach, so she moved up to the next shelf using the bookcase like a ladder. When she got halfway to the top and her fingers closed around the book, the shelf she was on split in the center.

Gini braced herself for the floor’s impact on her backside, but it never came.

Two solid arms cradled her body instead, one at her shoulders, the other behind her knees. Patrick squeezed her body to his, and Gini breathed in that fresh-cut wood scent infused in his skin.

“What were you doing?” he asked.

Gini held up the book. “I found this,” she said. “It seemed out of place wedged up there.” She pointed to the top of the shelf.

Patrick lowered her legs and let his other arm slip from her shoulders once she was steady on her feet. Gini took several steps away from him so she could think. The distance didn’t help. Her thoughts were all jumbled as the feel of Patrick’s skin against the back of her knees lingered. She’d never wanted to touch someone as much as she wanted to touch him.

Stop it
, she warned herself.
He wants his space, not you crowding him.
She straightened out the front of her T-shirt, backed up a little farther, and looked to the book still in her hands
.

“It’s an animal book,” she said. “For kids.”

Patrick donned a pair of latex gloves, and Gini silently berated herself for getting her fingerprints all over the book. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She’d been too busy thinking about Patrick. Frowning, she held out the book, and Patrick took it.

“Where are the kids books usually located?” he asked.

Gini thought about it for a moment, visualizing the way the aisle used to look. She pointed across from where she’d found the book. “That bookcase over there on the bottom three or four shelves.”

Patrick pulled an evidence bag from his kit. “So someone had to move this book. Put it purposely up where you risked your life to get it.”

“I thought it might have been important,” Gini said. “I couldn’t see the title, so I had to get closer.”