Irresistible Stranger (10 page)

“No. That's not the real problem.”

Sophie put on her bossy sister voice. “I hear fear in your voice, Lily.”

“Because I'm petrified.”

“That's it! Get out of there. Or I'll fly there—and get Cate to come with me. We'll both—”

Lily cut to the chase. “I'm not afraid about the fire. Or anything to do with the past. The problem is…well, it's a man.”

“Say what?”

“A man.”

Sophie tapped her phone, making Lily's ears pop. “Is this my sister talking? The schoolteacher who goes to jewelry parties and craft shows? The one who's idea of a fun evening is rereading Jane Austen?”

“He's all wrong for me. I'm going to leave. He's going to stay. He's got a long reputation for loving women and not committing. I never even passed an elementary course in flirting.”

“You slept with him.” Sophie didn't make it a question.

“It can't work. I totally know that. So I'm trying to just be cool, enjoy falling off the mountain before the crash.
Why can't I have a wild affair? You and Cate have been telling me to do it for years.”

“Since when did you listen to us? You can't have a wild affair, because a wild affair isn't you.”

“But maybe it is. Maybe for once in my life, I need to do exactly this. Have a completely irresponsible, hedonistic, dangerous, crazy sexy affair. Knowing there's no future. Just doing it because…because I've never wanted anything more. Never wanted anyone more.”

“Then why are you scared?”

“What if I can't get over him? What if this is so…huge. This heart thing. This man. That no other guy will ever come close?”

“Okay. I'm trying to think reasonably here. I won't call Cate this second. I won't go out and buy a gun to shoot him. But that's what I want to do. If he hurts you, if he hurts you in even an eensy, tiny way—”

“Soph, everyone gets hurt. Nobody can save anybody that.”

They were still talking, her sister's voice as familiar as her own heartbeat, their ways of talking and teasing, their codes as comforting as a band-aid on a sore. Neither were finished talking, when Lily abruptly ended the call.

Outside, she heard the sound of a fire engine siren.

L
ily raced over to the window. The siren sounded close—within blocks—but there was no sign of smoke or fire. Still, even through the trees and darkness she could see second-story lights popping on. Others had been awakened by the sound of the fire truck.

Her heart was thudding with dread, but she told herself not to panic.

She told herself that there was no reason to worry this had anything to do with her. That was pretty darned self-centered thinking. Everything wasn't about
her.

Yet she whipped around, started searching for clothes. She'd just yanked a long-sleeved tee over her head when she sensed a sharp white flash of light, followed by a growl that made the whole house shake. Thunder. Lightning close enough to smell the ozone. Seconds later,
rain slashed in the west windows, making the curtains dance and shake.

She pushed down the windows, turned and promptly hit her knee on the four-poster in the dark. She found underpants, shorts—though she couldn't see what color—bent down, groped for her sandals. She could still hear the sirens. Her heart pounded as uncontrollably as a child's nightmare. She rushed downstairs, almost tripping on the bottom step, and found Louella standing with her cane at the back screen door, wearing a housecoat and pink Crocs.

She'd lit a utility candle, put it in the sink, which illuminated just enough for Lily to find her way across the room.

“I'm glad you're here,” Louella said. “You're my only tenant right now. I never mind that. But the house always feels bigger and creakier in a storm. I was worried how close that lightning was. Thought it might have hit the catalpa tree three doors down.”

“Are you worried? Do you have a storm shelter?”

“Heavens no, honey. This is just a storm. It'll pass. Once that lightning's moved off to the east, I'll relax good and well.” But there was worry in her eyes when she looked at Lily. “You heard the sirens?”

“Yes.”

“I don't know what's going on in our town with these fires, but I have to say, it's starting to make me uneasy. I was told twice yesterday that I was making a mistake, letting a fire setter rent a room here. Of course, anyone listens to June Ellis should get their head examined. Damn fool woman married the biggest drinker in town,
then whines about the mess she's in. So that's the kind of judgment
she's
got.”

Lily's heart sank. Louella was staring out at the rain again, not at her. “Louella, do you want me to move?” she asked quietly.

“Lands sake, no. Lordamighty. You didn't think I'd believe silly talk like that, did you? Give me credit for some brains, honey. I took one look at your face and knew you had a good heart through and through.”

“Thanks.”

“Don't thank me for being smart. I was born smart. Can't take credit for it.”

Lily had to smile, but it faded fast. “I don't want to cause you any trouble—”

“You couldn't cause me trouble if you tried. I'm a Southern magnolia, sugar. Southern women know how to be strong.” Louella's gnarled hand circled Lily's wrist. “But I
am
worried about you.”

“It's all right,” Lily reassured her. “There's no reason to…”

Her voice trailed off when she saw the sheriff's car pull up to the curb.

Even in the gloomy storm, the flashing lights of the car were unmistakable.

Louella had the door open before Herman Conner was halfway up the veranda steps. “Why, Sheriff Conner,” she started to say, but apparently the sheriff wasn't in a Southern, courteous mood.

He looked past Louella, saw Lily, motioned a come-on with his forefinger.

“You and I need to have a talk,” he said curtly.

“Sure,” she said. “How can I help?”

“You can
help
by getting in the car. I won't put cuffs on you if you just don't make a fuss. We'll talk at the station.”

Lily's stomach clenched into a tight fist. “
What?
Are you telling me I'm under arrest?” She wanted to laugh. She really wanted to believe this was funny.

“Lily. Get your fanny in the car. I mean it. Now.”

“Now, sheriff, there's no call to speak to Lily that way—”

“Louella, you stay out of this. I'm hot and I'm tired and I've had enough right now.”

 

The station was as dark as everywhere else. Electricity was still down. Daylight was coming on, but the only thing easy to see was the stale coffee in yesterday's pot. Conner still poured himself a cold cup and offered her one. He motioned her into a back office with windows—not a jail—but the only place that had enough light to talk. The chairs were hard-core metal, the table a battered gray institutional type.

“Am I under arrest?” she finally had a chance to ask again.

Even in the poor light, she could see the hound-dog bags under Conner's eyes and the pallor of exhaustion behind his ruddy skin. The patience and kindness he'd shown her before was missing in a raw way. He was having trouble even meeting her eyes, was antsier than even she was.

“Darned if I know,” he said. “I'm thinking on it. Don't tell me you didn't hear the sirens an hour ago.”

“I did.”

“The fire was in the library. Where you were yesterday.”

“Oh, no—”

“Yeah. ‘Oh no.' I'm getting tired of these oh-nos. You come in town, suddenly there's arson. Specifically, everywhere you've been. Sarah-Leigh, she's the head librarian—”

“I know.” At his glare, Lily decided not to interrupt again.

“Sarah-Leigh saw you talking to Mr. Renbarcker at some length yesterday morning. She saw you in the childrens' section and in the adult section. She didn't specifically see you in the back reference room, but she didn't know of a soul who was back there yesterday, either. That's where the fire started. The old microfiche machines. The old newspaper records and archives.”

“Oh, no,” she said again.

“Just in case you didn't realize, this town thinks of the library as a treasure. And in case you didn't know, Griff's Secret is one of the favorite haunts in town. Everybody loves that ice cream. Then there was the first fire in the old mill, just days after you got here. At least there was no harm done in that one, but that's now three cases of arson. Three where a gasoline accelerant was used. And that's a for sure, because there were the same burn patterns in the debris, which is how we all know there was an ignitable liquid in a fire, but not diesel, because diesel burns a whole lot different than gasoline. I suspect you know all that. Because every one of those places has a connection to you. And the fire your daddy and mama
were killed in, back when, was a gasoline-started fire, too. Now. What do you
expect
me to make of all this, Lily Campbell?”

“That this is awful. That this can't be coincidence.”

“Well, now, we're sure on the same page there. So far, nobody's been hurt. It's just financial losses. Time, trouble, money. I put on an extra man these last few days, thankfully got to the library within two minutes of the alarm going off. Some records destroyed for sure, but nothing worse than that.”

“Thank heavens,” Lily breathed.

“No. There's no more ‘thank heavens' in this story. I don't have, at this time, any concrete evidence to arrest you. But you're the one and only suspect. The only one with a connection to these arsons. The only one. You have anything you'd like to say about that?”

“I didn't do it, Sheriff. I've never set a fire in my life, anywhere, anytime. I teach school. You can check anything about my past you want, my school records, my work record. I had one speeding ticket when I was nineteen—that's all. You've talked to me. You've surely gotten a feel for my character—”

“Yes, I have, honey. I don't get any of this. None of us do. And I don't want to believe you're our arsonist, but I can't separate you from these crimes either. I'm not arresting you. Not this minute. But this would usually be the moment when I say you can't leave town—only, I'm real, real tempted to say the opposite. Get out of here. Go back to wherever you're from. Stay away from Pecan Valley. Don't show your head here again.”

The lights suddenly popped on. An air conditioner
wheezed to life, and phones immediately started ringing. Lily hadn't answered the sheriff, didn't know what to say, when she suddenly saw Griff pushing through the heavy metal doors. He looked out of breath, wrinkled, unshaven and downright ticked off.

 

Griff gave her credit—more than credit. She held it together until he got her out in the fresh air, and then she leaned into him as if her spine suddenly turned liquid.

Getting his hands on her felt better than anything he could remember—better than air or water. Even better than sex. She clutched him tight enough to bruise. He let her. The rain had stopped, leaving a fresh-washed morning and Georgia sunshine so bright it stung the eyes.

Lily finally took a long breath and looked up at him. “I have to admit, being taken to a police station isn't the most fun way I've ever started a morning.”

She clearly wanted him to smile. Unfortunately, he had to let her go when they reached his EOS, but he hustled her inside before anyone could conceivably get near her. Once he climbed in, he reached over to kiss her, just one hard, fast kiss, and then started the engine. His heart was pumping in thick, noisy thuds. His right hand made a white-knuckle fist on the steering wheel.

He wasn't angry, of course. He was just…a little tense. For a long time—maybe forever—he was going to have the picture in his head from when he'd walked into the police station and saw her. She was just sitting there, her face whiter than paper, Conner looming over her. Her dark eyes had looked rattled and lost and…

No, he wasn't mad.

But he was definitely tense.

Lily leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, curling up as much as she could curl with the seat belt trapping her. Her palm pressed tight against her abdomen. “I can't swear, but I'm pretty sure I'm not cut out for a life of crime. There's still a chance, of course. But I don't think effective criminals would likely get this sick to their stomachs in a police station.”

“You're not hurling in this car, sugar.”

She chuckled. A watery chuckle, but still a chuckle. “You can always throw me out. I won't mind. All I want to do is curl up in a ball on the wet grass and talk myself into a nice, calm coma for a while.”

He said casually, “How come Louella had to call me? Why didn't you call yourself?”

She opened one eye, studied his face. “It wasn't even five in the morning, Griff.”

“So?” His voice was so smooth and calm, you could have spread it on toast. He was sure.

“So the sheriff just suddenly showed up in the middle of the storm. I had no idea why, or what was going to happen. And when he said something about putting cuffs on me…to be honest, I just completely froze up. I don't think there was a clear thought in my head.”

There was in Griff's. The penalty for murdering the sheriff just might have been worth it if Conner had dared put cuffs on those fragile wrists.

“Griff—the sirens this morning—there was a fire in the library.”

“I heard.”

“The fire was in the back room. You know, the research and records room? Like where they keep old newspaper records.”

“I heard.”

“It keeps zinging in my mind. That those would have included newspaper records from the time my dad and mom died.
Those
records.”

He shot her a quick look. “You're saying that's the reason for the fire?”

“Oh, no. I'm not saying anything. I don't understand a single thing that's happened since I got here. It just seems there's a growing association to me and these fires.” She sighed. “The sheriff wants me to leave town.”

And that was another thing that made no sense to Griff. If Conner thought Lily was guilty of these arson events, he should be insisting she stay and be investigated. If he thought she was innocent, there wasn't a reason on the planet why Conner should be pushing her out.

“Griff.” Her voice changed tone. The damsel in distress had recovered. She was studying him, staring at him as if she had some kind of laser access into his brain. “You're gripping that steering wheel hard enough to break it off.”

“Not really. I was just thinking.”

She didn't buy that. “You know,” she said gently, “there's nothing wrong with letting out a little anger. Some people have a bigger temper than others. It's not a bad thing. It's only bad if the person does something inappropriate with their temper.”

He shot her a serious glower. “I
do not
have a temper.”

“You've got a huge one,” she informed him. “But you don't use it against people. Or to hurt people. So I think you should just consider accepting it. Some things are always going to push your buttons—like when you don't have the power to control a problem. There's no easy answer for stuff like that, I realize, but you don't have to pretend you don't feel ticked off.”

He didn't respond, but he was thinking plenty. Sleep with a woman and what did you get? Mouth. Nonstop. And fear. Damn it, he'd nearly had a heart attack when he heard the fire truck siren in the wee hours of the morning. If she'd stayed in bed with him where she belonged, none of it would have mattered. But she hadn't. She hadn't been where he could see her, touch her. Make sure she was safe.

If that wasn't rational thinking, he didn't remotely care.

“Griff? Um…where are you driving?”

“Debbie's Diner. First off, you need breakfast.”

“I couldn't eat a single thing—”

“And second, you need to be into a nice, public place, where people can see you. Instead of people talking about you, you can get in there and talk about them. To them. Out in the open.”