Winterfall (12 page)

“Do you think he’s changed?”

She swallowed hard around a sudden surge of tears. “I don’t know. Anything is possible, I suppose.”

“Maybe we should call him. See if we can feel things out based on what he says to you.” She must have made a face, because he said, “You don’t want to call him.”

“No.” She shrugged. “I don’t have his number anyway.”

One tear escaped. She wiped it away quickly.

“Hey.” His voice was low and soft. “What’s wrong?”

She smiled through the tears that had taken over. “Stress and anger. I cry sometimes when I’m pissed.”

He returned her grin. “Good information to know in case I piss you off.”

She snorted a laugh. She wiped at her face again. “It’s the situation. This arsonist, whoever he is, is controlling what I do. He’s forced me out of my home and damaged others’ lives.”

Leaning forward, he tilted her chin up. “Yeah, and they’re gonna find him. In the meantime, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

She fell into his dark eyes, feeling the warmth of his gaze and touch. Her attention caught on his mouth, on the way it was so damned perfect. Not too full and not too thin. Yet she’d never call him a pretty boy. Too much of the rough and tumble lived inside this man to qualify him for a fluffy award. He was an incredibly masculine man, hard and strong.

“Damn,” he said softly, his hand now cupping her face.

“What?” Her voice sounded raw, almost pained.

“If we weren’t in full view of members of your crew, I’d kiss you right now. Hell, I should kiss you anyway.”

A swirl of heat darted around in her lower belly. She turned into a puddle of chocolate every time this man looked at her, and this time was no different. “I wouldn’t stop you. Crew or not.”

Was he closer? Yes, he was leaning in. So near and—

A tap on the driver’s window startled her again, and she jerked from his hold. Okono stood at the window wearing a shit-eating grin.

Mark rolled down the window. “Yeah?”

Okono gestured behind them. “If you two lovebirds can spare a minute, it looks like the cavalry is here.”

* * * *

The cavalry came in the shape of Detective Grant Morrison and the Fire Marshal himself. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, that scared the crap out of Juliet. She already felt shaky around the edges and angry at the crazy way it messed with her head.
Rise to the occasion. Now isn’t the time to freak.
After Long Valley, too many others had lost their minds, but she’d always kept her cool. At least externally. People didn’t know what went on inside her, thank God, or they’d know how weak she could be.

Fire Marshal Ridley Colfax sat next to her on the couch, perusing the newest letter. The Detective hovered over them. Jeeter and Okono stood outside like sentinels while Mark stayed slightly to the side, slouched against the wall, hands jammed into his pockets. He looked nonchalant as hell. She wished she could relax, but her insides had decided to start jumping around. The longer it took the fire marshal and detective to ask questions, the tighter her muscles got. Yeah, being out of control sucked, and right now she could lose it any minute.

Ridley Colfax was a fit man over six feet tall, with a bald head and a few wrinkles. She guessed he might be somewhere in his fifties. A hawkish nose dominated his narrow face and gave him a harsh expression devoid of humor. When he smiled, which he did often enough, he looked almost approachable. She’d heard Colfax took no prisoners when it came to investigations—with thirty years of firefighting experience, he knew his business.

“We’ll take this letter and analyze it along with the other one.” Detective Morrison turned toward Mark. “Could you give us a few moments alone with Miss Van Pelt?”

Mark’s eyes flashed, and Juliet thought she saw reluctance in them.

Mark shrugged and headed for the door. “I’ll be right outside.”

After he left, she felt raw, as if her nerves and insides lay open to the elements. Rain splattered against the windowpanes and thunder rumbled. While the detective stayed standing, the fire marshal remained on the couch.

Detective Morrison took the letter and placed it in an evidence bag, and then he took off his gloves and reached for his notebook and pen. “Are you working with your father?”

Juliet’s muscles tightened in surprise. Maybe she hadn’t heard him right. “What?”

The detective smiled, but it was insincere and icy. “We know your father’s been out of prison since January. We don’t know where he went. Do you?”

“No.” Her temper surged, but she kept it under control. “You heard the phone call. Does that sound like I’m working with him?”

“He could have sent the letters,” Colfax said.

“No,” she said.

The men stared at her.

Her skin crawled at the thought of her father sending those letters, and she rubbed her arms. “No.”

“Why do you think he didn’t send the letters?” The detective asked.

She shrugged, and her voice filled with sarcasm. “Have you read them? It sounds like it’s a lover…a wannabe lover. My father wouldn’t send a letter like that to me.”

“How do you know?” Colfax asked. “You haven’t talked to him in many years.”

Now she had two men scrutinizing her, and it made her twitchy. “All right. I don’t know him that well anymore. I was a young child when he went to prison.”

Colfax exchanged glances with the detective who said, “Your reluctance puts you in a suspicious light. If you’re innocent of any wrongdoing, you have nothing to lose by cooperating.”

She wanted to tell him to go to hell. “Ask me anything you want to know.”

“Did you start the fires?” Detective Morrison’s question shot out.

She laughed, but it contained no humor. “No. But I get where you’re heading with this. My father’s an arsonist, so therefore I must be.”

The fire marshal shrugged. “It’s happened before. Firefighters going bad.”

Cranky and growing hungry, she stalked to the window and looked out at the storm. “The guys are getting soaked. Let them come inside.”

That wasn’t her only motivation for wanting them inside—she needed Okono, Jeeter, and Mark to hear the bullshit the authorities were dumping on her.

The detective waved one hand. “Go ahead.”

She opened the door. “Come on in.”

The three men blustered a bit as they shook off the rain and entered. She offered them hot tea or coffee but they declined. Mark settled his back against the wall again, while Okono and Jeeter resumed their posts by the door, caution written all over them.

Juliet settled on the couch, tired and wanting the questioning to be over. “They’re suspicious of me because of my father. Maybe I’m an arsonist, too.”

“That’s bull,” Jeeter said, stepping forward. “Juliet would never do anything to hurt other people or burn property. Never.”

Jeeter’s slightly raised voice and vehemence caused Juliet to peer at him.

Silence settled in the room a moment before the fire marshal said, “Does your father have your cell phone number?”

Although his voice sounded calm, Juliet’s tension rose at the dumb question. “No. Like I said, I haven’t talked to him and he hasn’t called me on the cell phone. I’ve only received the one call.”

Mark walked to the couch, sat beside her, and directed his unyielding gaze toward the fire marshal and detective. He didn’t say a word, but she felt his warm support. It gave her strength.

“That’s why you told Chief Krisky I shouldn’t volunteer at the fire house,” she said to Colfax. “You believe I’m an arsonist.”

Colfax held his hands up. “I didn’t say that.”

“You told him it was better if I didn’t volunteer.”

Colfax shrugged. “It makes sense. You’re getting letters from someone saying they’re burning Buckleport for you. Most of firefighters at your station are probably afraid to be around you for that reason.”

Okono held a hand up. “Now wait a minute. I never heard anyone in our firehouse say that. And we all know she got the first letter.”

Okono’s support threw her off, but she acknowledged it. “Thanks, Okono.”

The former SEAL continued with, “Damn straight. I may not be hot on women being firefighters, but I don’t believe you’re an arsonist.”

She snorted softly. “Thanks, I think.”

“She’d never hurt anyone.” Jeeter’s voice was quiet. He stood to the side with an almost dejected expression.

“Thanks, Jeeter.” She glanced at her watch. “Are we done here? I’m about ready to pass out from hunger.”

“Where are you staying?” Detective Morrison asked.

“Sentry Security.” Juliet stood slowly. “You can find me there.”

“Fine,” Morrison said as he and the fire marshal headed for the door.

The detective paused with his hand on the doorknob and gave her a half smile. “This is going to sound trite, but don’t leave town.”

She leaned back on the couch. “No plans for that.”

After the detective and the fire marshal left with the letter, the other men looked at her as if she might fall apart, and she sensed it.

“I’m fine. I think I’m done here for the day,” she said.

As if sensing she didn’t want to talk, the men didn’t speak. She didn’t feel like jawing over what had happened, and Mark kept quiet the entire trip back to Sentry Security. Juliet stayed alone with her thoughts, wondering and worrying about what the world held for her next.

* * * *

Back inside the compound, Mark asked if she had enough energy to meet General Graham, and she agreed she’d better take the opportunity.

Before Mark knocked on the door, he cupped both her shoulders. His deep eyes, thickly lashed, drew her in with the concern she saw reflected inside them.

“I’ll make sure if you want to be alone for the rest of the day that no one bothers you.” He gently pressed her shoulders. “If you need anything you can call me, okay?”

His reassurance took away apprehension. “Damn, O’Day. You should bottle this.”

“Bottle this?”

She smiled and placed her palms on his solid chest. “This calm demeanor you have. Your sense of humor. Your…I dunno…your way of calming people down.”

Before he could reply, she stood on tiptoes and kissed his chin.

“What was that for?” he asked softly, his eyes hot.

“Because you’ve helped me when you didn’t have to.” Low in her belly, a new desire grew. “For being really sweet.”

He groaned, and the heat didn’t leave his eyes. “I’m not feeling sweet right now, and if we weren’t out in the hallway in full view, I’d show you.”

Oh.
Desire spread across her body, a flash fire of want that made her long for a small piece of what he promised. She couldn’t recall a sexual need as powerful as this before. As much as she longed for connection, caution reined her back. What did they know of each other in such a short time? Jumping into a sexual relationship without a basis for emotional connection never appealed to her. In this world, a relationship must be forged on trust. On mutual need and desire to help.

“Mark…”

The door opened so fast they almost jumped back. A man who was six feet tall at least, but shorter than Mark, stood at the door. His broad shoulders, gray hair and rough-looking face gave him a stereotypical presentation of a high-ranking military man. A Patton-like character in a war movie, perhaps. His eyes had an intensity to them, and he glanced back and forth between her and Mark.

“O’Day.” The man’s voice held a soft, deep tone with no-nonsense gravity.

“General Graham, this is my friend Juliet Van Pelt.”

She held her hand out to the General. “General Graham, pleased to meet you.”

He nodded, and his handshake was firm. “Alexander Graham. Pleased to meet you.” The General opened the door wider. “Come inside and debrief me.”

Mark followed her and the General let him, which relieved Juliet. Graham’s office reflected what she imagined a general’s office would contain. Certificates, degrees, acknowledgements and medals from a long career. He sat behind a massive dark wood desk with a large leather chair. Juliet and Mark settled into padded chairs across the desk. Step by step they explained everything, down to the last nut and bolt.

When they finished, Graham folded his hands over his stomach. “This keeps getting better and better.”

She frowned. “Better and better?”

“He’s referring to everything that’s happened over the last few months here at Sentry Security. Penny and Ian getting together, and Adam and Mally,” Mark said.

The General grunted. “It must be something in the damned water. Maybe volcano ash causes men to lose their minds. All of my men are lovesick.”

Her face went hot, and she didn’t dare look at Mark. “Oh, Mark isn’t lovesick. I mean, he’s just doing the Good Samaritan thing.”

Mark cleared his throat. “Are you hungry, Juliet? I’m starving. Let’s go up to the apartment and make lunch.”

She shifted to the end of the chair. “It’s been a long day and we didn’t eat. But first I’d like to thank you, General, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be out of everyone’s hair as soon as I can.”

“No rush. I’m happy to help.”

His nonchalant statement surprised Juliet. “Thanks anyway.”

The General’s half smile said he understood their discomfort. “Get outta here then.”

Back in the apartment, the heaviness of what transpired that day weighed on Juliet. They sat on the barstools at the kitchen counter with sandwiches and bottles of water.

Mark polished off his sandwich in record time. “You’re quiet. What are you thinking?”

She finished a bite before answering. She patted her lips with a paper napkin. “I hate that Morrison and Colfax are suspicious of me. It annoys me that anyone would think I’m an arsonist. At the same time, if I was them I’d probably think the same way.”

Mark nodded. “That’s why I didn’t react like Jeeter. I understand why they did what they did.”

A tiny fear invaded her mind, and the rest of the sandwich sat in her throat like a rock. She wanted his trust, and that bothered her, too. “You don’t believe I have anything to do with the fires, right?”

As he turned toward her, his leg bumped hers. He leaned forward slightly, his voice a soft rumble. “Hell no.” He shook his head. “Your father, though…that gives me pause. It seems too coincidental that he’s out of prison, he’s an arsonist, and he called you. He could have something to do with it. It wouldn’t surprise me if the detective follows your every move.”