Combustible (A Boone Childress Novel) (5 page)

Before he could respond, she opened her car door and slid into the seat. She pulled off her T-shirt as she rolled the window down. Through the thin sports bra, Boone could see her nipples straining hard against the fabric. He itched to run a thumb over the nipple, just
to see her reaction. He loved the way a woman shook with that first touch. But instead, he coughed to break the spell and adjusted his jeans to hide his interest.

“You sure know how to hurt a guy,” he said.

“Oh baby,” she said and put it in drive, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

He watched as she pulled out of the lot, remembering what Bennie has said about
Julia marking her territory.

“Watch what you’re doing with this one,” he told himse
lf as he walked across the lot. Boone wasn’t interested in being anybody’s territory, even a woman as hot as Julia’s. “You’re going to get burned.”

He was in his truck when his cell rang. Cedar’s name popped up on the ID. “Hey, Cedar. What’s up?”

“Good news,” she said. “I’ve got the notes from the rest of the lab. And I talked Dr. K into letting you make up the time.”

“Really? That’s awesome.
” He felt a pang of guilt talking to Cedar so soon after making out with Julia, though there was no reason that he should. “I really owe you now.”

“So you can make up for it by buying me lunch,” she said,
“and I’ll tell you about the details. This is going to be fun. Food court in an hour?”

“Got it. Catch you in an hour.” He ended the call and was about to put the phone away when she had a second thought and scrolled through his contacts. The phone rang five times before going to message. “Hey, Abner, it’s me, Boone. Call me back. I’ve got a couple of questions for you.”

It took Boone longer than an hour to drop by the fire station to help put up the gear, to hos
e down and change into a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then drive to campus, find a parking place, and dash to the cafeteria. It took fifteen minutes longer, to be exact, which is how many minutes Cedar had been sitting alone at a table next to the windows, pushing around her salad.

A quick scan around the room, and Boone found her. That sundress was pretty easy to pick out of the crowd of shorts and jeans. He gave her a quick wave, which she returned
. When she stood, the sunlight poured around her, giving her an aura and also allowing Boone to see her legs right through the fabric.

“Don't be such a perv,” he told himself and looked away
.

When he got there, Cedar gave him a friendly hug. “You smell like smoke and beer.”

“The smoke’s an occupational hazard, and the beer’s a vollie tradition,” he said. “They have a cold one to celebrate the newest rookie busting his cherry. I had to buy, of course.”

“Wish I could buy beer,” she said. “My twenty-first birthday isn’t
until next month.”

“Having a party?
”

“Want to come?” She blushed reflexively, her whole face turning red. “I mean, to my party.”

“Sure.” He kept his face neutral, even though he was dying to smile. He didn't like to embarrass people, especially Cedar. “Sounds like fun. Is this a graduation party, too?”

Both Boone and Cedar were finishing their associate’s degree
s at the end of the semester, which was only a couple of weeks away. Cedar had spent two years at Coastal and was dying to leave town for State, where she had been accepted into the biotechnology program. Boone had accumulated college credits while in the Navy, allowing him to finish in one semester. Now, he was choosing between three schools with forensic programs.

“Not so much for graduation,” Cedar says. “Not t
o be dismissive, but I came to Coastal to save money. It’s not such a big deal to graduate. You know?” She covered her mouth, then licked her lips, which had to be the sexiest thing ever. “That made me sound like a real bitch, didn’t it? I’m sorry, I didn't mean it that.”

“Not at all,” Boone said. He didn’t have a problem with the truth, and he wasn’t the type to judge.
So Cedar was going to State. It never bothered him before. For some reason, it did now.

He phone rang. Without looking, he rejected the call and set the ringer to buzz.

“Thanks. Most guys would’ve taken the call.” She slid a folder full of photocopied papers to him. “Here are the notes from class. I finished up the dissection, and Dr. K gave us both an A since you had started the process.”

“Thanks.” He felt a little embarrassed that she had to cover for him. “So what’s this thing I need to do to make up for the missed lab hours?”

“It’s complicated,” she said and cleared her throat. She flashed a little smile that made her face light up. She leaned forward so that the strap of her dress slipped over her shoulder. How could he be more distracted by a little slip of cloth than a horny woman pressing her body against his? It made no sense.

“Dr. K agreed to l
et you help me with research,” she said. “I'm doing it on scent receptors, and it’s really cool. Well, I think it’s cool. It’s an artificial nose. I’m hoping to win the Olympiad with it.”

“Sounds like fun. My
project is on decomp—“

The alarm on Cedar’s phone went off. “Damn. I have to run in a minute. I’ll tell you more about the research later?”

“Works for me,” he said, even though he was disappointed that she had to go so quickly. He put a ten on the table for her.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“Your lunch. I’m buying, remember?”

She handed the money
back to him. “I’m having second thoughts.”

Had he offended her?
Stared at her sun-lit legs too long? “Second thoughts about helping me?”

“No, about the repayment meal.” She laughed nervously
then said, “I’m thinking that dinner would be more in line with the level of favor.”

“
Sure.” He grinned. “Are you free tonight?”

“Sorry,” she said and seemed to mean it. “Luigi
needs a ride to meet his benefactor later.”

“His what?”

“The people who helped fund his student exchange. He has to attend this social thing they do.” She curled a lock of hair around her finger. “How about tomorrow?”

“Deal
. I’ll pick you up at eight. Any dietary restrictions I should know about?”

“You mean you’re not letting me pick the restaurant?”

“I could,” he said and leaned toward conspiratorially, “but why spoil the surprise? You like surprises, right?”

“Only the good kind,” she said and
winked.

Boone’s gut
twisted. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They both rose, and she gave him the same kind of quick hug as before, except this time, he put a hand on her hip, an
d her hand lingered on his arm, fingers lightly tracing the curve of his hard bicep.

As he watched her wind through the crowded tables, Boone shook his head
and wondered, “What the hell is going on here?”

For months, there were no women in his life, now there were two in the matter of hour
s. He barely had time to think about it when his voicemail buzzed. The missed call was from Abner, and Boone hit the redial button to call him back.

Abner
Zickafoose was a legend among North Carolina law enforcement. A short man with a big personality, he started his career as an anthropologist studying pre-Columbian Native American civilizations. His specialty was the excavation of burial mounds, mass graves that reached thirty or forty feet and included hundreds of bodies. Men, women, and children were all piled together in ceremonial burials. Excavating a single mound could take years and a small army of anthropologists and graduate students.

It
was a satisfying career, and Abner Zickafoose probably would have been happy to continue it, until one late July day, thirty-one years ago, when he and a graduate student dusted off a skull that was decidedly not Native American. It had protruding dentition called prognathism and no nasal sill, characteristics of an African-American individual. Based on the lack of weathering, it was also not thousands of years old, and two of the molars had gold fillings. What Abner had in his hands was a modern skull, a black female who he estimated to be eighteen to twenty years of age at the time of death. What the police had on their hands was a murder.

After
that, Abner became the go-to guy for most of the rural police departments in the Carolinas and southern Virginia. He traveled to beaches, forests, mountains, ponds, lakes, creeks, and swamps. His ability to identify the sex, race, and age of corpses earned him a solid reputation with law enforcement, and his research quickly turned from pre-Columbian mounds to modern burials.

He
lived in an antique quaint house on Spinnaker Island, on the other side of the county, and it was there that Boone reached him.

"
Zickafoose speaking," Abner answered.

"Hey,
Doc." Abner insisted on being called either Abner or Zickafoose, and if you had to, Dr. Zickafoose. Never grandpa, granddad, granddaddy, and certainly, never, ever paw-paw. "It's Boone, your grandson."

"Of
course, it's Boone, my grandson. I only have one, and his name is Boone. "

"I
need your help with a case, Doc. I think we have a serial arsonist torching farmhouses. One place burned down today, and there was another last week over in Duck."

There
was a pause. "A case of what?"

"
A forensics case."

"
Too bad. I don’t consult anymore,” Abner said, a hint of weariness in his voice. "I’m retired."

Boone
expected this. Abner was still moping about his forced retirement the university. "It's a fire, Doc. A human finger was found on the scene."

While
the line crackled with static, Boone pulled into Scoonz’s Burger House, and he realized how hungry he was, and his stomach was complaining like a tractor with bad pistons. He should have eaten with Cedar at the cafeteria.

The
static's a good thing, he thought, as he pulled up to the drive-thru to order. It meant that Abner was actually thinking about it.

"I'll
take a Big ol' Burger," Boone said to the speaker. "No onions. Absolutely no onions, unless you like me to die of anaphylactic shock in your parking lot. And an extra large coffee. Black."

"
Onions?" Abner said into the phone. "What's onions got to do with this?"

"No,
no," Boone said.

"No,
no what?" the worker said through the speaker.

"No
onions." Boone pressed the phone against his chest, trying to block the sound. "And a large Coke, too. No ice. Yes, I want both coffee and Coke." The worker repeated the order, and Boone pulled around to pick it up.

"No
ice what?" Abner said. "Thought you said this was a fire case."

"It
is!" Boone yelled, exasperated. "Look, Doc, I'm ordering food. Hang on the line for a minute, before the cashier decides I want my Big ol' Burger with a side of spit.”

"Why didn't you just say so?"

Boone paid for his lunch and circled the parking lot until he found a shady place to park and eat. He unwrapped the Big ol' Burger and set the coffee on the dashboard. Steam from the cup left ghostly condensation on the windshield, which he wiped away with back of his hand. He wolfed down a monster bite of the burger. Crumbs bounced down the front of his shirt as he licked mustard off his fingers and wiped both hands on his jeans.

After
another bite went down, Boone said, "Sorry about that, I was starving."

"You
in school?"

"
I’m between classes. I have to drive back in a minute.”

"Driving?
You're thirteen years old, for Christ's sake. Who let you loose on the road?"

“The US Navy
, Doc. I’m twenty-two years old.”

“Since
when?”

"Time flies."

"And flies tell time. How's the research project? Got many maggots yet?"

"Doc,
I need to know what kind of evidence to look for, so I'll call you back tonight about the arsons."

But as soon as Boone pulled out of the parking lot, he knew that he could not wait un
til tonight to test his theory. The first farmhouse that burned was only a few miles from Frisco, and it was located near the highway. If he hurried, there was time for a quick visit.

It took Boone longer than he calculated to find the house. It was set off from the highway, hidden behind a pine forest owned by
Carolina Pacific. He passed it three times before finally stopping at roadside vegetable stand to ask directions. When he finally reached the end of the long dirt drive that led to the site, Boone had lost hope of finding anything useful.