Hurricane (2 page)

Sounds she couldn’t identify made her return the way she had come, and when she smelt something strange she covered her nose as she drew closer to the hall. As she passed through the doorway, she stared, shocked, at the flames licking along the walls. They flared, then crackled. Stumbling back, she frantically glanced around.

Out. Get out.
Julianne ran down to the office she’d just left, the sound and smell following behind her. Frantic, she searched for the knob and realising there wasn’t one, Julianne pounded on the door.

“Help me. Help me!”

She coughed as the smoke reached her. Breathing shallow, she tried to think of a way to get out. Her thoughts screamed with urgency. Turning, she spotted a sledgehammer leaning against a bench of tools. Rushing to it, she picked it up before running back to the glass door and swinging as hard as she could. The hammer reverberated against the reflective surface, but nothing happened. The sound of crackling drew closer as smoke filled her nose. Glancing back, Julianne could see the fire racing towards her.

Why is it moving so fast?
She pushed the thought away and focused on breaking the door. Pulling back, she swung with all her might. The glass shattered. Dropping the hammer she kicked the shards of glass from the frame, sending the remaining glass to the ground, and ran outside. The heat from the fire licked at her back. A sound like thunder came, then she screamed as she was lifted off her feet and thrown. She seemed to fly through the air for forever, but it must only have been moments. With a crash, she hit the ground. Moaning, Julianne tried to roll over. She felt hot.

“Jules!” Frantic hands grabbed her.

They patted her, then turned her over. Blearily, she glanced up at the concerned face of Harmon. His bright blue eyes surrounded by thick black lashes studied her. With huge hands, he cupped the side of her face.

“Stay with me, Jules.” Harmon’s voice was soft, calm.

She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t form the words. Harmon’s lips moved, but she couldn’t seem to hear what he was saying.

I can’t die here. I can’t leave my baby.
She blacked out.

Keenan Callaghan pulled up to the fire scene at Woodbury Avenue, eight-one-seven-nine Kindred Place. Exiting his black Chevy Durango Crew Lux, he shrugged out of his spring jacket, throwing it into the back seat. For the second week in April, it was a fairly warm evening. He stood staring at a captivating building. From the call he’d received, he knew it was the future home of Moments Deuce—although, other than the name of the company, he didn’t know much else about what sort of business they did here. It seemed classy, yet comfortable.

Surprisingly, the fire hadn’t done much damage to the front of the building. Grabbing his kit from the passenger side of the car, he closed the door and went around to the back hatch. Studying the contents of the stocked bay area, he was again glad he had recently decided to use one of his own vehicles for work. The Singleton Fire Department let the fire marshals use their own vehicles, as long as they registered them with the department and the cars met certain criteria.

He decided to just take his larger kit until he knew what he was dealing with. Keenan retrieved it and pulled the strap over his shoulder. He strode towards the firemen putting out the last bits of the fire.

“Callaghan.” A voice he hadn’t heard on a scene lately interrupted his trek.

“Colby. This isn’t your usual sort of call. What are you doing here?” Keenan shifted his kit and shook Colby’s hand.

“Not usually. There wasn’t a murder. I got a call from Carlton Bunnell,” Colby Ramsey replied.

“Oh. Didn’t he go private about ten years ago?”

“Yep. Around the same time you decided to leave the force and go investigate fires. I don’t know what either of you were thinking.” Colby’s brown eyes were twinkling.

“I can’t speak for Carlton, but I wanted something other than the norm. It’s just a different sort of perp,” Keenan said.

It was the usual tease he got from Colby. They had become friends when he’d joined the Singleton Police Department, and had even worked as partners at the Delko Street Precinct. They’d remained friends when he’d left to become an arson investigator for the fire department. They hung out whenever they had a chance and their paths occasionally crossed on their jobs, in cases where a fire had resulted in fatalities—Colby often being called in as the assigned homicide detective.

“Yeah, whatever.” Colby brushed away a lock of hair from her rich, honey-brown face before she put her hands into the front of her jeans.

“Since you seem to know what’s up, fill me in.” Keenan continued onto the scene.

Colby matched his stride. “A fire broke out and Julianne Locke, one of the owners of this place, was inside.”

“I heard that she was taken to the hospital. What’s her status?”

“Minor injuries, although she passed out. She’s being held overnight.” Colby sounded amused.

“And that’s funny?” He stopped walking as the firefighters finished with the wrap up for the fire.

“If you know her, it is.”

“Pain in the ass, huh?” Keenan stifled a sigh.

That was all he needed—a problem witness. Usually, he was good with them. But, after a long shift of—in his opinion—a bunch of useless meetings, his patience was wearing thin.

“Not really. Just very stubborn.”

“Okay. Wasn’t there another witness?”

“Yep. He’s over there.” Colby pointed.

Following Colby’s gesture, Keenan smiled. Even looking at the guy’s back, he’d know him anywhere.

“I used to have this buddy who knew how to make a mean barbecue sauce. He was particular about it, too. Had to have the wood to barbecue over, temperature variances and everything
just so
before he’d allow his sauce to be used. Haven’t seen him in a whole lot of years. How the hell have you been, Harmon?” He slapped the man on the shoulder.

“Keenan Callaghan. It’s been, what, twelve years?” Harmon turned to face him.

The smirk on his face was familiar. Harmon was a prankster. They had grown up next door to each other and had even been roommates in college. They’d come home together, too. Keenan had joined the police force, and Harmon the FBI. They had kept in touch before losing contact years before. The large man slapped Keenan on the shoulder.

“About that,” Keenan agreed. “Did you meet Colby already?” he asked as she joined them.

Harmon nodded. “I already know her.”

“I hear you’re one of my witnesses. What are you doing here?”

“Witnesses? I thought you were on the police force,” Harmon said.

“I was. Left about ten years ago. I’m a fire investigator now. So, how did it come about that you were here?” Keenan asked.

“We handle the security for the businesses here.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“HJC Security Specialists, the security firm I co-own with Jordan Locke and Carlton Bunnell,” Harmon replied.

“I know a little about Carlton from his time on the force. Jordan Locke—any relation to the other witness?”

“Yes. She’s Jules’ cousin,” Harmon said.

“Okay. You got here quickly.”

“Our firm is on the property here at Kindred Place. Eight-one-seven-three Kindred Place, to be exact. It’s on the left side of the road adjacent to this one.”

Keenan nodded. When he’d come in he’d seen the huge, tasteful sign stating ‘Kindred Place’. He’d driven by here often enough on his way to Delko Street, where he worked at the firehouse, but he hadn’t had a reason to come to Kindred Place before. Although Woodbury Avenue was commercial, the set-up of this place wasn’t like those he usually saw in the area. Driving in, he would have thought he was coming to someone’s private home, not businesses.

“Is it usual for Miss Locke to be working here so late?”

“Sometimes she does, but not here. This is still being built. She’d be working out of Moments, at the top of this road. Actually, she just got back tonight from a business trip.”

“What is Moments, and what does she do there?”

“Moments is an event planning company, and she’s one of the main planners,” Harmon said easily.

“I notice there are a few businesses here. Break them down for me with names of the owners.”

Keenan made notes as Harmon provided the information. The area had six businesses in total. The whole area was set up in a loop. Visitors came in the right side then went out of the left. From the entrance, in order, there was an interior designer, an architectural group and Moments Deuce. At the crest and down a slight incline was Moments, the event planning company, which according to Harmon was the largest place and land space, since they held events there. When you departed from Moments going towards the exit, using the left side, there was the security firm, a landscaper’s and a bed and breakfast. Once he had all the names and official addresses of the businesses, he noticed something interesting about the owners.

“Why does each business have a Locke listed as one of the owners?”

“They own the land jointly. Bought it to set up the businesses that they are involved in. None of us had any problems with it, since it made sense, and we had it set up legally to use the land for the businesses.”

Keenan glanced back at the smouldering area of the structure. The arrangement seemed to be well thought out, but, with fires, he never knew what he would find behind the scenes. Family might act like they got along but that wasn’t always reality. He had been called in to determine if this was arson or accidental and he suspected this coincidence would have something to do with his findings. He returned his attention to Harmon and continued with his questions.

Once done, he shook his friend’s hand. “That’s it for now. Might have some more questions during my investigation. I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll answer any questions you may have. But make sure to call me, even if you don’t have any questions. Don’t lose touch again, or I’ll have to hunt you down,” Harmon said.

“I won’t. What’s the best way to get a hold of the owners of all the businesses—including this one?” He gestured with his notebook to the building.

“They’re probably all at the hospital with Jules. I’m heading over there.”

He frowned, not liking that. He preferred questioning people before they could talk to each other.

He shrugged. “Okay. I’ll be by after I’m done here. I’ll catch up with them if they’re there.”

“Okay.” Harmon left.

“Are you going to the hospital, too?” Keenan turned to Colby.

“I’ll wait and head over with you. Let me know when you’re ready.” Colby strode to her dark blue Charger.

Keenan walked over to the firefighters.

Hours later, when the night had become much cooler, Keenan walked into the Singleton Hospital, pulling his notebook from his jacket pocket. Rolling his shoulders, he formulated his impressions of the scene as the elevator took him to the witness’s floor. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to talk with her since it was so late, but he would at least be able to discover the full extent of her injuries.

Once he’d been able to conduct his interview of Julianne Locke, he could add that to his initial thoughts on the fire. Colby was silent as she walked beside him on the way to Julianne’s room.

He stopped by the nurse’s desk to find out the information he needed. “Hi—”

A voice interrupted him. “Keenan. I assume you’re here to see Jules. Harmon mentioned you would be coming by. I’ll take you to her. She’s been expecting you.”

He turned. Doctor Spencer Jacobs strolled down the hall towards him. His porcelain skin was paler than usual. Exhaustion was etched on his face and filled his steps.

“Hey, Doc. I see they let you loose from the ER.”

“Temporarily. I ran away to check on my patient. She’s a little peeved she has to spend the night.” Spencer chuckled.

“And I’m sure you took joy in telling her.” Colby chuckled along with him.

“I sure did.” Spencer rocked back on his heels.

Keenan glanced back and forth between them. He assumed Colby knew Spencer from the emergency room, but they seemed more familiar than that.

“How do you two know each other?”

“Through Jordan—Jules’ cousin—as well as Julianne. My w…wife Regina is business partners with Julianne.”

Keenan noticed the pause when Spencer mentioned his wife. He didn’t follow up for now, but made a mental note in case it was relevant to the case.

“Is she awake?” Keenan would be surprised if she were at this time of night.

Correction, it was two a.m., so it was technically morning.

“She is. I was on my way to check on her,” Spencer said.

Keenan walked beside him as they went towards her room. Colby fell into step behind them.

“What are her injuries?” Keenan asked.

Spencer gave him the breakdown. Keenan nodded. It was as Colby had said, minor, but they had kept her for the concussion and slight smoke inhalation. Spencer opened the door. Keenan paused just inside, raising an eyebrow. The room was packed with people talking softly. He counted quickly. At least forty people were in the spacious hospital room. Keenan spotted Harmon chatting with a man he recognised as Carlton, by the wall.

With the amount of people in the room, a person would think they would be loud, or at least he would have heard them from outside. The people turned to look at him and he noted the similarity in features of most of them. The women had captivating sienna faces and the men wore rugged masculinity. All had golden eyes. Even if the eyes weren’t a clue to their relationship, the features cinched it, and he wondered if they were all Lockes. If so, they were a large family. Mixed in the crowd were others who didn’t look like those he pegged as family.

“Isn’t it past visiting hours?” Keenan quietly asked Spencer.

“It is. And I kicked everyone out over an hour ago. Julianne needs to rest. Now get out,” Spencer said.

A melodious voice with a familiar, slightly musical cadence Keenan couldn’t place cut through the crowd. “It’s my fault, Spencer. I convinced the nurse to let them stay.”

“You should know better, Syneca. What if she was your patient?” Spencer asked.