Montana Fire (7 page)

She grinned. “You got it.”

Elissa quickly returned with his drink and he settled back in to go over the facts.
He brought the cup to his lips and savored the strong rich scent before tasting it.
The aroma of the beans alone helped defog his mind. Tomorrow, he planned to canvas
the neighborhood to see if anyone had seen anything suspicious around the time of
the fire. All during the investigation today, Max kept his eye out for Larry, but
the guy never made an appearance. Damn. Jamie said Larry had seen something. The question
was what?

Before Max had a chance to clear his mind of the fires and the investigation, Elissa
delivered his meal. “Need anything else?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

She disappeared, just the way he liked it. Max had taken all of three bites when a
shadow blocked the overhead light.

“Thought I’d find you here.” The deep gravelly voice could only belong to one man—Dan
Hartwick, his former boss and mentor.

Max glanced up and motioned for his friend to take a seat. He liked the man. Dan might
only be two years older, but his honor, work ethic, and knowledge of the criminal
mind spoke of a man with a lot of experience.

Dan waved to Elissa, and she trotted over. Dan requested coffee.

“You got it.”

Max lifted his mug. “I trust your visit has to do with the warehouse fire, and not
because you missed my happy face?”

Dan smiled briefly. “It does.” He leaned forward. “Trent showed me the photos of the
graffiti.”

“Did he tell you that when Thad compared the message to the other arson cases, the
lettering didn’t match?”

“He did.”

Elissa set Dan’s coffee down then slipped away.

Max sipped his drink. “I asked Trent to look into the owner’s story, but he hasn’t
gotten back to me.” Research took time.

“I ran into Trent on the way over here. He told me to tell you that Hanson seems to
be telling the truth.”

“Damn. The owner torching his own building would have made things nice and easy.”
He wanted to ask Dan why he was there, but his mentor had his own style. He’d tell
Max when he was ready.

Dan sat back and wrapped his hands around his mug, his lips pressed together. “I’m
thinking the fire had something to do with the homeless man.”

Dan sounded like Rich. “You do know this isn’t your case?”

“I’m not here to interfere, but our departments do work together, and Trent works
for me.”

Thankfully, Dan’s tone held no argument. “Is there something you know about Jonathan
Rambler that I don’t?” Why else would Dan have brought up his name?

“Yes. He’s not Jonathan Rambler.”

Max was sure he’d remembered the man’s name. “Then who is he?”

Dan shrugged. “Not sure exactly, but something’s off. His fingerprints aren’t in the
system.”

Max thought about the implication. “That’s not unheard of. That just means the old
guy might never have been arrested. He still could be Rambler.”

Dan leaned forward. “Here’s the thing. He ain’t no old man.”

“I’m not following you.” Max must have been more tired than he realized.

“The emergency room doctor called the precinct. Said the nursing staff told him that
in the process of cleaning up the fire victim, they found the man was wearing a wig,
wore a plastic retainer to make his teeth appear stained, and was covered in a ton
of makeup to age him. Even wore padding around his middle.”

Max’s mind spun. “He was working undercover?” It was the only logical explanation.

Dan waved a hand. “Pretty sure that’s the case. About six weeks ago, RHPD got a courtesy
call from the FBI stating they’d sent a team of agents to Rock Hard.”

“Here? How many are we talking about?” Rock Hard didn’t have an FBI field office.

“They didn’t say.”

Excitement lit up his blood. Max loved a puzzle more than anything. “There’s another
homeless man Jonathan befriended. His name is Larry. I’ve been trying to track him
down, but he seems to have disappeared into the wind.”

“You think he knows something?”

“He might.” Max explained what Jamie told him. “It sure would save time if the Feds
owned up that Rambler was one of their own.”

“No kidding. Why bother calling the mayor when they don’t tell him shit?”

“Do you think the mayor knows more that he’s saying?”

Dan nodded. “Anything’s possible.”

“Bureaucracy at its finest.” Max went over the few pieces of the information he’d
found. “The message on the door said, ‘You fucked with the wrong guys.’ That could
have been a warning to this Jonathan Rambler. His cover might have been blown.”

Dan nodded. “That was my first thought.”

Max’s juices flowed. “To cover our bases, I’ll ask Trent to check if Hanson pissed
off some potential business partners.”

“Could be someone doesn’t want another gym in the area.”

“Hanson aside, let’s assume this so-called vagrant question is an FBI agent. The Feds
should at least warn us if someone in our town is involved in the drug trade again,
weapons accumulation, or human trafficking.”

“Agreed.” Dan brought his cup to his lips as if he had nothing better to do than sit
and chat.

“Anything else you found out?”

Dan smiled. “Trent mentioned your
girlfriend
, Jamie Henderson, knew this Jonathan guy.”

“She was friends with him.”

“Have you asked her about him?”

Max couldn’t figure out why Dan was butting in. “Not yet. I’m waiting for the appropriate
time, but I will.”

“Once the mayor gets wind of what’s going on, he’ll be riding not only my butt, but
the fire chief’s ass to find the arsonist.”

“We don’t have conclusive evidence it is arson.”

Dan lowered his chin. “Multiple source points? Come on.”

Max couldn’t get anything past his former boss. “Fine. I still need to wait for the
lab results.”

“Do what you must, but in the meantime can you speak with Jamie about Jonathan Rambler
or whatever his name is?”

Max blew out a breath. When they’d spoken at the crime scene, Jamie appeared to have
forgiven him for what he’d said at the wedding.

“Fine I’ll ask her, but there’s no guarantee she knows anything. Jamie stopped by
this morning, and seemed pretty shaken up. Not sure if it was because of the fire
or the attempted robbery at the clinic last night.”

“Heard about that. Trent’s on it. Until we can confirm this man’s identity, Jamie
is all we have.”

We?
Max owed Dan his sanity. His boss had been there when Max’s home had burned, and
Dan had been the one who had brought him into the conference room to tell him his
wife and son were dead.

“We might have better luck if Thad picked her brain. Jamie’s good friends with his
fiancée.”

“It was Thad who suggested you talk to her.”

“Jamie’s not the most forthcoming person.” At least she hadn’t been at the wedding
when he’d practically brow-beaten her into admitting she needed to take control of
her life. Trying to extract information from her wouldn’t put him on her good side.

Dan leaned forward. “I have faith in you.”

“She probably knows nothing. Maybe we should call the mayor and ask him to find out
who Jonathan Rambler is. You’re good friends. How about you calling him?” If Dan had
a job to do, he might leave the rest of the investigation alone.

Dan nodded. “Already did. He doesn’t know, though he said he’d put in a call to the
FBI. He’s worried, too, about what their presence might mean to our town.” Dan pushed
back his chair and tossed down enough money to pay for five coffees. “Rock Hard is
counting on you.”

Chapter Six

W
hen the alarm went off early the next morning, Jamie placed an arm over her face.
She groaned, knowing she had to get up. After taking a few deep breaths, she tossed
off the covers, placed her feet on the floor, and forced herself to rise. Wanting
to look presentable in case Jonathan happened to be awake, she washed up then drew
on her newest set of scrubs before heading into the kitchen to fix her coffee and
down a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Before she made the trip to the hospital, she texted
Becky. Her friend would know whether Jonathan had been moved to the burn unit floor
yet.

Becky immediately shot back her reply:
Yes. Tube’s out, but he’s heavily sedated
.

Jamie thanked her, and stuffed her cell in her pocket. As soon as she finished her
meal, she shrugged into her coat and left. It wasn’t until she passed the fast food
drive-through that an ache the size of a wall crumbling during an earthquake, crept
up her body. Would she ever need to buy an extra cup of coffee and breakfast for Jonathan
again? No doubt another homeless person, besides Larry, would find a space near the
clinic to call home, but there was a wily intelligence behind Jonathan’s pained eyes
that had drawn her.

Jamie supposed she could get in the habit of buying a meal for Larry each morning,
but with his friend gone, he might find peace elsewhere.

When she stepped through the hospital doors, she saw that Janice Greenwald was manning
the reception desk again. “Hey Janice. Could you check what room Jonathan Rambler
is in?”

Janice typed the information into her computer. “Room 604.”

“Thanks.”

Jamie stepped off the elevator and wiped her damp palms on her pants, preparing herself
for the worst. As Jamie rounded the corner, she ran straight into Max Gruden—literally.
Reflexively, she planted her hands on his chest, and the solidness of his body stunned
her.

Heat raced up her face and she lowered her arms. “What are you doing here?” She wasn’t
even sure how she’d managed to form those words.

*     *     *

“Checking on your friend.” Max kept his voice as sympathetic as possible, working
hard not to mirror Jamie’s defensive attitude.

A moment later, her rigid posture melted like ice cream on a hot day. Guess she couldn’t
believe he’d followed up. For a split second, a connection formed, but he was the
one who broke it, not wanting to expose his own reasons for coming.

She probably thought he was here to pump her friend for information because he didn’t
trust her enough to tell him. She’d be wrong. Max was here because Jamie wouldn’t
ask the right questions. He believed she had no idea Jonathan was anyone but a homeless
man.

Dan had texted Max this morning with some new information. Before finding out what
Jamie knew, the mayor was able to get ahold of his contact at the FBI. He notified
them of the fire and the severity of the man’s injuries, but apparently, they already
knew. They begrudgingly revealed that Jonathan was their agent, and that his real
name was Vic Hart. His expertise was in domestic terrorism. That news made Max’s blood
run cold.

Two men in suits rounded the corner and strode past them, as if they were about to
check on Vic Hart. They probably had been waiting at a distance for Max to leave the
room. From their erect posture and trim physique, they looked like federal agents,
but he couldn’t be sure. The urge to question them burned inside him, but he didn’t
want to divulge Jonathan’s identity to Jamie.

She twisted her lips as if she were debating whether to rush on by or ask him about
his visit. “How is he?” Her neck stretched forward like she didn’t want to miss a
word.

“He was heavily sedated, so I didn’t stay.”

“I heard that.” Her gaze lowered. Was she merely shy or was she hiding something?

“I’m about to speak to the ER doc who treated Jonathan. Do you want to come?”

“Do you think the doctor knows something?” The hope in her voice made her pain more
real.

“Won’t know until I ask him.” He hadn’t meant to sound flip. He was merely stating
the truth.

She drew in her bottom lip as if she were trying to decide whether to join him, or
stop in and see her friend. On second thought, it might be better if Jamie didn’t
come with him. The ER doctor might not say anything with her present.

“I want to visit Jonathan first.”