Playing with Fire (17 page)

“Seriously.” She thumped his chest. “Do
you?”

“A whole houseful. What about you?”

“Definitely.” She nodded. “But a whole
houseful sounds like a lot of work.”

He gave her his trademark cocky grin.
“Liberty, it’s not work making babies, it’s therapy.”

***

Well, well, well. No wonder she managed to
avoid suspicion. She and the man in blue were stoking their own
fire.

He slipped further into the shadows as
another police car crept past and pointed its spotlight toward his
hiding place. His patience was wearing thin. No more warnings.
Screw setting her up, it was time to take her out.

He took a long drag from his cigarette and
exhaled through his nose as his erection grew. He had it planned
down to the last, tiny detail and it would be the most stimulating
thing he’d ever done.

Shane whistled as he strolled into the
station just as the sun disappeared from the clear, evening sky.
After spending the early morning hours with Liberty and catching a
few hours of deep sleep, he actually felt almost human again. The
nightmares subsided more and more each day and the chest pain felt
more like a pinch than a knockout punch. He grinned in
satisfaction.
Therapy
was working out just fine.

“Fond memories, Hartwell?”

Dylan met him in the garage and followed him
to his office.

He smirked and shrugged. “Maybe.”

Dylan shut the door behind them and sat in a
corner chair.

“Anything new?” Shane asked.

Dylan stirred uneasily as he handed him a
manila folder. “I hate to ruin your good mood, but you’re not going
to believe this.”

He hesitated, measuring his friend’s anxiety.
As he slowly opened the file, alarm bells rang obnoxiously in his
head. “Hell,” he cursed. “All three fires were ignited with
acetone.”

“That’s not all,” Dylan mumbled.

His heart pounded. Although they’d found
acetone cans at the fire scenes, reading it in black and white
proved his speculation. Refusing to acknowledge his aching gut, he
flipped through the pictures in the file and paused on a glossy
picture of an earring. The same earring he’d seen up close and
personally. He flipped another page. Her credit card. And last, the
fingerprints lifted from the acetone cans. Blood drained from his
face.

“Liberty,” he muttered.

Dylan’s face reddened and he squinted
narrowly. “What did you say?”

“Liberty had something to do with these
fires.”

“Man, you really are crazy! Insane! Why the
hell would you think that?”

His stomach lurched. “Jake pulled her
background and placed her near a series of arson fires in
Minneapolis. When she left, the fires stopped.”

“No way, Shane.”

“I have evidence, Dylan. Her office reeked of
acetone and her prints covered the cans.” He slid a picture across
the desk. “This is her credit card. No mistake.
Liberty E.
Prescott
in etched, white letters.”

Dylan pinched the bridge of her nose. “A
normal, decent human being would believe someone set her up. We’re
talking about
Liberty
, the woman you’ve spent most of your
time with your dick buried inside.”

“Nice, Dylan.”

“Well hell, you won’t listen to reason.”

“I have to investigate,” he retorted. “This
has got to stop.”

“At least talk to Jake first.”

“Jake can’t tell me any more than I already
know.”

“Shane, your personal life is none of my
business, but I can’t stand here and watch you lose the best thing
that’s ever happened to you because of your stupidity. Go home, get
some sleep and get your head on straight. She deserves that
much.”

“And what about Zach, Dylan? We forget about
him just because I slept with Liberty?”

“Bullshit! You didn’t just sleep with her,”
Dylan said slowly. “You love her.”

He closed his eyes, entirely miserable with
grief ripping his heart in shreds. “It doesn’t matter.”

“We can’t prove anything.”

“I have to talk to her.”

Dylan glared at him with burning, reproachful
eyes. “Watch your mouth, Hartwell,” he warned. “If not, it may come
to blows between you and me.”

***

Liberty lay morbidly still in the center of
the bed and begged the room to stop spinning. Unfortunately, her
pitiful begging wasn’t working. Neither was lying motionless.

She bolted out of bed and ran into the
bathroom, losing everything she had into the porcelain god.
Satisfied she was now completely empty, she crawled to the couch
and fought through the cobwebs of confusion. As much as she
regretted it, late night hours seemed to be taking a toll.
Succumbing to the promise of relief, she slipped into a fitful
sleep.

Annoying pounding roused her from her stupor
some time later. She sat up slowly, relieved her stomach seemed to
be settled. Smoothing her hair from her face, she opened the door
to find Shane braced in the doorway.

“Hi.” She fought her weakness as he stepped
inside.

His eyes softened for a brief moment as he
took in her appearance. He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind
one ear. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She attempted to smile. “I think
I’m just tired.”

“We need to talk.”

“Sure. Do you need something to drink?”

“Liberty, I don’t think you’re going to want
me to stay when you hear what I have to say.”

“Oh.” Her stomach rolled. “I need to
sit.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re
okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Now what’s so
important?”

He stood silently and shifted from foot to
foot.

“Shane,” she prompted as her stomach turned
over again, “please spit it out.”

He took a deep breath. “Forensics finished
their investigation of the recent fires.”

“And?”

“They were all connected. All arson and
evidence found at each scene suggests the same suspect.”

“Any idea who?”

“We found your missing earring at
Andy’s.”

Her eyes widened in shock at his hidden
accusation. “Are you insane? Have you inhaled too much smoke over
the years?” Her shock yielded quickly to fury. “I didn’t set a fire
at Andy’s!”

“There was proof you were there.”

“So? I take my drycleaning there.”

“The fire was ignited with acetone.”

Unable to answer, she swallowed another wave
of nausea.
This is not happening
.

“Your credit card was found in the rubble at
Pete’s,” he continued.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to
speak through gritted teeth. “I don’t use my credit card at Pete’s.
I have an account and he bills me monthly.”

“That fire was lit with acetone too.”

“I should commit you.”

“What about Minneapolis?”

“What
about
Minneapolis?”

“There were a rash of arson fires while you
were there. They stopped when you left.”

“Shane,” she spat, “I had no idea about fires
in Minneapolis. I left for Maddie.”

“Your office fire was started with
acetone.”

Pushed to her absolute limit, she gave in to
fury. “I didn’t set a fire in my own office, Captain Hartwell.”

He winced, apparently not expecting her use
of his title. “Why are your fingerprints on the can?”

Her eyes burnt with anger. “It’s my can!” Her
stomach spiraled.

He sighed with exasperation. “Explain why
yours are the only prints on the can.”

“I can’t.”

“How much is your insurance policy
worth?”

“Five hundred thousand dollars,” she said
smoothly, “but I can’t collect.”

He shot her a penetrating look. “Why
not?”

“My insurance policy lapsed.”

He studied her intently for a moment as if
analyzing her admission. “You let your insurance lapse?”

“I didn’t
let
my insurance do
anything. I was cancelled for non-compliance to the fire code. They
didn’t receive my certificates.”

He stared at her across a sudden ringing
silence. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Daggers flew from her eyes. “I figured you’d
remember eventually. I wasn’t expecting the building to burn!”

“You realize I have to verify that,” he
mumbled.

“Verify away. What’s a little more
humiliation?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Liberty
—”

“Stop! I can’t talk to you any more without
an attorney.”

He lifted his head, his ice-blue eyes
reflecting the tortured dullness of disbelief.

“I just want to know one thing.” Unspoken
pain clawed her.

He cocked his head to the side and shot her a
penetrating look.

“Did you sleep with me to get a
confession?”

A sudden icy contempt flashed in his eyes. “I
think you know the answer to that.”

“Do I?” She stabbed the air with accusation.
“You obviously believe I’m some sort of psycho bitch who plays with
fire. Why would I possibly think you slept with me for any other
reason?”

Her heart pounded violently as his accusation
tore at her insides. Her heart refused to believe the words he
spoke but his determination angered her.

“I made love to you, Liberty. I didn’t just
sleep with you.”

She pinned him with a skeptical stare. “I’m
sure that explanation makes you feel much better.”

She threw her head into her hands, trying
desperately to quiet her stomach.

“I need to know, Liberty, for Zach.”

She jumped up from the sofa and ran for the
bathroom. “Just leave, Shane,” she mumbled down the hallway.

Balling his fists, Shane fought his desire to
run after her. Arsonist or not, he loved her and the thought of her
suffering drove a knife into his heart. Outside the door, he dialed
his cell phone. She couldn’t be an arsonist, let alone a murderer.
But all the evidence pointed right at her. That left him no other
choice.

“Rawlings, I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor? Does it involve a
woman?”

“As a matter of fact, it does.”

“Oh yeah? Always willing to help a
friend.”

“I really hope you’ll help instead of make
things worse. I need you to keep an eye on Liberty.”

“I’m not a PI. If you think she’s cheating
—”

“Bite me, Rawlings. I need to be sure she’s
not the arsonist.”

Jake coughed and cleared his throat. “What?
You think
Liberty
is the arsonist?”

“That’s where all the evidence is leading
me.”

“No way. Evidence doesn’t always mean what it
shows,” Jake insisted. “Have you talked to her?”

He snorted. “I talked to her alright.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she didn’t do it.”

“You accused her?!” Jake squeaked. “Damn
Hartwell, your technique sucks.”

“Mine? You’re the one who’s been suspicious
from the beginning.”

“I have an excuse. I’m a detective. I’m paid
to be suspicious.”

He kicked a rock across the driveway,
accentuating the annoyance he felt with himself. “You’re the only
one I trust, Jake.”

“Fine, but I think you’re ape shit
crazy.”

“You don’t have anything else to do,” he
taunted.

Jake’s chuckle was somewhere between anger
and disbelief. “After all this is over, I have a feeling you’re not
going to have much to do either.”

He closed the distance to the fire station
with a long, slow cadence, an acute sense of loss spreading through
his defeated body. First his best friend and now Liberty. Fate
sucked.

He slung open the heavy door, plowing into
Maddie as he stepped inside.

“I need to talk to you, Shane.” She grabbed
him by the arm. “Alone. In your office.”

Pulling him inside behind her, she slammed
the door and threw the lock.

“Where’s Dylan?” She pulled down the shade on
the window of the door.

“He’s at the lab.”

She nodded and gestured for him to sit.

“Maddie, if this is about Liberty —”

“It is. Just listen to me before you feed
yourself another foot.”

He steepled his fingers against his chin.

“Liberty did not set the fire in her office.
I am one hundred percent positive.”

“And you know this because ...”

She bit her lip. “If I tell you how I know,
you cannot, under any circumstances, tell Dylan.”

“He’s helping with the investigation,
Maddie.”

She narrowed her eyes and poked him in the
chest with one finger. “I mean it, Hartwell, one word of this to
him and I’ll make your life a living hell.”

He shrugged.
Like it already
isn’t
.

“Swear, Shane.”

“Okay, fine. I swear.”

“I know Liberty didn’t set the fire because
she was with me. The whole night.”

He leaned forward, amazed at her
confession.

“Dylan said you’ve been staying alone,” he
said slowly.

“Yeah well, Dylan
thinks
I’ stay
alone. Liberty spends his on-call nights with me.”

He stared, at a loss for words. Not because
he didn’t already know Maddie’s secret, because she actually
admitted it.

“It helps both of us,” she continued. “She
doesn’t like the dark and I don’t want to be alone.”

“Can you prove it? I know the bond you and
Liberty share, Maddie.”

“Yes, I can prove it,” she spat. “The
hospital paged Liberty at two thirty a.m. We rode together in my
car. The security guard walked us to the Emergency Room and Liberty
swiped her badge at two forty five a.m.”

“I can ask Jake to pull the security log,” he
murmured.

“Look, Shane,” she said. “I realize you’re
just doing your job but you’re grasping for straws. Liberty’s
nature is to help people not hurt them. And you of all people
should know that.”

“Evidence doesn’t lie, Maddie,” he insisted,
attempting to hide his inner misery.