Ride the Fire (10 page)

My nightmare, not hers.

He should do something. Take this out of her hands, because she didn’t deserve any of this. His past, his present shit. None of it. Yet he was paralyzed. The horrible photo brought back that night like it was yesterday.

The flames.

The stench of gasoline and burned flesh.

His wife’s license plate curling, blackening.

He lurched out of the chair, gasping, clutching his chest. The memory was a razor blade to his throat, slicing deep the way he wished he could slice his wrists.

Parents expected they’d die before their children. Not
with
them.

Why my son, my baby girl? Why?

“Sean! Honey, look at me.” Strong fingers dug into his shoulders. “Look at me, now!”

Her voice penetrated his self-inflicted hell and he stared into her face, the fog lifting. Until then, he hadn’t realized he was standing by the deck railing, hands fisted in his hair as though ready to pull it out by the roots. Gradually, he relaxed, dropping his hands to his sides . . . when what he really wanted to do was to take her in his arms and never let go.

“You’re going to get through this, you hear me?” Her worried face hovered close to his. Beautiful.

“Do you see now why I don’t want to drag you into my shit?” he rasped. “Do you get it?”

“Come inside and sit down.”

“But I—”

“Hush.”

She pulled him inside, through the kitchen and into the living room. Pushed him down onto the sofa and he didn’t resist. His legs just sort of surrendered and he sank, defeated. Her footsteps moved off in the direction of the kitchen and he heard her rustle in the fridge, remove a glass from the cupboard. In a few seconds she returned, holding out a glass of juice, which he took with a question in his eyes.

“Apple,” she said. “It’ll go easier on your stomach than coffee.”

That wasn’t the main question on his mind. “Why are you taking such good care of me, especially after I ran off this morning?”

“I’m into pain.”

His lips curved into a half smile at the joke. “Inflicting or receiving?”

“Well, I’d thought receiving, but I might’ve changed my mind. Might want to inspect that apple juice carefully, and keep me away from sharp objects.”

“I’m amazed you can joke with me after what I pulled.”

“What else am I supposed to do? My hair shirt is at the cleaner’s.” The sadness in her eyes was quickly covered, her expression neutralizing.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Let’s get the detective up to speed on your situation before we worry about anything else, okay?”

He sighed, staring into his unwanted juice. If he pretended it was a few shades darker and tasted like Jack, it might go down better. Fat chance.

He hated what he’d done to her this morning. Hated
himself
. But God, he was scared. No, terrified. To let any woman in, to let her matter.

Because he’d never survive another loss.

The doorbell saved him from another round of self-flagellation, and he rose, setting down his glass. “I’ll get it.” Now that the shock was subsiding a bit, he wasn’t willing to act like a helpless victim in his own home, and in front of a stranger.

He opened the door to find a man with dark blond hair and brown eyes, not as tall as himself, but close. More muscular, too, built like he could put a man on the ground without much effort, if necessary. And the guarded expression in his eyes, the tense stance that appeared natural to him, suggested he’d done just that a time or three.

“Captain Sean Tanner, Sugarland Fire Department,” he said, offering his hand with a smile. Or what he hoped passed for one.

The man’s tension bled out some, and he shook the offered hand with a return smile that made him appear much more approachable. Even friendly. “Detective Taylor Kayne. I understand you’ve got a slight problem, some harassment going on.”

Sean nodded. “I hope that’s all it amounts to, but that’s what I’d like you to tell me, given your expertise. Come on in.”

The detective stepped inside, his gaze going straight to Eve and settling on her. Sean moved around him to stand next to Eve, bristling inwardly at the man’s rather frank appreciation of the woman in front of him. As Kayne introduced himself and shook her hand, Sean edged closer to her and draped an arm over her shoulders. He felt her stiffen in surprise and sensed her glance at him, but his attention was on the cop.

Let Detective Muscles admire the view all he wanted—from afar. Real fucking far.

And yeah, that gasping noise was his resolve to remain
just friends
dying a swift death.

Shit.

“Can I get you some coffee?” Eve asked the man.

Sean tried not to frown and barely managed to keep to himself that the detective wouldn’t be there long enough to enjoy it.

“That would be great. Thanks.” The cop beamed at her, and she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Have a seat, Detective.” Sean gestured to the easy chair at one end of the coffee table and took up a seat on the sofa.

To his credit, the cop wasted no time getting to business, removing a small notepad and a pen from the pocket of his long-sleeved shirt.

“I’m surprised you guys aren’t using electronic devices of some sort to take your notes on by now,” he commented.

Kayne looked up from scribbling something at the top of a page. “To me, nothing beats good old pen and paper, at least in the field. Then I transfer my notes on each case to computer, expand on clues, interviews, my own observations, and such while the details are fresh. It’s a system that works for most of us.”

“Do you ever run into any trouble?” he asked, curious. The cop didn’t look like a man who got his build from a gym membership.

“You kidding?” He laughed. “Nine times out of ten
nobody
is happy to see me coming, unlike your job. Got scars from a knife and two bullets to prove it.”

“I’ll remember that next time I think I’ve had a bad day.”

Eve returned with the man’s coffee, and he thanked her politely. After handing over the mug, she took a seat on the other side of Sean, with him planted firmly between her and the detective. Not that he’d left her enough room to sit anywhere else, and a secret part of him smirked.

It vanished quickly, however, as Kayne began the interview.

“Captain Tanner, give me a rundown of what’s been going on. I got only a brief version from my colleague Shane Ford.” All his attention was now focused solely on Sean. When it came to his job, the man obviously didn’t allow any distractions of the female variety. A major point in his favor.

Sean steeled himself against reliving the story, and knew keeping it factual was the only way he’d get through the telling. “Almost two years ago, my wife, son, and daughter were killed in a traffic accident. At least I thought it was an accident until I received a call on my cell phone at work on Friday.”

“Who was driving the car?”

He swallowed hard. “My son. He drove into the back of an eighteen-wheeler that was parked on the shoulder of the highway.”
It should’ve been me.

“I’m very sorry.” The detective sounded sincere, and gave Sean a few moments before he continued. “What did the caller say?”

“He said, ‘Did you ever ask yourself, what if it wasn’t an accident?’ It took me a few seconds to make the connection as to what he could possibly be talking about.”

“He? You’re sure?”

“Yes. But his voice was low and there was a lot of background noise. I couldn’t identify him.”

The detective’s pen paused over the paper. “What sort of background noise? People talking, car horns, dishes clanking? Anything that stands out would be a help, especially if it indicates a specific place.”

He thought back, concentrated hard. Put himself in the moment and . . .

“Road noise,” he said. “Like when someone has a window open and you can hear the whine of the wheels on pavement, cars rushing past going the other way? And a radio with music playing. Heavy metal.”

“You’re certain?”

“As sure as I can be without having been there, yes.”

“Okay, so we think he was on the move, possibly traveling. This is good.” He paused, pen tapping the paper. “You didn’t delete the incoming number, did you?”

“No. I started to, but something told me to keep it.”

“Excellent. Get your phone and let me get the number off there. I’m playing a hunch.”

“Which is?” Sean rose.

“The phone was one of those disposable jobs, or it was stolen. If it was stolen, we’ll have his last known location, that being the city or town he stole it from. Perhaps even the exact location of the theft.”

“That won’t tell us who we’re dealing with.”

“Not directly, no. But it would give us a map of where he’s been as well as a time line, particularly if he made other calls. One more piece of the big picture.”

Quickly, he retrieved his phone from the kitchen counter and scrolled through the received calls. There weren’t many, and he found the one in question with no problem.

“This one,” he said, walking over and handing the phone to the detective. The man took the phone, jotted the number down, and gave it back to Sean. “Thanks. I’ll follow up on this number, see what turns up.” He pinned Sean with his brown gaze. “Detective Ford tells me you were a witness to the accident that took your family.”

Oh, Jesus. Help me.
“Yes. I was on shift and we got the call.”

“I’m going to ask you to tell me about that night. Believe me, it’s necessary or I wouldn’t ask,” he said quietly. “Just take your time.”

Sean wavered, emotion threatening to silence his voice. But Eve’s hand gripped his and he found the courage to recount the evening, in horrid detail, every event beginning with Blair being pissed that he missed Bobby’s important game, to passing out cold when he realized the burning car belonged to his wife. When he finished, he was certain there was no blood left in the hand that was clinging to Eve’s, and he struggled not to give in to the black spots dancing in front of his vision.

“I know how hard that must’ve been,” Kayne said, his gaze sympathetic. “Just a couple more questions along this line, I promise. Okay?”

Sean nodded, and the man continued.

“You said your wife was really angry that you elected to work overtime instead of attending your son’s game, and that she made a heated remark along the lines of, ‘If you can’t appreciate what you have, someone else will.’ Do you have any idea what she meant by that?”

God. Here was one wound he hadn’t bared before. Absolutely no one knew what he’d suspected and hoped would never have to see the light of day. What if he was wrong?

What if you’re not?

In the end, Blair was gone and couldn’t be hurt by speculation. She would’ve bared the truth herself if it meant justice for her children.

“At the time, I thought . . . I believed my wife might be having an affair.”

Eve sucked in a breath, but the detective showed no reaction at all. Sean figured the man had heard much worse.

“Were there any other indicators you considered red flags?”

“Yeah. There were small things that added up, stuff I didn’t want to acknowledge at first. I’d spent a lot of time thinking about her leaving for work early, staying late. She came from family money, but she had built a lucrative career as an advertising exec. Suddenly her cell phone was off-limits to me. Sometimes she’d get a text message and claim it was a client. Those sorts of things. But no actual smoking gun, and after she was gone, there wasn’t any point in finding out.”

“I don’t suppose you still have her phone, computer, things that might yield clues?”

Sean stared at him. “Her computer is still in her office. I haven’t touched it since before the funeral. We think her ”BlackBerry burned in the wreck, but the rest of her stuff is probably in a box somewhere in the basement with her clothes and other belongings. I don’t know because I didn’t pack them—my team at the station did.”

“All right. I don’t need to see them right now, but don’t get rid of those items just yet, if you don’t mind.”

“I . . . sure.”

“Back to the harassment.” The cop flipped a sheet of paper on his pad. “Tell me about the items you received here.”

“This morning I found a package sitting on the ground beside the mailbox. That’s a little unusual because the mail carrier will normally bring oversized packages to the house and leave them on the porch by the front door. When I brought it inside, I noticed it didn’t have a postmark on it, that whoever it was from had brought it by instead of mailing it.”

The detective’s brows lifted and his expression clearly communicated what he thought of that move. “And you opened it anyway? Brilliant. You could’ve been blown to pieces.”

Sean glanced at Eve and winced at the fear on her face before looking back to Kayne. “I’m not used to thinking like a cop, Detective. I’ve probably alienated some people in the department because of the mistakes I’ve made, but I never considered getting threats. And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to find a bottle of whiskey and a photo of the accident scene.”