Tender Is The Night (5 page)

"And after?"

"I obliterated the line. I was reckless and stupid. I was lucky I didn't end up in jail."

"It's not too late. You may end up there yet if you keep butting into investigations that you're not a part of."

His smile faded. "Is that what Hal told you?"

"It's what he told me to tell you," she said pointedly. "He's worried about you, Devin. He thinks you threw your career away. He's hoping that once you've gotten over your grief you'll realize that you're chasing air and that you'll come back."

"Chasing air," he echoed. "That's exactly what he said to me. There was a time when Hal would have done exactly what I'm doing."

"Really?" she asked, thinking that her boss was one of the most rigid, controlled men she'd ever met. "Agent Roman is definitely not a loose cannon."

Devin shrugged. "Years ago, he was more of a rebel, but it doesn't matter what Hal thinks or has to say. I know what I'm doing. And I will prove all the doubters wrong."

She set the last half of her pizza on her plate. "Tell me about the most recent fire, the one that got you on the phone to Agent Roman."

"It happened on Monday at St. Bernadette's, a Catholic high school. It started in a half-empty Dumpster that had been moved against the building, next to the windows of the counseling office. The fire was estimated to have been set around one o'clock in the morning, which fits the patterns of all the other school fires."

"But that isn't significant," she countered. "I suspect stats would prove that most arson events happen after midnight."

"A good percentage," he agreed, "but still a common link."

"So there was no break-in?"

"A brick was thrown through the window of the counseling office. No fingerprints."

"It sounds to me like an angry student."

"That's what the fire department believes," he said evenly. "Do you want to stop there? Go back to Hal tomorrow and tell him I have nothing?"

She frowned. "Hang on. I'm not rushing out the door. I'm just processing the information. I've only been on this case about five minutes. If you weren't following a pattern of fires, you would have made that as your first suggestion, too." She paused, seeing something in his eyes that told her she didn't have the entire story. "What haven’t you told me yet?"

"There was a St. Christopher's medal found near the Dumpster. At two of the other school fires, and one community center blaze, a St. Christopher's medal was found near the scene."

"That's a little more interesting. What's the time gap between fires?"

"Four to seven days between first and second fires. Three to six days between second and third fires, but all three occur within a three-to-four week period from start to finish."

She sat back in her chair and sighed, feeling a little weary, not just from her cross-country flight earlier in the day but also the last few weeks of intense investigative work. She needed to think and sleep and then think some more. "All right."

"All right—what?" he echoed.

"I'm in. I'll help you."

"Isn't that what you were ordered to do?"

She made a face at him. "I was given some latitude, just in case you turned out to be completely crazy."

"So you think I'm sane?"

"I didn't say that," she said, meeting his gaze. "I don't know you well enough to make that determination, but I want to know more. What's your next move?"

"I've been trying to get a meeting with the local fire investigator on the school fire, but every time I call, he's in a meeting."

"Who's the investigator?"

"Paul Bilson. Do you know him?"

"I don't, but I can call Emma and see what she knows."

"If she's willing to talk to you, that would be great."

"She'll definitely be willing to talk to me. I don't believe anyone in the fire department is deliberately letting a firebug roam free in the city. I grew up with firefighters. They risk their lives every day to protect the community from fire."

"I understand the service of the fire department, and, on occasion, their sacrifice," he said, meeting her gaze. "My anger overshadowed some of my common sense in the immediate aftermath of Sam's murder. I'm sure I said some things that were based more on emotion than anything else. Here's what I believe now. It's about resources and odds. They don't want to open up a case they think is solved. They have enough open cases to work on. Arson is hard to prove. There are only so many investigators to go around. I understand bureaucracy, Kate, but I don't have to like it. And I do believe that in the early days some people made mistakes, and it's possible others covered them up or just believed the wrong conclusions, but that doesn't matter. I'm not trying to find a scapegoat, I'm trying to find an arsonist—an arsonist I believe is still alive."

For the first time he sounded completely reasonable, which gave her some hope that he wasn't letting guilt and loyalty cloud his judgment.

"All right. I'll call Emma in the morning." She got to her feet. "I need to go. I've been up since five this morning, and it's been a long few weeks."

Devin stood up. "Where are you staying?"

She hesitated. "I'm not sure yet. I think I'm going to crash at my brother's place. But that depends on how persuasive I can be."

Devin smiled. "I doubt very many people say no to you."

"Trust me, it happens a lot. You said no to me earlier," she reminded him.

"Yeah, and look where we are," he drawled. "Somehow that no turned into a yes."

"Because I'm good."

"Someday I'm going to need actual proof to back that up," he said, a small smile playing around his lips.

The look that passed between them was far more personal than it should have been, and the memory of that look followed her all the way out to the car.

Four

"I won't be any trouble," Kate told her older brother Ian, a half hour later. He had responded to her request to stay at his apartment with a decidedly irritated frown.

Ian ran a hand through his dark brown hair and blinked the sleep out of his blue eyes. "You're always trouble. What the hell time is it anyway?"

"It's only ten. Were you asleep?" she asked, pushing past him.

She put her carry-on suitcase against the wall and let out a breath as she looked around the simply furnished and very neat apartment. She'd definitely made the right decision in picking Ian's place to crash at. Her other brothers—Dylan and Hunter—were slobs. But Ian had always had an orderly mind, which was probably why he was such a renowned scientist.

"Rough month," he said, closing the door behind her. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming until next week."

"My plans changed."

"Why aren't you staying at Mom's?"

"Because she has all the out-of-town cousins arriving soon for Mia's wedding, whereas you have this beautiful new condo, and an extra bedroom." She wandered over to the window, impressed by the view of San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. "This place is awesome. You must be making some nice cash these days." She gave him an inquisitive gaze, which he pointedly ignored.

"Why are you in town so early?" he asked. "Did the FBI kick you out?"

"Hardly. I haven't had a vacation since I started last year. I was due."

He moved over to join her at the window, but his thoughtful eyes were on her and not the view. And like always, Ian saw too much. "You look like shit, Katie. When did you sleep last?"

"On the plane out here," she said, not bothering to mention that before that she hadn't slept for three nights straight. Which was one reason why her boss had sent her out to San Francisco early. It wasn't just to do him a favor and help Devin; it was because she needed a break from the intense treadmill she'd been on.

"Why do you really want to stay with me?" Ian asked. "Truth."

She should have figured he wouldn't accept her explanation at face value. She'd never been able to get anything past Ian. "I have to check in on something work-related while I'm in San Francisco, and you know how nosy Mom can be. Plus, Hunter and Dylan's apartment is disgusting, and Annie has two roommates, so there's nowhere to sleep." She gave him a smile. "But this place is beautiful and quiet, and you have an extra bedroom, right?"

"It's my office, but there's a couch in there you can sleep on."

"So I can stay?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked, running a weary hand through his hair.

"No. Speaking of people who look like shit…what have you been up to?"

"I'm working on something that's involving some long nights, but if we can make it happen, it's going to save a lot of lives."

"Can you tell me more about it? You're always so cagey about your job."

"I'll tell you when it happens."

She sighed. "Fine. Be secretive."

"Look who's talking," he returned.

"Do you have anything to drink?"

"Juice or something stronger?"

"Juice sounds good."

She followed him into the modern, gourmet kitchen, looking through his cupboards while he poured her a glass of orange-pineapple juice. She pulled out a box of cereal and grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge.

"Make yourself at home," he said dryly.

She gave him an unrepentant shrug. Growing up in a family with five siblings, it had always been every man for himself. Both her parents had worked so she and her brothers and sisters had learned to take care of themselves.

"So what's this work thing you have to do?" Ian asked, giving her a speculative gaze. "You're going to get me into the middle of something, aren't you?"

"No, of course not," she said, pouring milk on her cereal, then taking the bowl over to the kitchen island.

"Why don't I believe you? When you're around, things tend to get exciting."

"Not anymore. I'm much more thoughtful now that I'm a special agent."

He laughed. "I doubt that. How do you like working for the FBI? Is it what you thought it would be?"

"It's not at all what I thought it would be. Every day is different. Sometimes I'm doing nothing but boring paperwork or spending hours on surveillance, and other days I'm in the middle of the action, breaking down doors, searching for terrorists, calling in bomb experts."

"That sounds dangerous."

"There have only been a few scary moments. Most of the time it's pretty routine." She paused. "Enough about me. What's up with you?"

"Just work."

"What about women?"

Ian shrugged, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the counter. "Who has time?"

"Most healthy, young, single men under the age of thirty-five. What about Vanessa?" she asked, referencing a woman he'd been seeing the year before.

"She said I wasn't fun anymore," he replied. "She wasn't wrong. I've had my mind on other things, important things. She and her friends do nothing but bar hop on the weekends. They start drinking at ten in the morning and are wasted by dinnertime. I'm just not in that mode anymore."

"Not that you ever were." Ian was thirty-two and the second oldest of her siblings. He'd always been the most responsible one in the family. He was just too smart to do all the dumb things the rest of them had done. "How's everyone else in the family? Are Dylan and Hunter staying out of trouble?"

"Dylan seems to have his head on straight. Hunter—who knows? Last I heard, he was going on vacation to try helicopter skiing."

"What is that?"

"As far as I know, you get dropped out of a helicopter on an unreachable mountain peak, and you ski down."

"Sounds insane."

"That's Hunter."

"You'd think he'd get enough of an adrenaline rush from charging into burning buildings."

"You'd think." He moved away from the counter. "I have to get some sleep."

"Go ahead. I'll be quiet."

He paused in the doorway. "You know, Mom is going to kill you if she finds out you're in the city and didn't tell her."

"Then let's make sure she doesn't find out."

* * *

As Kate walked down the hall of the building where San Francisco's Fire Investigative Unit was housed, she thought about her conversation with her brother the night before. If she didn't want her mom to know she was in town, speaking to Emma was a risk. But if she wanted to help Devin solve his case, she had to take the chance.

While Emma was an outgoing, blue-eyed blonde who tended to meddle in everyone's business with good-natured affection, she was also good at keeping a confidence. She'd keep their conversation private if Kate asked her to, and she intended to do just that.

After pausing at a reception desk, she was waved down another hall. She knocked on a glass door, seeing Emma sitting behind one of the two desks in the room. Thankfully, the other desk was empty. She wanted to have this conversation with Emma in private.

She pushed open the door, ready to greet her cousin with a big, happy grin when she saw Emma dab at her eyes and then force a smile onto her tense face.

"Hey, Em," she said, crossing the room as Emma got to her feet.

"Kate," Emma said. "What a surprise! How are you?"

"I'm good." She gave Emma a hug, followed up by a speculative look. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Emma said, blinking her watery blue eyes.

"You were crying."

"I had some dust in my eye. What brings you here?" Emma added, as she sat down behind her desk.

Kate took the chair in front of the desk. "Before we get into that, you have to tell me what's wrong, because clearly something is off. It's not Max, is it? Your husband is still treating you right?"

"Max is great. He adores me. I adore him. I've never been so happy."

"I might believe you if you didn't look like you were about to cry."

"I'm just having a moment."

"Why?"

Emma sighed. "You can't tell anyone in the family, Kate."

"I won't. I promise."

"I had a miscarriage two days ago. It was super early. I was barely pregnant. I shouldn't be this upset."

"I'm so sorry," she said, wanting to give her cousin another hug, but the desk was between them, and Emma seemed almost too fragile to take the sympathy.