The Hunk Next Door (12 page)

“I can walk.”

“Absolutely not.” It might be the opening her enemies were looking for. Tossing cash onto the table, he escorted her through the pub with a hand at the small of her back.

Her poise and self-control impressed him. She carried her head high, her stride easy, but he felt the tension in her rigid posture and the tight muscles under his fingertips. Any more stressful surprises would break another person, but he didn’t think Abby would snap. Not now, not ever. While he admired her fortitude, he worried that her unyielding nature would only push the culprits behind this threat to up the ante. His concerns were justified as they reached the police station and found the end of the building closest to the employee parking area engulfed in flames.

“Some days I long for a world without YouTube,” she said as he parked across the street, well away from the responding firefighters.

“If the problem is a terrorist cell within Belclare, YouTube is irrelevant,” he pointed out. He turned, feeling her intense gaze on him. “What?”

“Again, not sounding like a typical construction worker.”

He shrugged that off. “I can read and I listen to the news. Besides, between the sign, the internet and your mention of Homeland Security, I’d have to be an ostrich not to come to that conclusion.”

“Of course.”

He’d made her wary again. Damn it. She was a smart woman and she must be picking up on more than his ability to connect a few dots between the details she had started to confide. “If you have questions for me I’ll answer them.” With the cover story, of course. This entire operation was about keeping her safe. To do that, he had to gain her trust.

She tore her gaze from the fire to study him. “I believe you would.” She opened the door. “But those questions will have to wait.”

He tagged along as she marched toward the fire chief supervising the process of dousing the flames. The fire chief kept her at a safe distance and, after a brief exchange, urged her toward the other cops who’d been unwillingly evicted from the police station. But she didn’t move, remaining apart and scowling at the blaze lapping along the roof.

“Did he tell you anything?”

“Only that they’ll have it contained shortly.”

“Good to know.”

Her fury was obvious. What she intended to do about it, not so much. She didn’t need speculation or suggestions from the new guy in town. He couldn’t decide what to do, other than his job. “I’ll take you home when you’re ready.”

“I’m not going anywhere until the building is secure.”

“I figured as much.”

She finally pulled her gaze away from the fire. “You don’t have to wait. One of the officers can take me home.”

“Waiting isn’t a problem.”

After another minute or two, she stalked over to the officers who’d been ousted from their building. Riley stayed put, having a pretty good idea of how that conversation would go. Instead of following her, which felt a little clingy and intrusive, he scanned the bystanders, looking for anything remotely suspicious. Spotting Mr. Filmore standing on the other side of the fire trucks, he headed that way.

“Hello, Mr. Filmore,” he said, hand extended.

The man squinted at him from behind his glasses. “Who—? Oh. You’re that decorator fellow.”

“That’s me.” Riley pushed his hands into his pockets, not surprised that Mr. Filmore refused to shake hands. People didn’t come wound any tighter than the man who obsessed about the historic accuracy of every snowflake in Belclare.

“Why are you here?”

Riley wanted to ask him the same question. “I was grabbing dinner at the pub and heard the commotion.” No sense giving him any ammunition to use against Abby later.

“Were you in the building?”

“Yes, of course,” Filmore said, wringing his hands. “I had another issue to discuss with Chief Jensen.”

“Is everything settled with the welcome sign?” It had been on the project board for this afternoon, but Riley had been with a different team at the park.

“As much as can be expected,” Filmore groused. “She has to
do
something!” He turned abruptly, the fire and emergency lights casting grim shadows across his pinched features. “This eyesore is intolerable.”

Exactly what did the man think Abby should do? Apologize to the criminals and terrorists? Grab a fire hose? “You’ll be surprised how fast we can clean things up. I’ll pitch in. Will you?”

Filmore ignored him. “This season is doomed to fail. Belclare may never recover.”

“The rest of the town looks fantastic,” Riley said. “I bet Chief Jensen is already planning how to keep everyone safe for Saturday’s opening.”

“I know your type,” Filmore said, shifting to put himself toe-to-toe with Riley. “Every year it takes more of you than last year. You say the right things, but you don’t care.”

Riley opened his mouth, but Filmore was on a roll.

“That building is eighty years old. I’ve personally overseen every so-called improvement of the past twenty-some years.” The garish lights emphasized Filmore’s wild eyes. “This is an unmitigated disaster all because of her!” He flung his arm in Abby’s direction. “She talks safety but she’s a hypocrite. That building does not deserve to suffer.”

The man was starting to sound a little warped to Riley. “Take it easy, Mr. Filmore.”

“Take it easy? She is single-handedly destroying this town.”

Riley fought the urge to put the man out of everyone’s misery. Two quiet punches and Mr. Filmore could rethink his priorities while his body learned how to function again.

Moving Filmore up on his list of potential suspects, Riley muttered some soothing nonsense in an attempt to calm the man down. Just when he thought he was making progress, Filmore launched into another tirade.

Before Riley could steer her away, Abby walked right into Filmore’s outburst. He pushed Riley aside and starting shouting at her.

“This is
your
fault!”

“Mr. Filmore—” she put a hand on his shoulder “—are you okay?”

He shrugged her off. “Absolutely not!”

“Would you like me to call over a paramedic?” She gave Riley a look to do it anyway.

Incensed, Mr. Filmore put himself right in her face and it took all of Riley’s self-control to abide by Abby’s signal to step back and let the man blow. He didn’t know how Abby put up with Filmore’s increasingly outrageous accusations.

“Mr. Filmore,” she said when he paused for air. “I am sorry for your distress. I know how much Belclare means to you.”

“You are a failure! This city has never been more unsafe. Opening weekend is ruined! The people of this town deserve better than you.”

Riley moved to intervene, ready to protect either Filmore or Abby. He wasn’t sure which one would need him more. The last thing he expected was for Abby to slip her arm through Mr. Filmore’s as if they were the best of friends. “I understand your concern. Have you seen the park yet?”

“Of course.”

“I think the decorating crew outdid themselves. Were you pleased?”

“Yes. But at this rate it will all go up in smoke tomorrow.”

Riley trailed after them, unwilling to leave her alone with a nut like Filmore. Riley might suggest she keep a few of the guys he’d been working with in town as extra security. He couldn’t be sure she’d accept the idea, but it could resolve part of her manpower issue. For two blocks, he considered ideas and solutions and what he had to share in his next report for Director Casey, and then they rounded the corner and all three of them stopped.

Memorial Park sat like a jewel in the heart of Belclare. The scent of fresh greenery laced the cold air and out here, the burning police station might as well be on a different planet. Logically, he knew it was the breeze from the water blowing the acrid smoke in the opposite direction, but the effect was stunning.

“Isn’t this lovely, Mr. Filmore? It looks just like those pictures from the 1940s.”

“It does,” he allowed, his voice tight. “The decorators did well here.”

Riley kept his mouth shut so he wouldn’t blow the progress Abby was making.

“I agree.” Abby’s voice was steady and calm in the brittle air. “Tourists will love this, they’ll flock here, taking pictures and making memories. Belclare will be fine.”

“But the burned-out station is an eyesore,” he moaned.

“You know what I didn’t see at the station?”

“What?”

“I didn’t see any flames on the front of the building.”

Riley realized she was right. The roof had been burning as well as the back, but the facade hadn’t been on fire. In fact the displays in front of the building were mostly intact.

“The police department may have to take up temporary residence at Sadie’s for a few days,” Abby offered, “but at first glance the tourists won’t know the difference.”

“You sound so sure,” Filmore mumbled.

“I am. The buildings you protect so well, the structures you speak for, were here long before either of us. Thanks to your dedication, they will be here long after we’re gone. Tonight’s setback notwithstanding.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

Riley was sure he heard tears in Filmore’s voice.

“These have been trying times,” she added graciously, “but we’ll get through it. Together.”

Filmore stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk and Riley braced for trouble.

“Yes, it will take both of us to get this done,” Filmore agreed. He reached over and covered her gloved hand with his. “Belclare means so much to me, Chief Jensen. My apologies.”

Riley didn’t like the tone and his mind ran off in conspiratorial directions over Filmore’s phrasing.

But Abby just smiled at the older man. “Sometimes those things that mean the most drive us to do things we never dreamed ourselves capable of doing,” she said.

“There are times for extreme measures.”

“Yes.” She turned them back toward Main Street, back toward the mess and destruction of the fire.

Riley noticed how the Belclare police officers had managed to spread out at even intervals, on both sides of the street.

“Sometimes when we care so much about a cause, we’re willing to hurt the people and places we love,” she continued.

Filmore flinched and tried to pull free of Abby’s grip, but she held firm. “I don’t know what you mean,” he protested. “Release me.”

“Mr. Filmore, I can’t do that.” With her free hand, she motioned to one of the men across the street. “Martin Filmore, you are under arrest for arson.”

She started to read him his rights, but he interrupted. “Stop this at once. This is absurd.” He rubbed his gloved hands together. “I—I was in the police station when the fire started.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said, and then continued reading his rights.

“Chief Jensen, I love that old building. You know I could never do such a heinous thing.”

Riley noticed tears rolling down the older man’s cheeks as he was crying in earnest now. The denials were tumbling free. If Filmore was guilty, he did a fine job portraying an emotionally distraught innocent bystander. He would have to send this up the line to Director Casey immediately.

“I know you’d never want to.” Abby let him ramble as another officer stepped up to cuff him and help him gently into the back of a cruiser. With the police station on fire, where they would question him was anyone’s guess.

When Filmore was gone and the firefighters finished a final walk-through, Abby returned to the truck. “You stayed.”

He opened the passenger door for her. “Said I would.”

“I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” He closed her door and walked around the hood, slid in behind the steering wheel. Throughout the ordeal, she hadn’t shown any of the weariness she clearly felt now. “Why did you arrest him?”

“The officers on duty said he was squirrely and he kept eyeing my office where they believe the fire started.”

Riley’s jaw clenched. Everyone in town knew she frequently worked late. Did she realize Filmore might’ve killed her? And if she hadn’t been in the office, starting the fire there would reflect badly on her, further damaging her reputation.

“On top of those circumstantial points,” she continued, “he’d been at the station this morning for a meeting about the graffiti. He had access to the office and he doesn’t usually bother me twice in one week, much less in a day.”

Riley thought about the detonators. “Did you see him plant anything in your office?”

“No, but I was effectively distracted by a few other issues.”

“Filmore strikes me as a high-maintenance kind of guy.”

“If he did set the fire, and that seems likely, that makes him the kind of guy who’s managed to deceive me for years.” He heard the sorrow in her voice, knew she was wondering who else was fooling her. “While I’m happy to remove a problem, it’s hard to wrap my head around the idea that Filmore was arranging drug deals and hurling those other threats at me.”

“I can’t see him toppling Calder’s ladder,” Riley said.

“Agreed.”

“What’s next?” She looked so tired he wished he could take her home.

“First a warrant for Filmore’s house,” she explained, her voice weary. “Then, as soon as we have any real evidence, I’ll have to write up something for the feds.”

“Do you want me to take you to Filmore’s?”

“No. They don’t need me hovering. My officers are good at what they do.” She sighed and leaned her head back against the seat. “Right now I just want to get home and sink into a tub full of bubbles.”

Well, there was an image that would be haunting him all night. Developments and reports could only offer so much distraction from the thought of Abby’s naked body covered only by fragile bubbles. Right next door. At least, she was calling it a night. A good night’s sleep would go a long way. Not that he’d be getting any shut-eye.

There were other questions he could ask, but he kept them to himself. He didn’t want to pile on any more than he already had, even in the role of curious neighbor. He would leave the nosing around to Mrs. Wilks. For tonight anyway.

Arresting Filmore, admitting Homeland Security might be right about a homegrown terrorist cell operating in Belclare wouldn’t be easy developments for Abby to accept. This was her town, after all. No one wanted to believe they didn’t recognize evil when they saw it.