Riggs gritted his teeth as Kate rushed to answer the door. Dammit, if he hadn’t misread the situation, Kate had been about to kiss him.
He could still feel her gentle fingers on his cheek. He wanted to feel them in other places, his bare chest, his back, his hips...
He wanted to return the favor and erase the fear in her eyes with pleasure.
“Yes, please come on in,” Kate was saying to the consultant from the security company.
She avoided eye contact with Riggs as she led the uniformed man inside.
Fool. Kate had simply felt sorry for him because of his confession. Nothing more.
Jaw tight, he cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Kate. Where’s your toolbox?”
“The garage.” Unease flickered in her eyes. Regret?
Tamping down his lust, he strode to the door leading to her garage, leaving her alone to deal with the security consultant.
Her garage was neat and organized. Gardening tools in one section, a bike in the corner, camping gear in another. A wall of shelves housed her toolbox and other supplies.
Living alone had obviously taught Kate to be independent. He wondered why she’d never married and had a family. Kate seemed like she’d have a passel of kids. Did she have a boyfriend hiding in the woodwork?
If so, where was he now?
Disturbed at the possibility, Riggs carried the toolbox and ladder outside and tackled the repair job.
Just as he finished, the scent of smoke assaulted him.
Senses jumping to alert, he climbed higher on the ladder and surveyed Kate’s property. Nothing on fire in the yard.
But... God. In the woods behind her house, smoke curled into the sky and flames licked at the trees and brush, burning through the forest as the wind picked up and fueled its path.
At the rate it was going and with the direction of the wind, it would take no time for it to reach the houses in Kate’s neighborhood.
Sweat beaded his skin and he snagged his phone and called the fire station. His captain answered on the third ring.
“A fire at Kate McKendrick’s house,” Riggs said.
“Someone else called it in already. We’re on our way,” his boss said.
Riggs didn’t like how close it was to Kate’s. “I’ll meet you there.”
He ended the call, jumped from the ladder and rushed to tell Kate where he was going. The fire could have started accidentally.
But considering what had happened with Kate’s car and the threats she’d received, it could have been meant for Kate.
THE SECURITY CONSULTANT was installing the alarm pad in her bedroom when Kate glanced through the sliders in her den and noticed smoke. The gray cloud swirled above the treetops, weaving through the spiny needles of the pines and spiraling into the dark sky.
A second later, Riggs rushed in, his face a mask of professionalism although his eyes suggested he wasn’t as calm as he appeared.
“The woods—”
“I just saw the smoke,” Kate said.
“I’m going to meet my unit there. With the wind gusts, we need to contain it fast.”
Kate sucked in a breath. Riggs’s job meant running into burning buildings on a daily basis, but the thought of him battling that blaze in the woods sent a streak of terror through her.
“Will you be okay here?” Riggs asked.
Kate couldn’t believe he was worried about her when he was the one who faced danger every day. “I’ll be fine, Riggs. But you need to be careful.”
“Always am, Kate. I know what I’m doing.”
Of course he did. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.”
A smile deepened the grooves at the corner of his mouth, replacing that brooding look and showcasing that sexy dimple. He reached out and stroked her arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”
She said a silent prayer that he would be as he rushed out the door. Nerves on edge, she walked to the sliding-glass doors, opened them and stepped outside. The scent of smoke, burning wood and charred grass wafted toward her, clogging the fresh mountain air.
The wind picked up again, blowing through the trees and pushing the fire her way. She heard the distant sound of a siren wailing, and imagined Riggs’s team descending on the blaze, working to protect her and others in the fire’s wake.
Riggs had been such a tease in high school, always cracking jokes and flirting. She’d never imagined he had a serious side. Although, after the shooting, he’d been in pain and had to do physical therapy.
You also didn’t know he was dyslexic. You just assumed his good looks and cocky attitude meant he was full of himself. But maybe it was an act to cover his insecurities.
No... Riggs didn’t have an insecure bone in his body.
Except he had seemed vulnerable when he’d confided about being teased. And one lesson they all should have learned from Ned was not to assume anything, to dig deeper and uncover what was really going on in a person’s head, not to judge someone on the sake of appearances.
“Ma’am, I’m finished.”
The consultant’s voice broke the silence and Kate closed the sliding-glass door.
“Let me show you the ins and outs,” he said, eyes darting to the clouds of smoke above the tree line. “I also installed the doorbell camera as you requested.”
Relief spilled through Kate. At least she would know if someone tried to break in. “Thank you.”
He spent the next half hour explaining the ins and outs of the system and then asked for a security code word.
Kate glanced at the sliding doors again, her heart pounding at the sight of the flames ripping through the woods.
In spite of the fear clawing at her, she chose the word Hopeful.
There’s always hope for good, her mother used to say.
Kate intended to cling to her mother’s mantra as long as she lived.
RIGGS SUITED UP as soon as he made it to the side of the road where the fire trucks were parked. Acres of wooded property and farmland dotted the mountainous area. Tall pines, oaks and evergreens climbed upward, the first signs of summer evident in the wildflowers pushing through the green. White blossoms from the dogwoods looked like snow as they fluttered to the ground, and birds soared above, returning from their winter trek to the south.
His fellow firefighters were already busy rolling hoses as far as they could reach. A special team had been called to fly above and unleash water on the blaze.
Containment was key for the safety of the residents who lived nearby.
They weren’t ordering evacuations yet, but if the blaze spread another mile and the winds gained speed, the houses in Kate’s neighborhood would be in serious danger.
So would Kate.
“Do we know cause yet?” he asked Brian who’d arrived first on the scene with Riggs’s coworkers.
“Not yet,” Brian said. “So far, it’s spread about a quarter of a mile through the woods. The volunteer team from the neighboring county is on its way. We need all the manpower we can get.”
“Be on the lookout for signs of arson,” Riggs said as he strapped on his helmet.
Brian frowned. “You think it was intentional?”
Riggs shrugged. He didn’t want to elaborate yet, but they had to consider all scenarios. “It’s possible.”
Although, if the fire had nothing to do with Kate, and it was arson, it could have been set to cover up a crime. It was one of the most common causes of arson.
With bitterness pervading the town and former classmates returning, who knew what old vendettas might come into play. Stones had been cast after the shooting, friendships shattered, blame tossed around like live grenades.
Riggs and the men dove into their work, attacking the blaze and tracking it through the woods, creating barriers and soaking the grounds in the fire’s path. Others worked to dump water on the flames, a second plane joining the first to cover more territory.
He lost track of time as they worked, simply went into autopilot. Sweat beaded his skin and trickled down his neck, the thickening smoke making it imperative to breathe through his mask. Tree limbs cracked and popped, the heat intensifying. He and his coworkers dodged the falling fiery debris as it snapped off with the weight of the water assaulting the flames.
His boots smashed dying embers, twigs and brush soaked by the water, the scent of fire all around him. Riggs worked for a good two hours with his crew before the blaze began to die down and the air became clear enough to see in front of him.
“The fire is contained,” the chief said over Riggs’s mic. “I repeat, it’s contained, but we’ll monitor it overnight.”
Riggs and Brian traded relieved looks. “Do you have any idea the point of origin?” Riggs asked.
“We have a general idea,” Brian murmured.
The chief spoke again. “Sheriff Stone is at the scene. He’s calling in deputies to cordon off and guard the area until we can search for forensics and an accelerant.”
So far, Riggs hadn’t detected the scent of gasoline. But he could be a half mile from point of origin.
“Thanks for the assist,” Brian said as they stowed their gear on the truck. “Hope we didn’t tear you away from a hot date.”
Riggs made a low sound in his throat. He wished to hell he had been on a date with Kate. But she’d probably turn him down if he asked.
Then another disturbing thought struck him. Perhaps the arsonist set the fire to lure Riggs and the police away from her.
Dammit.
He had to get back and check on Kate.
KATE SHOULD HAVE felt safe with the new security system intact, but each time she looked outside at the smoke-filled sky, her heart pounded with fear for Riggs.
Needing to stay busy, she spent over an hour on the paperwork she’d brought home. Stone’s request for the list of students she’d had trouble with nagged at her, so she’d powered up her laptop and run a search for students that had required disciplinary action.
First, a group of kids caught smoking pot in the parking lot: a senior girl and two sophomore boys. She’d suspended them for three days, conferenced with their parents, and allowed them to return to school on probation. The teens had been upset, but they were loners and pacifists, free thinkers and nonconformists that’d never exhibited signs of violence.
Next, she looked at minor infractions—skipping school, cheating, pranks, smoking—but again, none of those students would retaliate with such a degree of violence.
She drummed her fingernails on her lap then examined three students caught fighting in the cafeteria. The first, Darius Holbrook, had moved to Tennessee the second semester. His parents claimed kids were bullying their son and he’d fought back in self-defense. Kate had checked out the story and found it was true, so she’d taken action against the bullies and required them to attend counseling.
She hadn’t received reports of their fighting since.
The graffiti incident taunted her. Don Gaines had been at the school, where, she also knew, he’d excelled in art class. She searched for reports of him causing trouble or being involved in any incident of violence. He had been caught smoking in the bathrooms and outside the school. The first time, cigarettes, the second time, weed.
She didn’t want to believe Brynn’s brother would try to scare her by graffitiing that threat on the side of the school.
Still, Don disliked her. Maybe he knew she was the reason Ned had gone ballistic and shot his sister. The entire family had suffered and been traumatized because of Brynn’s paralysis. Mrs. Gaines had always doted on Brynn. No doubt the shooting and Brynn’s injury had made that worse. She’d always had high expectations for Brynn. How had she handled the disappointment that Brynn wouldn’t walk again? Had she given her attention to Don instead and smothered him?
Or had all her attention been focused on Brynn?
Could Don want revenge for the devastation his family suffered because of the shooting?
FLASHLIGHT IN HAND, Riggs searched the ground as he walked back up the hill toward his truck. The brittle brush, ashes and dying embers made it difficult to see, especially in the dark, but at first light when the area cooled, a full crime scene team would be out hunting for forensics.
A piece of clothing, hair, footprints, accelerant—anything they could use to pinpoint whether the fire was accidental or arson.
His boots dug into the earth, now wet from their efforts to douse the flames, and a patch of weeds shifted. He shone the light onto the patch and spotted something small stuck in the burned leaves, almost hidden by a river rock.
Pulse jumping, he knelt and gently raked the weeds aside.
A matchbook.
Pulling gloves from his pocket, surprised it hadn’t completely been destroyed in the fire, he carefully lifted and examined it. The matchbook was empty, the edges charred. He wiped away soot and recognized the logo on the front—Smokehouse Barbecue.
Could it have belonged to the person who’d set this fire? Anger hardened his jaw and Riggs secured it in a bag to give to Stone to send to the lab.
The matchbook could mean nothing. People hiked in the woods all the time.
But it could be a lead. If a match from this book had been used to set the fire, and the lab could pull fingerprints, it might lead to the responsible party.
Accidental or not, this fire could have taken lives.
And if it was intentional, and they were dealing with an arsonist, he needed to be stopped before he struck again.