CLAIRE STARED at Nick, not sure what to say. She should have realized this was coming. Sooner or later, Nick was bound to realize that she and Tucker were…what? Flirting? Involved? In lust?
Please, God, don’t let him figure out that she and Tucker were sleeping together. She so did not know how to talk about sex with a teenage boy.
“I’m not sure yet what’s going on,” she said, opting for complete honesty. “I like him and he likes me.”
He gave her an uncertain look. “Are you going out with him?”
“We haven’t actually been on a date, no,” she hedged.
“Are you gonna go out with him?”
“Yes, I am.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts, suddenly nervous and self-conscious. “Do you have a problem with that?”
He shifted the cat in his arms. “I don’t know. I think it would be kind of weird.”
“I guess it could be.” She gave her nephew a strained smile and plucked at a loose string inside her pocket.
“If you go out with him, are you gonna make him go with you when you leave?” he demanded. “’Cause Coach likes it here. And the guys on the team would be mad if he wasn’t their coach anymore.”
“Coach Hall isn’t going anywhere,” she told him. “He’s staying in Monroe.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” It was the one certainty in the whole situation. Tucker wasn’t about to leave Monroe.
“Then I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? If you go out with him, I mean. ’Cause you’re not going to be here that much longer.”
Nick clutched the cat more tightly and brushed past her to walk into the house.
Claire watched him go. Was that disappointment on his face? For the first time, she felt a pang of loss at the thought of leaving Monroe. For the first time, the thought of going back to Chicago didn’t fill her with yearning. It left her with the cold ashes of regret in her mouth.
LATE TUESDAY NIGHT of the next week, Claire rolled over on the couch, startled awake from an uneasy sleep while she waited for Nick. She glanced at her watch. He’d gone to the homecoming week bonfire at school, and he was late getting home.
She sat up, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she heard footsteps pounding through the kitchen.
“Aunt Claire! Aunt Claire, there’s a fire in the backyard.”
Nick’s voice.
“What?” She stumbled to her feet as Nick skidded to a stop in front of the couch. “A fire? In the backyard?”
“Get out of the house! I’m going to get some water.”
“I’ll call 9-1-1,” she said as she ran into the kitchen. She watched bright orange flames flicker in the window as she waited for someone to answer the phone.
Moments later, after giving the dispatcher her name and address, she ran out the door. The flames licked at the old wooden porch. If it caught fire, it would burn quickly.
And so would the house.
“Nick!” she called, frantic to find him.
“I’m trying to get the hose,” he yelled, and she ran around the side of the house.
Nick tugged on the hose, but it refused to budge, twisted around the wheels of the cart that held it. She kicked the cart over and reached to untangle it. Nick staggered backward as it came loose, then recovered and yanked a length of it free. She turned on the water as he ran toward the fire.
Sirens grew louder, swelling to fill the air and drown out even the crackle of the flames. As Nick stood with the hose trained on the fire, three firefighters ran around the corner of the house, hauling a thick fire hose.
“Get back!” one of them yelled, waving to her and Nick. The firefighter turned a valve and water gushed on the fire, a thick stream that extinguished it in seconds. Gray smoke filled the air, making the yard look surreal and otherworldly.
As she and Nick stood to the side and watched, the firefighters examined the porch carefully to make sure it wasn’t smoldering, then spread out through the yard. One of them unbuckled his breathing apparatus and squatted next to the smoking pile of what looked like firewood.
“That looks like a pile of logs,” Claire said.
The firefighter didn’t answer. He stood up, kicked at the charred and blackened wood, then squatted in front of it again. Finally he stood up, a grim look on his face.
“Did you start this fire, young man?” he asked Nick.
“No!” Nick stared at him, and Claire saw the confusion in his eyes. “It was burning when I got home.”
“Is that right?” The firefighter narrowed his eyes as he watched Nick, obviously skeptical.
“Nick didn’t do this,” Claire said, putting her arm around her nephew’s shoulder.
“Someone started it. I can smell lighter fluid, and the scorch marks prove that an accelerant was used.”
“It wasn’t Nick. It’s ridiculous to even think he would start a fire in his own yard.”
The firefighter pushed his helmet to the back of his head and sighed. “Tonight was the bonfire at the high school,” he said. He glanced over at Nick. “Maybe your nephew thought it would be fun to have his own bonfire.”
“He said he didn’t do it and I believe him.”
The firefighter shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time a kid came home from the bonfire at school and started one of his own.”
He trudged off, leaving the pile of logs smoking on the lawn. She tightened her arm around Nick’s shoulders. “I don’t think for a moment that you did this.”
“He’s a jerk,” Nick answered. “Why would I set my own house on fire?”
“Exactly.” She kept her arm around Nick, and he leaned closer as they stood there, watching the smoke curling off the logs and drifting across the yard.
Multiple doors slammed in front of the house, and the fire truck rumbled away. A few moments later, Tucker ran into the backyard.
“Are you guys all right?” he asked.
Nick slid out from beneath her arm. “Someone tried to set our house on fire,” he said, gesturing at the smoldering pile of logs.
“What?” Tucker grabbed Nick’s shoulders, looked over at Claire. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah,” Nick said, shrugging. “Aunt Claire and I almost had it out by the time the firefighters got here. Jerks.”
“They asked me if Nick might have started the fire,” Claire explained in response to Tucker’s questioning look.
Tucker scanned Nick quickly, then let him go and turned to her. His face tightened when he saw her hands. “You said you weren’t hurt.”
“I’m not.”
He turned her hands over, his touch featherlight. Blood smeared her palms and she stared at them, bewildered. “I must have torn off the scabs when we dragged the hose over here. I didn’t feel a thing.”
“You’re bleeding, Aunt Claire,” Nick said, staring at her hands.
“It’s not a big deal,” she said, curling her fingers into her palms.
“We need to get her cleaned up, Nick. Do you know where all the first-aid stuff is?” Tucker asked.
“Yeah, I think so.” He seemed to stand taller, and Claire silently blessed Tucker for deferring to him. All Tucker’s instincts, she was beginning to realize, demanded that he protect and defend.
But he was remarkably sensitive to Nick, a boy whose own sense of belonging, of being needed, was heartbreakingly fragile right now.
Nick ran ahead of them and clattered up the stairs. When she and Tucker reached the brightly lit kitchen, Tucker cupped his hands around her face.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he murmured, raw fear in his eyes.
“I’m fine. Really. Nick found the fire and called me in time.”
“God,” he said, laying his forehead on hers. “I was terrified when Judy Johnson called and told me the fire trucks were here.”
His breath feathered on her cheek, and his hands were warm against her face. Suddenly shaky with delayed reaction, she leaned against his solid strength and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I didn’t have time to be scared,” she whispered. “But I’m glad you’re here now.”
“I’m staying the night,” he said. “In case whoever started the fire comes back.”
Pleasure rippled through her. Almost as quickly, reason reared its head. “We can’t do that,” she whispered. “Not with Nick in the house.”
He raised his head, his eyes darkening to indigo. “I didn’t mean I’d be spending the night in your bed,” he murmured. “Although that’s where I want to be.”
“Me, too,” she whispered.
Nick came running down the stairs, and Tucker stepped away from her. “I’ll take a rain check on that,” he said, his eyes full of seductive promise.
He smoothed one finger down her throat, caught the edge of her T-shirt and gave it a playful tug. She caught her breath, and his eyes darkened even further as he let his gaze linger on her breasts.
He’d moved away from her by the time Nick rushed into the kitchen. “I didn’t know what we’d need, so I brought everything I could find.”
Tucker looked at the armful of bandages, ointments and bottles. “Good Lord, Kendall. You’ve got enough stuff here to patch up the whole football team.”
He gave Nick’s shoulder a light punch. “That was thinking ahead. I guess you know your aunt pretty well. She’s going to fight us like a wildcat, probably ruin a bunch of that stuff.” He winked at Nick, and her nephew grinned back at him. “You want to hold her down, or should I?”
“You can hold her down,” Nick said happily. “I’ll fix her hands.”
“Yeah, give me the tough job,” Tucker said. He pulled out a chair, sat down and eased her onto his lap. When Nick turned away to set up his supplies on the kitchen counter, Tucker picked up her hand and kissed it.
His erection pressed heavily into her backside, and she drew in a sharp breath. Watching Nick, she slid off Tucker’s lap. “I’m too heavy for you,” she said, her voice breathless.
“Yeah, you’re an armful, all right,” he said, sliding out from beneath her and moving to stand behind her chair. “You about ready there, Nick?”
“Yeah,” Nick answered. He turned around and bent over her hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he washed away the blood and applied ointment and bandages.
“Thanks, Nick. Nice job,” she said, standing up and kissing his cheek. “With hands like those, you ought to be a doctor.”
Nick flushed. “Yeah, right.”
“Someone should stay down here tonight, make sure whoever did this doesn’t come back,” Tucker said.
Before he could offer to stay, Nick nodded. “I’ll sleep in the living room.”
She didn’t want her nephew staying down here if there was a chance the person who started the fire would be back. She opened her mouth to tell him so, then stopped.
Nick needed to do this. She saw it in his eyes. He needed to be the one to protect her, to protect his house. “All right,” she said slowly. “But keep the phone close by. If you hear anything, you call the police.”
“I’ll get my blankets and pillow,” Nick said, bounding up the stairs again.
As soon as he’d disappeared, Claire leaned into Tucker. “Thanks for coming over to check on us,” she said.
“It was my pleasure.” His eyes gleamed as he bent his head, took her mouth.
Need swept through her, making her tremble. When he stepped back, she was shaking all over.
“I’ll see you soon, Claire.” He smiled as he stepped out the door, stuck his head back inside. “And I will be cashing in that rain check.”
THE NEXT MORNING, Claire stared down at the charred pile of logs so perilously close to the porch, wondering who had started the fire.
Had it really been kids coming home from the bonfire? A chill ran down her spine.
She desperately wanted to believe it was kids.
She didn’t think it was.
It was past time to talk to Chief Broderick.
Hurrying to the phone, she confirmed he was in the office, then got in her car and drove downtown. In minutes she was standing in his office.
“Have a seat, Ms. Kendall,” he said.
“Please, call me Claire.”
“Claire. Thanks for stopping by. I heard about the fire last night.”
Claire clasped her hands together in her lap. “The firefighters think it was one of the high school kids who started it. I’m not so sure.”
“Was it your nephew?” he asked.
“No! I’m sure it wasn’t Nick.”
Seth Broderick eased back in his chair. “He’s had a lot to deal with. Sometimes good kids do stupid things when they’re overwhelmed.”
“Nick didn’t do it,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”
“Okay. You know him better than I do. I’ll send an officer over to take a look, ask some questions.”
“Thank you.” She pressed her fingers together more tightly. “Have you found anything else in your investigation of Janice’s death?”
“I have, as a matter of fact.” He sat up straight in his chair, all business. “I got the phone records I requested for your sister’s house. In the weeks before she died, she’d had a number of phone calls. All of them were either from her office or from friends of hers. The friends all have what appear to be solid alibis for the time she died.”
“What about right before she left the house that night? Nick said she got a phone call.”
Seth nodded. “It was from city hall.”
“Who was it from?” She leaned forward.
“That’s what’s interesting. It was from her own office.”
“Her own office? But she was at home when she got the call.”
“Exactly. Whoever called used the phone on her desk.”
A cold chill rippled over Claire. “Why would someone do that?”
“My guess is, they didn’t want anyone to know who made the call.”
“Did you get my message about her car?”
“Yes, we’ve already gone to Bakersfield and picked it up.” Seth twirled a pencil on his desk as he watched her. “I saw the paint in the dents you talked about, and we’re having it tested.” He paused, as if weighing how much to tell her. “The city of Monroe cars are all painted red. I’m beginning to think your nephew may be right. Maybe your sister did have some help driving into the lake.”
“My God.” Claire leaned back in her chair, shaken, staring at the chief of police. “I didn’t really believe Nick, you know. I just wanted to reassure him.”
“I never underestimate gut feelings. Your nephew was pretty adamant.”
“What next?” Claire asked.
“I’ve been talking to people over at city hall. I haven’t worked through all of them yet, but I will.”
Claire’s chill deepened. “I was over there last week,” she whispered. “I talked to Annamae Shelton. She was going to ask around to see if anyone remembered anything unusual.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “That night, I went to the lake, to see the place where Janice went off the road. It was raining, just like it was the night Janice died. I’m not even sure why I went there.” She shivered. “A car swerved onto the shoulder of the road and almost hit me. I had to jump over the guardrail and I fell down the slope.”
“What?” Seth bounced forward in his chair, his eyes hard and intent. “Did you report this?”
“No. I assumed it was just an accident.”
“And then someone started a fire in your backyard last night,” he said slowly.
“I think they’re connected.”
“If your house burned down, you’d have to leave Monroe, and that would be the end of the questions. It was quite a coincidence that the car ran you off the road right after you’d been talking to Annamae. I’m not much of a believer in coincidence.”
“You think Annamae has something to do with this?” she asked, incredulous.
“I haven’t ruled anyone out.” He smiled, his mouth a grim line. “I can’t see Annamae trying to run you down, but she’s the biggest gossip in Monroe. Everyone in city hall would have known about your questions fifteen minutes after you left.”
“What should I do?” Claire asked.
“Nothing. This is a police investigation now and you need to stay out of our way.” He stood up. “Your job is to keep your nephew safe. Fifteen-year-old boys are impulsive and reckless. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“I’ll try,” she said, shaken.
Seth’s expression became gentle. “I know you will.”
“Thank you,” she said as she stood up and shook the police chief’s hand. “Thank you for taking me seriously.”
His hand tightened on hers. “I told you things are different now in Monroe,” he said quietly. “I meant it.”
“I can see that,” Claire said.
Over the past weeks, she’d let down her guard. She’d allowed herself to become entangled in the fabric of Monroe. Now she felt like an outsider again.
As she drove home, she studied everyone she saw, wondering if one of them was hiding a deadly secret. Had one of them killed her sister?