Firestorm. Kelly Riley Ann

me?”

      Tanner turned from the map, his gaze meeting hers. “Did your father ever mention belonging to an organization called SOLO?”

      “Sounds vaguely familiar. What’s it stand for?”

      “Save Our Land Organization. Started as conservational group, but some of its extremist wackos decided the political channels were too bogged down and took matters into their own hands.”

      “Go on,” she urged when he grew silent.

      “In Colorado last summer, the federal government approved a petition to allow developers to build two new ski resorts in a protected area. When it comes to national forests, the government is allowed to trade acreage across the country as long as the total amount of protected acreage remains the same.” There was sharp edge to his voice. “The Colorado project was well under way when a fire swept through and burned everything to the ground. When they started building again, another fire was set. They caught a couple of the perps, but the leaders are still at large.”

      Kitty perched on the desk’s edge and rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. “I remember the fires. Several firefighters died, but I don’t recall any talk about SOLO. Where’d you get your information?”

      “I have my sources. The FBI is still investigating, so the media has been kept out of it,” Tanner said. “People touted the Colorado town as the new Aspen, and the ski resorts would’ve brought in a thousand jobs. But after the fires, the developers moved to a less risky area.”

      “So now you think this group may have come here because the town is planning to expand the ski resort onto government land? Then, why suspect my father?” Another sickening thud hit her stomach. “You think he’s a SOLO extremist? That’s insane. He may have joined the organization to support their conservation efforts, like I’m sure many people have, but he’d never support the radical fringe.” She groaned in frustration. “Their whole purpose doesn’t make sense. Burn down the forest—kill trees and wildlife so people can’t develop the land? Crazy!”

      “Common sense doesn’t stop people like them.” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a creased index card. “Did your father ever mention any of these individuals?”

      She scanned the list. “I recognize some, but I can’t believe any of these guys would be involved. My dad knew almost everyone in Pine Lake. Sure, he opposed the new ski resort in the beginning, but mainly because the runs were expanding into an area he cared about. But he’d never put his own personal beliefs above people’s safety.” She ran her finger over the section of the map where the hotel once stood. “You don’t believe me.”

      “I believe in data, and right now the facts conflict.”

      Kitty pushed off the desk. “You want data? Fine. Let’s get started then. There must be a clue somewhere in this mess.” She wiped her cold hands on her jeans and scrutinized the piles of paper. “We have a lot to do.”

      “We?” He barked out a short, derisive laugh. “I’m sorry, there is no ‘we.’ The sheriff and I are still following up leads. I know it’s hard, but you’re just going to have to trust us to do our jobs.” His tone softened. “Why don’t you just go home to L.A., and I’ll be in touch with you in a couple days.”

      She gazed out the window at the giant oak tree her father had refused to cut down to widen the parking area. It would be a relief to leave Pine Lake, but what would she tell her grandmother if they continued to believe her father was an arsonist? Kitty didn’t trust Tanner or Sheriff Johnson to be as thorough as she.

      “I’m going to stick around for a while.”

      Tanner frowned but didn’t appear surprised. “Well, I can’t force you to leave.” He moved toward the door. “Just be careful.”

      “You’re the second person to tell me that today. Do you think I might be in danger?”

      “Don’t you find it strange someone would call you about the case against your dad without identifying himself?”

      “From this town? Are you kidding?” She laughed. “No offense, but an isolated place like this can attract odd people. You ask the Pine Lake residents why they moved to seven thousand feet where jobs are scarce and the nearest shopping mall is more than a hundred miles away, and you’ll get as many different answers as there are acorns in the oak tree out there.” She nodded meaningfully. “It takes effort to want to survive up here. A lot don’t stick it out through the first winter.”

      Kitty scrutinized Tanner’s strong profile as he straightened a stack on his desk. She didn’t have any doubt that if this man wanted to stay in Pine Lake, he’d make it work. What was his story? Was he running away from something too?

      “Just the same, watch your step. Don’t give the sheriff a reason to nail you for obstructing justice.”

      Kitty grimaced. “Don’t worry, he’s not someone I want to spend time with.” She ran her palm over the scarred desk. “I have a question. Do you know if the stuff in this desk was moved before last night?”

      “Whatever wasn’t confiscated as possible evidence is in my garage.” Tanner glanced at his watch. “I didn’t see anything valuable. Mostly paperwork. Letters, newspaper clippings, stuff like that. Why?”

      Kitty chewed on her lower lip, debating whether to mention the notebooks, but she really wanted to read them before the sheriff and Tanner did. She shrugged. “You never know what might be useful.”

      “I’ll get the boxes for you this afternoon.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, if we’re finished, I have to get to work.”

      Kitty hesitated by the dusty window as Tanner’s footsteps faded into the bay. Near her Jeep, a pair of Steller’s jays squabbled over a bug on the concrete. The wind shook the tree branches, and with a burst of dark-blue feathers, the birds flashed by and disappeared.

      She sighed, a restless yearning filling her heart. Much as she enjoyed her fast-paced life in Los Angeles, she missed the wild beauty of the Sierras. The sound of the wind in the trees instead of the bustle of traffic. Wildlife consisting of animals rather than human predators on the streets. And sweet air she could breathe with carefree abandon and not have to check the smog levels on the morning news. Not that she’d ever consider moving back. Not after the way they’d treated her. Too many narrow-minded people, some supposedly Christians, who’d snubbed her because of her sullenness and her poor choice of friends.

      Maybe she’d deserved their criticism. She’d been confused and hurt after her mother had dumped her in Pine Lake with a father she barely knew. She’d lashed out at her anger and frustration by running wild with the wrong crowd for a few years.

      But weren’t Christians supposed to forgive? Ten years spent living in Pine Lake and she’d felt like an outsider. Now, some of the same people were trying to smear her father’s name. But they hadn’t bested him in life, and she wouldn’t let them succeed after his death.

      With renewed determination, she marched into the garage. Tanner was dragging a fire hose across the floor to fold the length in half, a tedious routine she knew well. Fire hoses needed to be cleaned, dried and put away after each use.

      She trotted to the opposite end, knelt and snapped the upper hose so it stayed aligned with the lower half as Tanner rolled it into a coil larger than a bicycle wheel.

      “Thanks,” he grunted. His shoulder bumped hers as the coil reached the brass fittings. He heaved the bundle onto a rack against the wall.

      “This place needs a good scrubbing,” she said and grabbed another hose from the pile on the floor.

      “We’re short-handed, and two structure fires last week didn’t give us much time to clean up.”

      They continued to work in silence. Kitty’s mind wandered. How long ago had Tanner’s wife died? On their last day together, had Luke told his wife he loved her? Or did they part on angry words like she and her father?

      She