Out Of The Ashes. Cynthia Reese

Ma is—is right on the money.”

      “Ma is my mom, Colleen Monroe. She raised nearly all of us by herself after my dad was killed.”

      Kari’s stomach turned at the thought of someone dying because of a stupid fire. She hated fire. Making a conscious effort to shift her attention to something else, she asked, “Who’s all of us?”

      “Well, there was me and my brother Andrew, and you’ve met Daniel. And I have three sisters. Daniel had moved out—he was actually a professional baseball player in the minor leagues when it happened. But the rest of us were still at home.”

      “That’s—that’s quite a big family.”

      “What about you? Do you have just the one brother?”

      “Jake? Yes. It’s just me and him.”

      “How old is he, anyway?”

      “Believe it or not, he’s three years older than me. He just—Mom says he hasn’t found his true calling in life.”

      “But you don’t believe that.” It was a statement, not a question. Kari narrowed her eyes at his too-keen observation.

      “I guess I’m hoping for Mom’s sake that he’ll find that true calling sooner rather than later,” she said. She made to pick up the box, but Rob closed his hands over hers.

      “Allow me. Unless you want to give me another rendition of Clash of the Cymbals.”

      “No way. It sounded like I’d let a two-year-old loose in my cupboards. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it—my car is just outside.”

      “Wait, not the vintage Mustang convertible? Man, now that’s a car I could get excited about—”

      She laughed. “No, that’s my next-door neighbor’s—he’s going through a midlife crisis. No, mine’s the brown minivan with the peeling paint. The back door should be unlocked.”

      He pivoted with the box. “Just put it anywhere?”

      “Wherever you can find a spot. I’ll be there in a jiff—I need to grab a few last things from the bedroom.”

      Alone, she made one last tour of the empty apartment. It was a good thing she hadn’t had the money to buy a lot of furniture or bric-a-brac. She couldn’t have afforded the storage costs, and her mother’s house didn’t have the space.

      With a lump in her throat, she surveyed the sunny rooms she’d first seen just six months ago. So much hope. So much promise.

      “I’ll be back,” she whispered. “Maybe not here, but some place like this. Some place better, even. It’s not forever. It’s for now.”

      And maybe she’d even believe that eventually. But at the moment, Kari would have to pretend that she did.

      She tightened her hand on the handle of the big shopping bag with the toiletry items she’d waited to pack last, then turned for the door.

      It was as she was locking the door for the last time that she spotted what Rob was doing.

      The box was on the sidewalk. The doors to the van were open—all of them.

      And Rob was very carefully, very thoroughly, searching her vehicle.

       CHAPTER SIX

      “HEY!”

      Kari Hendrix’s outrage was near palpable as she closed the gap between the two of them in a quick jog. “What are you doing?”

      Rob laid the blanket he had in his hand down on the floor of the mini-van. “Shifting some things around. You did say anywhere.”

      “No! You were searching my van! You were—you used me! You were looking for evidence—”

      Rob squashed the guilty feeling that was worming its way onto his face. “I was doing what you asked. But should I, in my official capacity as an investigative officer, ask if there’s anything in this vehicle you mind me seeing?”

      Okay, so he had taken advantage of the opportunity to do a quick toss of the vehicle. He was law enforcement, and she knew it—or she ought to. He’d found nothing in the vehicle the least bit suspicious. The only evidence he’d found pointed toward a careful and frugal lifestyle—that and a predilection for toffee bars, if the little trashcan’s cache of candy wrappers belonged to her.

      “Well—no—it’s just—” Her expression was still full of wounded betrayal. “You could have told me that was why you came. And then I would have been prepared for you pawing through my things. That’s—that’s one of the things I hated most about juvie. They were always hunting and searching and—nothing was ever mine.”

      The words rang true, even to his cynical self. Or maybe it was because he had searched the van and come up empty.

      “I’m sorry. I was here. You had given me permission to go into your van—and my nosiness got the better of me.”

      “It’s your job. I guess I just allowed myself to forget that.” This last she said with a baleful resignation. “So was that the reason? That you came?”

      “Er—no.” Rob busied himself with putting the box in the van. “I really did have some more questions.”

      She pushed past him and dropped the bag in her hand into the seat. When she saw his eyes trail the path of the bag, she gave an exasperated sigh and upturned the bag, emptying its contents. Shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant and other toiletries fell out.

      “See any matches?” she snapped.

      For the first time ever, he regretted his devious cleverness when it came to his job. He had a reputation for being able to charm confessions out of arsonists—he’d even been called into neighboring counties to help out with the odd case. And this, today, had been something of the same. She’d offered, and he’d taken the opportunity to dig around.

      “Look, I said I was sorry,” Rob told her. “Maybe I wasn’t completely on the up-and-up with you, but if you’ve got nothing to hide, then no harm, no foul.”

      “Just because I’ve got nothing to hide doesn’t mean I don’t value my privacy—or a little trust. You really are cynical, aren’t you?”

      “Hey, you should look at it from the bright side—at least now I know you’re not hiding anything in your van,” he countered.

      Kari rolled her eyes. “Oh, wow. A cynic who’s a closet Pollyanna. How many times do I have to tell you? I didn’t burn my bakery.”

      “So who did? Give me one solid lead, one good suspect.” Rob heard the near pleading in his voice, and it scared him. He wanted her to be innocent. He wanted her to have nothing at all to do with the downtown fire. “Tell me who hates you enough to destroy your business and do a decent job framing you.”

      Her anger faded to misery. “I can’t do this, Rob. I didn’t do it when I was in juvie, and I won’t do it now. I won’t get myself out of hot water by pushing someone else in.”

      Rob shook his head in frustration. Looking at Kari Hendrix’s earnest face was only serving to confuse him. He kicked at pebbles strewn across the pavement by Kari’s beat-up van and pinched the bridge of his nose.

      “And besides,” he said in a sour tone that he hated, “you don’t know anything to tell.”

      She jumped—just a little jump, but one that he saw out of the corner of his eyes. Oh, yeah, Kari Hendrix had at least one suspect in mind. So who was she protecting?

      “That’s right.” She nodded her head a little too vigorously. “I don’t know anything at all to tell.”

      “Well, then. I guess it’s a good thing that