Secret Agent Under Fire. Geri Krotow

And why hadn’t he been informed that someone else was working this case? Keith made a mental note to see how much Rio knew about Ms. Abigail Redland. Thank God he knew Rio well enough to ask him, since Rio and Keith’s sister Kayla were a couple. He was supposed to meet them for dinner tonight. Soon enough.

      “I’m not being paid to impress you, Chief Paruso.” Her eyes glinted with the morning sun and her chest moved with the deep breaths she drew—was she trying to calm down? Was he making her angry, too? Not that he was looking at her chest. Although...

      “You have leaves on your, um, Kevlar.”

      She looked down and brushed off the dried oak leaves that were ground into her vest. Her hands were small but capable, and he imagined they’d be the perfect size to fit around his—no. He was not going there, not while this investigation was open, not with some pseudo-law-enforcement agent who probably didn’t know the difference between arson and a bonfire.

      “Interesting that you have such keen observation skills, Chief Paruso. I’m curious as to why your talents haven’t caught this criminal yet.”

      Anger dowsed the searing line of awareness between them, his focus no longer on his crotch but her snide comment. “How I run my investigation is none of your goddamned business, whether you’re working for SVPD or the CIA. In case you missed it, I’m the chief of the fire department. In reality, it’s law enforcement’s job to get the criminal, as you pointed out.” Who the hell did she think she was?

      “Trust me, I know what your job is, Chief.” She said it as though she really did understand firefighting, and it made him even hotter under the collar. Unless she’d had firefighting training herself, she had no business saying she knew his job. None.

      “What’s the problem, folks?”

      Keith all but jumped at the familiar voice behind him. He’d been so wrapped up in his emotions he hadn’t heard the approaching steps.

      Way to go, Keith.

      “Hey, Colt.” He held out his hand to the Superintendent of the Silver Valley Police Department, Chief Colt Todd.

      Colt gripped his hand firmly and gave it a quick shake before he grinned and nodded at Abigail. “Glad to see you two have met. Abi’s new to SVPD, working with us to fill in the gaps around the arson case.”

      “So she said.” Keith wasn’t budging.

      “Yes, we’ve met. Speaking of the case, Chief Todd, I need to get back to headquarters and compare notes with Rio and the team. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” Abigail walked off as if she owned the entire field they stood in. As if she was in charge of the case.

      “Those weren’t nice words I heard you two exchanging, Keith.”

      “Damn it, Colt, we need to be working together on every single aspect of this case or we’re never going to get the dirt bag. Not to mention bring down the cult, if they’re truly connected. Why didn’t you tell me you had a contract employee working this? And how is it that a civilian is carrying a weapon and wearing Kevlar as if she’s more than a contractor?”

      Colt’s eyes narrowed but he maintained a neutral expression. “We have several civilian staff members, Keith. Take Claudia Michele, for example. She runs our social media efforts but she’s also been intrinsic to solving a few cases.” Colt spoke about the woman Keith suspected was involved with, if not in charge of, the kind of undercover ops he suspected went on in Silver Valley. He knew that Silver Valley’s status as a quiet small town was at times lost because of the major highways that ran through the outlying area. A state turnpike and three interstate routes, heavily traveled, made Silver Valley attractive to criminals of all types. Criminals that committed crimes that required LEA ops to counter their stinging effects on the population. Ops he wasn’t privy to, not officially, but it was difficult to work as closely as he did with SVPD and not notice that some of his LEA colleagues appeared to be involved with more than local operations. And since his sister had become romantically involved with Rio, he’d had his suspicions validated by Kayla’s obvious avoidance of him when Rio was working “on a confidential case.”

      “So who is Abigail Redland, Colt? Is she FBI? ATF?”

      Colt shook his head. “It’s not important. And I’m not blowing you off, but just as I can’t always discuss all aspects of any one case—it’s the same with SVPD employees. I know you understand, Keith.”

      Keith watched the older man’s face closely. Colt ran a tight ship over at Silver Valley PD and never let the backlash of public opinion or fellow law-enforcement officers keep him from doing his job. Clearly he wasn’t going to budge on the Abigail Redland issue.

      Keith relented and let his shoulders drop.

      “Sorry, Colt. It’s been a long night, a fruitless morning, and we still don’t have the arsonist. I’m not convinced it’s just one person any longer, either.”

      Colt’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

      Keith debated how much to tell Colt. Because he wanted to nail this fire starter himself. He had to. To repair the damage to his professional reputation, which had been crushed under the lies and corruption of Silver Valley’s most recent administration, including an outsider mayor who was now behind bars in the state prison at Camp Hill. Worse for Keith, a couple associated with the cult had falsely accused him and his fire department of negligence at the Silver Valley Community Church fire two Christmases ago. It had cost Keith his job; he’d been placed on administrative leave for several months. Even though the charges had been dropped, thanks to Rio’s hard work, Keith felt the cloud of judgment that hung around his neck like a lead weight.

      “There have been a few signs that the fires are being set differently. Same propellant, gasoline, but with different starters. This house reeks of chemicals from fireworks, and I heard two large explosions before the flames started. My firefighters staged a mile away heard them, too. Yet we saw nothing on our walk-through inspection last night.” He wondered if Abigail had heard those explosions, if that was what had alerted her to the assailant. That must have been what had prompted her to take off after him, at least.

      “The first few were definitely started with matches. Maybe one was a butane lighter,” Colt mused aloud. “It’s not unusual for an arsonist to change starters, is it?”

      Keith looked up at the blue sky, watched two red-tailed hawks circling each other. Freedom. That was all he ever wanted. Freedom to do his job in peace, knowing he was serving the citizens of Silver Valley, enabling them to sleep at night, knowing that if the worst happened and a fire broke out in their homes, SVFD would be there and all would be okay.

      Home fires and car fires from accidental means were one thing. Pursuing an arsonist was another.

      “They can, and do. But this guy seemed so methodical with the first two fires. And we’re lucky he’s stuck to unoccupied structures so far, Colt. I don’t have to tell you what’s at stake with his growing number of fires.”

      “No, you don’t. I know he or she is escalating. At least that’s what Abi—” Colt pursed his lips, sized up Keith’s demeanor. “All right. I’ll tell you that she’s former FBI. And that her specialty is arson.”

      “She’s just ‘former,’ huh?” Keith had never seen Colt lie, but people in law enforcement often had to play their cards close. Very close.

      “Yes, definitely former. Enough said. Abi has a crap ton of experience in the analysis and psychological profiling of arsonists. And her observations are scaring the crap out of me, Keith.”

      “How so?”

      “We’ve seen the amping up of the frequency of fires, and the structures are getting more valuable.”

      Keith had noticed that, too. It was one thing to burn down an old barn that should have been razed years ago, to set fire to it in the dead of night with little or no risk to anyone. But abandoned farm structures like barns and sheds had given way to empty commercial property, to historical homes that were