Sparking His Interest. Wendy Etherington

Addison’s was displayed on the screen.

      Wes stared at the screen. “This is the background check I ran after the first fire.”

      “Ben e-mailed it to me.” She continued pacing. “So, employees consist of the manager, his assistant and five warehouse personnel. All work a day shift. After five o’clock, the property is deserted. The only other people with access to the building are the cleaning service, which comes once a week. The property is protected by a decent security system, which is connected to the fire alert system.”

      “Captain Hughes?” someone called from the other room.

      Cara strode from the closet and saw a firefighter, who was unmistakably a Kimball, peeking around the door between the office and the warehouse. “Yes?”

      The man nodded. “It’s safe for you to come out here now, though I wouldn’t delay too long. The steel reinforcements are holding things up for the moment. They seem solid, but with the heat of the fire…” He shrugged his broad shoulders.

      “Thanks. I’ll hurry,” she said.

      “We’ll be around a while still. Holler if you need us.” Then he grinned, his Kimball blue eyes twinkling. “And Wes says he gets all the lousy assignments.”

      He strode off, and Cara turned, nearly bumping into Wes. The man was forever sneaking up on her. She extended her hands to keep her balance, encountered Wes’s chest, then pulled back just as quickly and swayed on her feet.

      He grabbed her shoulders. “That’s my younger brother, Steve.”

      Still a little dizzy by the idea of nearly being held in his arms, Cara simply nodded. “I figured. Monica said there were three of you.”

      His hands, still resting on her shoulders, tensed. “I didn’t realize you knew my sister-in-law.”

      “We met a few months ago when she redecorated several firehouses in Atlanta.” She stared up at him. She knew Monica had briefly dated Wes, though everyone seemed to agree the match had been a mistake. “Problem?”

      “No. I just can’t picture the two of you as friends.”

      “We’re certainly different.” But outrageous Monica made her smile, and her new friend was always talking about shoes or wallpaper—a nice change from gasoline and matches. She wondered, however, if the tension she’d sensed between Wes and Ben had something to do with Monica. “I understand she and Ben eloped in Vegas.”

      “They were all googly-eyed about it. Weird.”

      Okay. Strike one with that theory. Wes obviously wasn’t pining after his sister-in-law. The brothers probably just had a personality conflict. Wes seemed to share little with Mr. Professionally Reserved Fire Chief Ben.

      When she turned, Wes had to drop his hold on her. She didn’t like being that close to him, touching him. She had a job to do, which didn’t involve examining the personal lives of her colleagues. She’d taken several steps toward the door to the warehouse when he asked, “How, exactly, does a sprinkler system work?”

      She glanced back, noting he stood by a large, black file cabinet on the other side of the manager’s desk. “When it detects fire, it shoots water everywhere.”

      “Not exactly. It detects heat. And it’s the water flow that actually triggers the alarm.” Confidence suffused his face as he met her gaze. “Right?”

      “Right.”

      “And here we have water flow, so the fire department came, just like the first fire.”

      “Right again.” She paused. “He obviously didn’t know about the possibility of a second water valve.”

      “I don’t think so.” He pointed at the ground, and she walked around the edge of the desk to see what was so interesting.

      A metal trash can was filled with ashes and sitting on the floor beside the file cabinet. “What the hell…”

      “Look up.”

      She tipped back her head, focusing on the sprinkler head just above them. “He set the sprinklers off on purpose.” Her gaze met his. “He wanted the fire department to come.”

      “Interesting, don’t you think?”

      “Oh, yeah.” She paused, trying to minimize the sweet thrill of discovery coursing through her veins. They still had a lot of investigating to do, but she definitely had a feel for this arsonist. What he wanted, what turned him on. It was this part of the job that she liked, the part that made her so successful. She headed toward the door leading to the warehouse. “Let’s see what else we find.”

      She snagged two hard hats from a rack on the wall, handing one to Wes. “You know the drill, I’m sure. Safety first. Keep your eyes and ears open for any shifting debris.”

      A half smile hovered on the lieutenant’s lips. “It’s not so bad working with you, actually.”

      “So glad you think so. I’ll be sure to pass that along to my CO.”

      “Who is your CO?” he asked as she gingerly turned the doorknob.

      “Technically, the state fire marshal, but the governor’s put me in charge of several task forces lately.”

      “The governor? Of the state?”

      She laid one hand on her hip. “He likes working with me.”

      His gaze raked her figure, somehow communicating admiration without insolence. “I imagine he does.”

      Her face heated. She was blushing? Oh, man, that was too much. “Come on, hotshot, let’s find the security panel.”

      Thankfully, he fell into step beside her and didn’t comment on the personal turn the conversation had taken. “Any idea where to look?”

      Cara glanced at the ruined space surrounding her, then consulted her map again. “Looks like we have a sprinkler room toward the back, closer to the left side.”

      They headed in that direction, picking their way around the boxes reduced to near ashes. With smoke still lingering in the air, water dripping off most everything, the ceiling partially collapsed in some places, they had a hard time figuring out what was what.

      After several minutes of winding through collapsed and melting rows of giant metal storage shelves without any luck, Wes said, “I’ll find Steve. Maybe he knows where the room is.”

      “Good idea. I’ll keep looking.”

      She headed off again, stepping over boxes and piles of still-smoldering paper, wondering just how many tons of supplies had fallen from upper floors and how much had actually been down here to start with. It was all a blackened, ashy, damp mess.

      But just as she was about to turn a corner partially blocked by a fallen beam, she saw a glint of gold. A doorknob maybe?

      She squinted, picking up a crumpled box and moving it aside. The outline of a door was definitely visible just behind a group of boxes. Moving them aside one by one, she finally made a small path for her to squeeze through.

      Sweat rolled down her face as she struggled toward her goal. She bent over a bit, dusting the soot from her jeans. As she straightened, she saw the body.

      The slumped, badly burned figure against the wall. It was a man. It used to be a man.

      She turned her head, swallowing the urge to gag. She’d seen it before, would no doubt see it again. The man wasn’t there anymore. Just his body, the flesh that used to contain him. Still, she had to draw a few deep breaths through her mouth before she knew she could look back.

      Her gaze slid back to his face, charred and ruined.

      Was this how the investigator had felt when he’d found her parents? Revolted, yet full of pity, praying they hadn’t suffered?

      “Lieutenant!” she