Christmas in Whitehorn (25 page)

But she didn't say the words. For one thing, she didn't know his feelings about Dirk. Liking her brother was one thing – being willing to get involved with someone responsible for Dirk was another. Her second reason for hesitating was that she thought he would more comfortable if he made the first move. Wasn't that how guys liked it?

If only she'd had more experience. But Mark was the first guy she'd been involved with since her folks had passed away. Her relationships in college had been so incredibly shallow that she had no way to compare them to what was currently going on in her life.

By the time they reached the overlook, the sky had nearly cleared. Mark put the truck in park but left the motor running. Heat poured out of the vents, warming her feet and legs.

"You're looking serious about something," he said, angling toward her.

"I'm just thinking."

"Does it hurt?"

She glared at him. "I'm very intelligent. Your inability to figure that out reflects badly on you, not me."

"Oh, aren't we snippy?" He grinned. "Ac-
tually
I figured out that you're pretty smart. I'm smart, too."

"Really?
I hadn't noticed." She pretended great interest in what was outside the passenger window.

Suddenly she felt his hand under her coat.
He bee-lined for her side, where he started tickling her.
Mark had unfastened his seat belt, but she was still trapped in hers. She squirmed but couldn't get away from his questing fingers. She shrieked and laughed.

"Stop!" she gasped.

"I have you in my clutches now," he said with mock importance. "I will tickle you into submission."

She pushed his hands away. Without warning, he stopped. His expression softened as he stroked her cheek.

"I didn't expect you to show up," he told her. "I came home to lick my wounds and figure out what I was going to do with my life. Suddenly you were in my face, arguing with me about what I ordered for breakfast and trying to save the world."

She felt herself getting lost in his green eyes. Her heart seemed to be beating very fast as anticipation swept through her. Mark was looking at her as if she were very precious to him. As if she mattered.

"I've never met anyone like you," he ad-
mitted
. "After Sylvia, I swore I'd never get burned by a woman again. I didn't want to trust anyone or get involved. But you're easy to trust. You're a good person and there aren't that many of those around."

"I'm not that good," she said. "And there are a lot of really terrific people. You just have to look to find them."

"I forgot to mention that you like to argue with me."

"I do not." She winced. "Okay, that might prove your point, but I don't think I argue."

"Uh-huh."

He moved closer, his mouth hovering inches from hers. "You confuse the hell out of me, Darcy."

"Ditto.
I don't know if I'm coming or going around you."

"Which do you want it to be?"

Before she could answer, his arms came around her. He drew her close and kissed her.

The familiar warmth, the heat, the passion all combined to sweep her away. Need poured through her.
Need and a sense of being where she belonged.
With Mark—

A sharp sound cut through the night.
Sirens.
Mark straightened and glanced out the windshield. From their place above the city they could see several fire trucks racing across town.

"It's the whole fire crew," Mark said. "I wonder what's burning." He reached for the parking brake,
then
glanced back at her. "I'm sorry. I know this is a mood breaker. But there have been some strange occurrences in town lately and this fire may be related. Do you mind if we check it out?"

She shook her head. Mark had gone into cop mode. There was no point in protesting his actions. Even if she convinced him to stay here, she wouldn't have his attention. The sooner they found out about the fire, the sooner they could be back in each other's arms. At least that was her fantasy.

They followed the sounds of the sirens. Eventually they were able to see the flames reaching up toward the sky. Darcy glanced around to get her bearings. Her stomach tightened as she recognized the street and the neighborhood. An awful feeling took root inside and began to grow. Mark pulled up behind the last fire truck and got out. She climbed down after him and stared at the eerie nightmare dancing toward the stars.

Horror swept over her as she watched angry fire destroy the Hip Hop Café. They stood well away from the engulfed building, but even from this distance the heat was nearly overwhelming. With each breath, she inhaled the scent of destruction – as the café was reduced to nothing.

The sound surprised her the most. The fire roared as it consumed. Walls creaked and groaned, beams snapped, steam from the water hissed. The ceiling crashed onto the floor.

Darcy couldn't believe what was happening. Two hours ago the Hip Hop had been right where it was supposed to be and now it was disappearing before her eyes. People gathered around them, some talking quietly, others caught up in the awesome power of the flames.

Darcy wasn't sure how long she watched. Gradually the fire grew smaller. The smoke changed from dark to light as the firefighters won their battle. Eventually there was nothing left but a pile of steaming rubble.

It was only then that Darcy realized what she'd lost. Not just her baking contract, but her job. Every source of income had just gone up in flames. Tears burned in her eyes. She turned to Mark to speak with him, only to find him in conversation with the sheriff and someone from the fire department.

"I'll find out," he was saying. He glanced at her. "Darcy, were you the last person in the building?" He asked the question casually, as if inquiring about the weather. Yet it only took a second for the meaning of his words to sink into her brain. She'd closed the restaurant. This could all be her fault!

She grabbed his coat sleeve. "Mark. I know I turned everything off.
The stove, the lights.
All of it.
There's a checklist for closing up. I don't do it very often, so I was working from the list, not from memory."

"I know. It's all right."

She wanted to believe him, but there was something scary in his eyes.
A distance.

He put his arm around her and drew her closer. Not to comfort her, she realized, but so that she could speak directly to the sheriff and fire chief.

"Tell them what happened," he said.

Darcy outlined her last hour in the restaurant. She detailed as much of what she'd done to close up as possible. Her shaking voice made the telling a little difficult, but both men were patient. They asked her a few questions, only to be interrupted by the arrival of Melissa North, the owner of the Hip Hop Café, and a firefighter carrying a charred gas can in his hand.

"It was in the alley," he said, handing it to the fire chief.
"Right by the back door."

Darcy's head began to spin. Melissa gave a cry of alarm. "I don't understand," she said.

"Neither do
we
," the sheriff told her. "But we're going to get to the bottom of this."

He and the fire chief moved a short distance away. Darcy couldn't hear what they were saying. She turned and saw that Mark had disappeared into the milling crowd. She felt very alone.

"I'm really sorry," she forced herself to say. Her lips felt thick and it was difficult to speak. "I swear, Melissa, I didn't do anything to start this fire."

Her boss brushed away tears. "I believe you. If they've found a gas can, then it's unlikely the fire was started by an electrical short or a burner left on. I guess—" She gave a soft cry. "I guess I'm going to have to remodel after all."

A tall man appeared and put his arms around Melissa. Darcy recognized her husband, Wyatt North. He led his wife away. Darcy noticed that everyone else seemed to have a friend or loved one to lean on. Only she stood by herself.

"Ma'am, we're going to have to speak with you again."

Darcy turned and saw the fire chief. "I don't understand.
About what?"

"The fire.
We'll want to go over what you remember."

"But the gas can. Isn't that how it started?"

"It's too soon for us to know." He gave her a slight smile. "No one is accusing you of anything. However, we will ask you not to leave town in the next couple of days. We have a lot of information to collect."

Darcy nodded because she couldn't speak. She could barely breathe. She had no job, no baking contract,
no
income at all and now she was being told not to leave
Whitehorn
?

"How you doing?"

She turned and saw Mark. Relief swept through her. Thank God, he was still here. She reached for him, needing to feel his arms around her, offering comfort. Instead, he pressed keys into her hand.

"I've got to get into the sheriff's Office," he said absently, not even looking at her. "Take the truck and head home. I don't know when I'll be able to leave work, but I'll have someone drive me home when I can get away."

He gave her a quick, meaningless smile and disappeared into the milling crowd. Darcy was left standing alone.

Chapter Fifteen

S
heriff Rafe Rawlings arrived at Darcy's place just before nine the next morning. "Just a few simple questions," he said
po
-
litely
as she slipped into the front seat of his car.

She tried to tell herself that the good news was he hadn't put her in back, where the criminals sat. Nor had he slapped on handcuffs. As they drove off, she glanced back at the duplex. Mark's truck still sat in his carport. As far as she could tell, he hadn't been home all night, nor had he arrived that morning. Where
was
he and what was he thinking?

Three hours later she still didn't have an answer. She'd answered questions until her throat was sore. No, she hadn't seen anyone suspicious hanging around the café. Yes, she'd turned off the stove and unplugged both coffee stations before leaving. She explained about the checklist and how she'd followed it so closely because she wasn't used to closing up at night.

That statement had brought a whole new line of questioning. Why had she suddenly asked to work that night if she didn't
usually.
Darcy tried to stay calm.

"I didn't request the shift change. There was a whole big mess with scheduling." She cupped her hands around the coffee the sheriff's secretary had provided and tried not to wonder if her interview was being taped or recorded without her knowledge. "One of the waitresses needed time off in the afternoon for a birthday party for her daughter. Somebody on nights needed to work a morning shift. Someone else had a doctor's appointment. We all switched everything around and no one was willing to fill in at night."

She glanced at the sheriff and tried to smile. She doubted she was successful. "The
people
who work it, really like it. The rest of us try to avoid it. Finally I said I'd close. It doesn't happen very often and I try to cooperate so that if I ever need to change, people are willing to trade with me."

Rafe didn't look at her as he scribbled on a pad. Darcy folded her arms over her chest. While the temperature in the room felt pleasant, she was chilled all the way to her soul. Her stomach tightened every time she thought about Mark. Why hadn't she seen him? Was he really busy or was he avoiding her? She hadn't done anything wrong, but would he believe her? Did he think that once again he'd gotten involved with a criminal? Was this situation reminding him of the one with Sylvia?

The sheriff walked her through the evening again. Darcy felt exhausted. Some of it was the interview, but most of it was probably shock and the fact that she hadn't slept the previous night. No matter how many times she showered, she couldn't get the smell of smoke out of her memory.

"That's it for now," Rafe told her. "You'll be hearing from the arson investigator. He'll want to talk with you – probably later today."

She nodded. "I lost my job when the Hip Hop burned down. I won't be going anywhere."

Rafe didn't seem overly sympathetic. "One of my men will drive you home. Thank you for your time, Ms. Montague."

She thought about asking if she was now allowed to leave the city, but she didn't want to start trouble. No doubt the sheriff would want to know why. When she was up to visiting her brother, she would call the sheriff's office and make sure it was all right with them.

*

Mark wasn't home when Darcy was dropped off by a young deputy. She knocked on his door for several minutes, even though she knew it was pointless. His paper still lay in front of his porch.

She grabbed it,
then
headed for her own place. After fixing coffee, she sat down at the table to distract herself with the headlines. Maybe she could even work up enough energy to look through the want ads, now that she needed a job. Anything to keep her from thinking that it had been way too long since Mark had disappeared the previous night. He'd given her his truck to get home, but he'd never said he would call. And he hadn't.