“You’re certain this fire wasn’t an accident?” she asked.
“People call when they have an accident. The property owners didn’t call. They didn’t know anything about it until we notified them.”
“How did a drifter like James Brown get inside?”
“Good question. I bet a hotshot officer like you can figure it out.”
She had the requisite years in service to test for an investigator position, which would be a big promotion. She’d love to get out of this uniform, love to have more control over her caseload, love to stop rotating shifts.
Which was why she would solve this case.
This was her big chance.
She looked her uncle square in the eye. “Count on it.”
Chapter 2
“Been playing in the ashes, Cinderella?” Officer Tom Harlow jeered as she entered the squad room and booted her computer. He’d been on the Mossy Bog police force three months, and it seemed like three decades. Between his smart mouth, his know-everything swagger, and his roving eye, Laurie Ann had trouble making polite conversation with him.
Harlow was all gloss. She’d run across his type before. The job would eat him up and spit him out sideways. She hoped it was soon.
“I was working a case,” she responded, barely catching herself from adding “moron” to the end of her sentence. She’d love to tell Harlow where to stuff it, but she didn’t want to chance getting into trouble. Not with her promotion looming. “The James Brown investigation.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying anything. Harlow and Calucci burst into one of singer James Brown’s hits about feeling good. They hammed it up by passing a pretend microphone back and forth and spinning wildly in circles.
Laurie Ann lurched to her feet and grabbed hold of Josh Calucci’s shirt for a quick moment, startling them both. “Stop it. A man is dead. Show respect to him and his family. His life meant something.”
“Sure did.” Harlow raised his coffee cup in mock salute. “He was Digger’s best customer over at the liquor store.”
“Not funny.” Laurie Ann felt sure flames flared from her nostrils.
“You’re wasting your time,” Harlow said. “Everybody knows the town drunk didn’t have any friends or family. No one cares what happened to him.”
“I care, and you should, too.”
“Sounds like you’ve got this one covered. I’ll save myself for a real homicide.”
Laurie Ann chewed the inside of her lip. Harlow pushed her right to the edge every time. Before she sat down again, the chief stepped out of his office and waved her over. She hurried across the narrow squad room, wondering if she’d forgotten to sign an incident report again. Had she missed an important meeting?
Worse, had Rawson’s court case ended early and she was off the arson case? She hoped not. She hadn’t downloaded her pictures of the scene yet or scanned her site sketch. She was bummed she’d missed James Brown’s autopsy, but at least his clothes had been sent to the lab for examination. If she could find the murder weapon, that promotion would be hers for sure.
“Sir?” Laurie Ann asked when he gestured her toward the chair across from his desk.
The chief settled his bulk into the creaky leather chair. “I’ve got the arson investigator holding on line three. He wants to talk to us together. You ready?”
She nodded, her curiosity rising. This would be the first arson investigator she’d met. The fires around Mossy Bog and Tidewater County didn’t ordinarily attract outside attention.
Chief Tyler activated the speakerphone button. “Mr. North, I have Officer Dinterman with me in the office now.”
“Good,” North said. “Dinterman, I expect to hit the ground running when I arrive tomorrow at one p.m. I expect a briefing package with the case files and autopsy report. We’ll head out for a site tour following my review of the records. Oh, and I need all records of fires in your area for the last two years.”
His deep, gravelly voice reminder her of a gunslinger, but his request loosened a bolt of panic through her bloodstream. She exchanged a worried glance with her chief. “We don’t get called out to every fire. I’ll have to ask the fire department for those records. And the coroner’s finalizing the autopsy report.” She had other responsibilities and patrol duty tomorrow. How would she manage to collect all this information in time?
“Anything you want,” the chief said. “We’ll have those materials waiting for you when you arrive.”
“That will do it. See you folks tomorrow,” North said.
The line went dead, and Laurie Ann shifted in her seat. “He asked for a lot of information,” she began, feeling her way through the swamp of red tape. The man probably rode roughshod over anyone foolish enough to get in his way. “But I’ll make it work.”
The chief nodded. “I’ve got pressure from the top to give this guy whatever he needs, so I’m assigning your patrol shifts to Calucci. You’re assigned full time to the arson guy. We need to keep him happy, understand? Wyatt North tells you to jump, you do it, no questions asked.”
She fought back a rush of excitement. With only one directive to follow, she could easily meet North’s deadline. And if he was such a by-the-book guy, she’d still have time after-hours for her scrap metals project.
“Got it.” She rose from her chair. “I’ll get started.”
“Oh, one more thing, Dinterman. That task force you put together, I’m handing that over to Harlow. I don’t want you to think about anything but this arson investigator for the next few days. Scrap metal theft is a low priority compared to catching a serial arsonist.”
Her excitement fizzled. This was her baby. “I can keep up with the task force, sir. It won’t take that much time.”
“I’ve seen how many calls you get on that. Too time-consuming for you right now.”
“This North must be the governor’s son or something,” she muttered.
“Or something.” He eyeballed her. “You’re the best we’ve got. I’m counting on you.”
The unspoken message came through crystal clear.
Don’t screw up
. She squared her shoulders. “I’ll do my best.”
Her best.
Would it be good enough for Mr. I-want-everything-right-now?
Darn straight.
She’d be the best babysitter he ever had.
Chapter 3
Laurie Ann’s mouth watered as she flipped the spicy catfish filets on the grilling pan. “These are about ready, Dad. You got a plate in there?”
“I got a whole cupboard full of plates,” Pete Dinterman answered from his kitchen. “Hang on a sec, oh, confound it. The potatoes boiled over. Again. I swear this stove is possessed.”
More likely he’d forgotten to turn the heat down. Nothing new there. She’d learned to take charge of the entrée, or else the whole meal would burn to a crisp. Her dad was a great guy, a retired cop, but he couldn’t focus on cooking. Not when the world of hunting and fishing were so much more engrossing.
Sure enough, he walked out holding a plate and the latest issue of
Field and Stream
magazine. “Look at the size of these rainbow trout. Lester and I are planning a trip to north Georgia in a few days to hook some of these beauties.”
Sometimes she got annoyed because her father treated her cousin like the son he’d never had, but Lester Church had never known his father, so how could she begrudge him a hunting-and-fishing relationship with her dad?
“I’m sure y’all will have a great time.” She used the spatula to lift the filets onto the plate and set the steaming fish on the patio table. Dining with a view of the creek was the best thing about her father’s place. “Is Lester back from his part-time job with the moving company?”
“Came in a few days ago, but he’s been under the weather with a cold. Bessie’s been spoon feeding him chicken noodle soup and the boy hates all the attention. Says he’d rather sleep for a few days. But my sister won’t relent until he’s up and out of that bed.”
Laurie Ann bit her tongue. Aunt Bessie had spent her life coddling Lester, and consequently Lester thought the world owed him. With both of them only children, she shuddered at the thought she could have turned out like him.
“They’ll work it out. They always do. Go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring out the rest of dinner.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
She drained the potatoes and tossed in a whopping spoonful of butter. She’d tried to get her dad to cut back on starches and fats, but his yardstick was how his mother cooked, and there wasn’t any point in discussing health trends or cholesterol with him. She grabbed two beers from the fridge and the salad she’d brought over for dinner. Anything green was pushing it for her father, but she refused to eat like a cave man every time she visited.
After she brought the food outside, they dug into their meal. Marsh hens and bobwhites sang the sun down, and a light breeze wafted over the creek. She sat on her paper napkin.
Pushing his plate aside, her father looked at her for the first time that evening. “What’s this I hear about you being detailed on a special assignment?”
She shrugged. “Some arson hotshot from Atlanta is coming down to study the Pirate’s Cove blaze. I’m his official escort.”
His eyes didn’t miss the way she toyed with the last hunk of potato on her plate. “And?”
“And I have mixed feelings about the detail. Sure, it adds to my resume and pads my field experience when I test for investigator, but Chief Tyler assigned the scrap metal task force to a new guy in our squad. He even pulled me off my patrol route.”
Pete Dinterman whistled. “Who
is
this guy? Why does Tyler think he needs your full-time attention?”
“The chief acted like he was some big muckety-muck, but if he’s such a hot shot, why does he need me? I think this assignment is a trial investigation, but it cost me the task force. I feel like I’ve lost ground.”
“Policing isn’t linear like that. I spent thirty years dancing to my chief’s whim, and I never even gave testing for investigator a second thought. I loved being a patrolman. I was good at it, too.”
“Maybe some of my problems at the station are because people know I plan to test. The guys are always giving me a hard time.”
“Do I need to come down there and knock heads together?”
Her gut burned at the thought of her father interfering. “I’ll work it out, Dad, but being on the force seems like an uphill battle.”
“Ain’t easy to be a female cop. Add in your smarts and looks and the guys have to work double time to keep up with you. You’re going to make one fine investigator.”
“As long as I don’t make any mistakes between now and the written exam.”
“It’ll be a cakewalk for you. Dog this Atlanta guy and keep your nose clean, like I taught you. Soon you’ll outrank these yahoos giving you a rough time. That’s the best revenge.”
Chapter 4
The miles rolled by right on schedule. Wyatt North liked to operate on schedule. When events spiraled out of control, mistakes happened. He’d vowed never to be in that situation again.
He couldn’t afford a mistake now that his two-year hunt for a serial arsonist had heated up again. This time he wouldn’t be a step behind. This time he’d make good on his promise to his partner.
This restaurant fire fit the arsonist’s profile. Wyatt was closing in. Certainty thrummed through his veins as the miles rolled by.
Between Macon and Savannah his phone rang. “You coming home this weekend?” his brother Virgil asked after they’d talked a little Atlanta Braves baseball.
“Can’t make it,” Wyatt said, turning off the radio. “Got a new case. A restaurant fire down in Mossy Bog.”
Virgil didn’t respond right away. “I thought we talked about this. You weren’t going to chase dead ends anymore. There’s so much more to life than one arsonist.”
“You talked. I listened. I didn’t agree to anything.”
“You’re going to miss Allie’s birthday if you keep this up. She won’t like that.”
Allie was fourth in the North family birth order, but of the four boys and two girls, she was the most outspoken. “I’ll call her,” Wyatt conceded.
“She was counting on us all being there. I think Butler finally popped the question.”
“He’s a decent guy. He’ll take good care of her.”
“Since when do you approve? I thought Butler had serious shortcomings in your eyes.”
A red sports car zipped past his truck. Fool. Wyatt checked to make sure he was going the speed limit. “Butler and I had a come-to-Jesus moment when they visited me in Atlanta. He’d do anything for Allie. Can’t expect more than that.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“You were up to your scrawny neck with that blonde cheerleader woman. What was her name? Chloe?”
“Chloe Tramell.” Virgil sighed. “What a hottie.”
Another exit rolled by. “You still seeing her?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to end up like me. Take a lesson from Allie and find someone who thinks you make the sun rise each day.”
“You wouldn’t be alone if you’d make an effort. Women want you.”
“Women expect you to be at their beck and call. My job takes me all over the state. Nessa and Pat hated that I wasn’t dependable as an escort. I hated dealing with their disappointment.”
“You’ll find somebody. You haven’t met the right woman yet.”
Wyatt thought back to his phone call with the police chief and the woman he was about to meet. She had a no-nonsense voice, and she didn’t mince words. He liked that. They’d get along fine as long as she didn’t get in his way.
“Why do you think this fire was set by your arsonist?” Virgil asked.
“It’s a restaurant fire, and someone died. From initial reports, the place went up very fast. I’m banking on an accelerant, but I won’t know until I get down there and see the burn for myself.”
“Speaking of there, where the heck is Mossy Bog?”
“It’s a seaside town about an hour south of Savannah.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t have my arsonist.” He paused, wanting to tell more and deciding to confide in his brother. “I’ve got a feeling this time, Virg. I’m close.”
“I hope so. We want you to stop being obsessed with this guy.”
“I owe it to Bobby to catch him.”