Up in Flames [The Heroes of Silver Springs 10] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (24 page)

“What about cases early in his career?” Regina would’ve been a year old in 1985. Max seriously doubted Ethan Zimmer had discussed fire investigation with his baby daughter.

“What about them, Max?” The hint of warning in her tone was getting thicker and more pronounced.

Max watched as her eyes widened, electric bolts of temper shooting through their light-blue depths, and he knew he’d just let the pit bull out of its cage.

Regina balled her gloved hands into fists, planted them on her hips, and glared at him. “Have you been investigating my father?” Her voice rose with each word until the last came out in a near shriek.

“I asked Ford Harris to look into his background as a fire investigator, to dig through his cases from the start of his career forward, and see if there might be anything relevant to the Flame Jumper.”

“In other words, you
had
my father investigated,” Regina shot back.

Shit. Max knew the only way to mollify the situation was to stay calm. If he met her temper for temper they’d create a backdraft in the building so fast neither of them would escape it without getting burned.

“I had a feeling there might be something there that he’d forgotten about, someone he put away that’s out now and coming after you, someone he didn’t catch, or, hell, even a grieving family member looking for revenge. Your father had a long career, Gina. I’m sure he stepped on some toes over the years, and I’m sure he’s forgotten about some of those toes, too.”

“He has severe arthritis, Jasper, not Alzheimer’s,” Regina said through gritted teeth.

Great, now she was calling him Jasper. Next, he would find himself right back to being Lieutenant Insufferable
Nuisance Ass again.

Max struggled to stay calm. It was getting more difficult by the second. “Do you remember every detail of every fire scene you’ve investigated, Gina?”

She opened her mouth to speak, actually made a sound, and clamped her lips closed again. “Not
every
detail of
every
one,” she finally admitted.

“Then I’ve proved my point. Look.” Max sighed and started to rake a frustrated hand through his hair before he remembered he was wearing the spare fire helmet he kept in his truck. “I know I should’ve told you I asked Ford to look into this. I didn’t know if it would turn up anything and I didn’t want to hurt you or piss you off.”

“Well, guess what, genius, you did both.”

Genius? Hey, they were making progress already. Being called genius was far better than
Lieutenant Insufferable
Nuisance Ass.

Max started to apologize but, damn it, did he really have anything to apologize for? Yeah, okay, maybe he should’ve told her, but he had told her he would do whatever he could to help her, hadn’t he?

“Do you want to know what Ford found or you want to bite my head off some more?”

She glared at him unspeaking for a long moment, obviously stewing. “Tell me what you found and I’ll reserve the option to bite your head off some more when you’re finished.”

Max bit his tongue on the instant retort that sprang to his mind. Now wasn’t the time for a sexual remark like, “Hey, if you want to bite my head off, I’d prefer if you nibble on the one at the end of my cock.” Naw, she wouldn’t take too kindly to statements like that right now.

“Twenty-eight years ago, your father investigated what he deemed to be an accidental kitchen fire in which a mother was burned to death and her seven-year-old daughter was rescued by the firemen called to the scene.”

Regina’s gloved hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, that poor little girl. Tell me she didn’t see her mother burn to death.”

“I don’t have all the specifics. I haven’t seen the actual report. You’ll have to go through the proper channels and request it if you want to read it. The one thing I know, the one thing that immediately stood out to Ford, which is why he brought this particular fire to my attention, is that the cause of the fire was a citronella lamp.”

Regina’s hand slowly dropped from her mouth, and Max all but saw the wheels in her head start to turn. “You’re thinking this little girl watched her mother burn, grew up, tormented my father with a string of fires, waited four years, and then came to Silver Springs to bring the torture to me all because he closed the case as an accident?”

Actually, Max hadn’t had the chance to think that far into it since Ford gave him the information at the cookout, but now that she’d put it that way…“It’s a possibility. Maybe she blames your father for some reason. Maybe she wanted credit for the fire, and he didn’t give it to her.”

“She was seven freaking years old, Max!”

They were back to Max again. Good. Maybe he’d escape this conversation with his head intact after all. “You know as well as I do, the taste for arson can start at any age. From what Ford said about the information he was told, it was put in the report that the mother had the lit citronella lamp in the kitchen. Maybe the daughter was the one who had it instead. For whatever reason, the daughter was playing with lamp, her mother caught her, likely startled her into knocking it over, the citronella splashed onto the mother, and the flames followed the trail.”

“And the little girl wanted credit for that?” Regina sounded as appalled by the scenario as Max felt.

“As I said, it’s a possibility. All we can do is make assumptions right now. Until you get that report, run a background check on this Joyce Randolph—that’s the little girl’s name, by the way—and see if we’re even remotely on the right track, we can’t see the true fact or form the opinions you like to work off of.”

“Fine.” Regina tore off her gloves and stalked past him back to the front of the building. “We’re wasting time here. I’ve got all I need from this crime scene for now. Take me to my house so I can get my car and get to work.”

Max pursed his lips as she stomped out the door. She didn’t wait for his reply or bother to look back and see if he was following her. If she thought he was going to drive her home and let her out at the curb, she better think again. She might be pissed at him, but hell, he was used to that. He knew exactly what to do to make her un-pissed just as quick, and he didn’t intend on leaving her side until he did it.

Max pulled his truck into Regina’s driveway behind her car and cut the engine. “I take it you’re still mad at me.”

“Yep.” Regina wrenched open the passenger door and hopped out, not saying another word. She slammed the door and dug in her handbag for her keys as she walked briskly up the sidewalk to her front door. She’d barely made it three steps when she heard Max’s door slam behind her. Damn it, for once, why wouldn’t the man just give up?

“I don’t suppose you’ll take a second and listen to reason?”

Regina stopped at the foot of the stairs leading to her front porch and whirled on him. He’d already caught up with her, stopping in his tracks barely an arm’s length away. “You put my father’s career under a fucking microscope, Max.”

He nodded once and hooked his thumbs in the front pocket of his jeans. “I did, and it might have paid off.”

His calm, cool demeanor only served to piss her off more. “You could’ve told me. You could’ve asked me. Hell, you could’ve suggested
I
do it. Instead, you went behind my back and investigated my father like he’s some kind of criminal.”

“I asked someone to look into his career,” Max countered, his voice even and so conversational it made her blood boil. “There’s a big difference, Gina.”

Regina poked a finger at her chest so hard it hurt. “You should’ve asked me.” She spun around, stomped up the porch steps, and shoved her house key in the knob.

“Would you have done it?” His coolly asked question made her pause in the act of pushing open the door.

Would she have? She wanted to think so. She wanted to believe her investigation would have led her to make that decision. It did make logical sense even if she didn’t want to admit it right now.

“Well, now, I guess we’ll never know because you didn’t give me the chance, did you?” She pushed open the front door, stalked inside, and pushed the door closed behind her. She knew when she didn’t hear it slam that he’d taken the liberty of following her.

“You shouldn’t leave your newspaper on the front porch. It’s supposed to rain later tonight.”

Regina tossed her keys and handbag on the coffee table and headed for her bedroom. She’d fallen asleep last night going over the faxed printouts of information the Kingston office had sent her on the fires from four years ago. She’d need those if she intended to spend tonight in her office.

“I don’t subscribe to the newspaper.” She raised her voice so he could hear her as she made her way down the hall. “It’s probably a complementary issue. Toss it in the trash on your way out.”

“Seriously? You don’t get the newspaper delivered every day?” Max actually sounded astonished, his voice getting louder as he followed her to her bedroom.

Regina shot a glance at him as she started organizing the files on her bed. “This is the twenty-first century. I do like nearly everyone else in the new millennium. I sit down with a cup of coffee and my computer every morning and read the news on the web.”

Max tsked, shaking his head as he unfolded the newspaper. “Technology has ruined some of the greatest old traditions.”

Regina scoffed, dropping to her knees on the side of her bed to gather the papers she’d knocked off in the night. “Yeah, this coming from the man whose spare bedroom is decked with the latest gadgets and gizmos money can buy.”

“My gadgets and gizmos all have scientific purposes. That doesn’t mean I don’t—”

Papers in hand, she slung them onto the top of the bed and put her hand on the mattress to push herself up. She stopped when she glanced at Max and saw the expression on his face. “What?” She settled back on her heels, waiting for him to answer. “Hel-
lo
, you want to tell me what’s got you so engrossed in today’s paper?”

“This isn’t today’s paper, Gina.” His tone held an odd ring to it, the kind that made her feel like a dozen tiny centipedes were crawling down her spine. “It’s the Kingsford Press.”

Regina cocked her head to one side and drew her eyebrows together. “Why would a Kingsford newspaper be delivered to my front door?”

“My guess is Joyce Randolph wanted to make damn sure you knew the Flame Jumper is in town.” His gaze lifted from the paper and slammed into hers. “The date on this paper is four years ago, Gina, and the article circled is about the daycare she torched.”

* * * *

Max knew now was not the time to get a hard-on, but damn if he could convince his cock of that. He settled back on Regina’s bed, watching her pace the bedroom floor, and couldn’t stop himself from thinking about peeling her clothes from her sinfully arresting body layer by agonizing layer.

Even clad in full turnout gear, save for the helmet she’d ditched when she’d entered the bedroom, the woman was sexy as hell when she walked. She was sexy as hell when she got that faraway look in her eyes that told him she was deep in thought. She was sexy as hell barely a half hour ago when she’d been firing hot daggers of full-blown temper from those eyes, too.

Face it, Max. The woman is sexy as hell no matter what she’s doing.

Yep, that summed it up nicely, and the effect of every bit of it had settled in his groin, stiffening his cock and tightening his balls.

He listened as she left a third message in as many minutes on someone’s voicemail, punched the “end call” button, threw her head back, and growled. He couldn’t stop his gaze from traveling down the slender column of her neck any more than he’d been able to stop himself from thinking about getting her naked. His mouth watered, his tongue aching to lick its way down the pulse he saw beating a rapid staccato in the side of her neck.

Her head lifted after a moment, and she looked at him, pure frustration swirling in her light-blue eyes. “No one is answering.”

“It’s Sunday, Gina,” he reminded her. “I’m not sure who you were trying to call, but most people are off work, spending time with their families, and some are headed to church.” He glanced at the clock on her nightstand and corrected himself. It was after seven at night. “Some are already in church.”

“Sunday or not, there should be someone at the Kingsford investigations office. I can’t get through to anyone. I need that report on the fire from twenty-eight years ago.” She slammed her eyes shut and pushed a hard breath from her lungs. “I can call my father and see what he remembers.”

“But you don’t want to do that,” Max concluded.

“I don’t want to drag him back into this. Not now. Not yet.” She sighed and tossed her iPhone on the end of the bed. “If we catch her…” She shook her head and started again. “
When
we catch her, he’ll have to be involved. He was the investigator on all the fires. He’ll have to testify to his findings.”

“Will Gage be the one to prosecute?”

Regina nodded. “For Kingsford, yes. There’s no statute of limitation on felony arson in Alabama, or Mississippi for that matter. Here, the case will fall to Remy Ward, the arson prosecutor in our office.”

“Come here.” Max extended an arm, half surprised when she didn’t argue. She moved close enough for him to hook his arm around her waist and pull her onto his lap. “Take a break. Give your mind time to absorb everything and start fresh in the morning.”

Her head started shaking before he finished his last sentence. “I can’t. There’s plenty of other things I can do without the information on the fire in 1985. I can tap into the databases from my computer here, run a background check on this Joyce Randolph, find out who her mother was, and run a check on her, too. If you’re right about Joyce being the Flame Jumper, there’s still more to it we don’t know. She’s still out there.”