Melting Point. Debra Cowan
“Yes,” he bit out. Collier’s usually even temper spiked. “If there’s a screw up, Russell, it won’t be because of me.”
She searched his eyes, then nodded. “Okay. Well, I want to check Gwen’s alibi for the night Lazano was killed and make sure she was really in Colorado like she said.”
“I can make some calls.”
“I will.”
“You can’t cut me out of everything.”
She eyed him coolly. “All right, you do it.”
“Done.” He wondered if things would always be so prickly with her. “On the way here, I stopped at each station house to show the picture of the fake firefighter.”
“Wow, the lab got to that really fast.”
He nodded. “Your copy is in my truck.”
“Did anyone recognize the guy?”
“No. Station One did tell me that some of their gear turned up missing in late September.”
“So that would coincide with when these fire murders started. Too bad we can’t find Mr. Fake in any of the earlier fire scene videos.” She brushed her hair over her shoulder.
Just once he’d like to get his hands in those red curls. “I can give you that photo print before we leave.”
“Great. Want to meet me outside in about fifteen minutes?”
“It’s a date,” he said.
“No—”
“Figure of speech, Russell. Don’t get your hopes up.”
Her eyes flashed. “You’re safe, McClain. Completely safe.”
He watched her walk away, totally hypnotized by the length of those legs and tried to remember why safe was what he wanted.
About seven-thirty the next evening, Kiley walked through the glass doors of Presley’s two-story community center. She’d been ordered by Lt. Hager to attend tonight’s dedication and grand unveiling of the new facility.
Though not fancy, the gray tiled floors were tasteful, as were the faux marble walls. The lobby stretched the length of the rectangular shaped building. Hallways on either side led to several rooms that would serve as meeting places for city employees as well as citizens’ events. The upper floor provided more space. Four sets of doors ahead of her opened into the large all-purpose room being used for tonight’s dedication.
After leaving her coat with a volunteer, she stepped through the nearest set of doors and took in the expansive area decorated with streamers and blue, white and gold balloons. A wooden stage centered at the opposite end of the room held a five-member band tuning their instruments. A cash bar was set up in the corner close to the stage.
The mayor, various city councilmen and women, and other city leaders strolled around. Kiley glimpsed the governor deep in conversation with Chief of Police Nick Smith. She spoke to several police officers who had shown up because they’d gotten the same memo she had from Lt. Hager. As she moved through the crowd, she recognized a few firefighters, too. All the men were dressed in suits or uniforms. The women sparkled in dressy, after-five attire. A tall blonde in a tight, black sequined dress cut down to there caught Kiley’s attention.
She had to look twice to make sure the woman wasn’t Gwen Hadley. The relief she felt reminded her of the earlier meeting with Collier’s former fiancée. Kiley typically didn’t feel out of her league with either men or women, but standing next to Gwen at that wake had made her feel invisible. The woman had flawless skin and a flawless figure, but she obviously had her share of problems, too. Kiley felt more sure of herself now, but she was still less steady than she liked around Presley’s newest fire investigator.
It was because of the emotion she’d seen in his eyes yesterday as he’d talked to his ex. The momentary flash of old hurt on his face had tapped at something deep inside Kiley. Gwen had made it clear she wanted to talk to Collier in private, but he had kindly refused. He’d probably been more kind than Kiley would’ve been if their roles were reversed.
The image of a solicitous Collier McClain certainly didn’t match that of the footloose bachelor she had heard about or seen at the Christmas dance. She told herself to forget about that emotion in his eyes, but for a brief period, she’d glimpsed the man. Not the fire investigator or the reputed Romeo, but a man who’d been hurt by a woman. She pushed away the thought. Emotions—his and hers—came a distant second to the business she needed to conduct with Collier. And business was all she cared about.
They had gotten no identification from the photo of the fake fireman, and they had spent the morning looking at mugshots. No luck there, either. They had begun sending e-mails and faxes to a list of surrounding prisons in Oklahoma, Texas and Louisiana, asking if any of them had recently released an arsonist.
Kiley’s afternoon had been taken up in court waiting to testify on a burglary arrest, and Collier had offered to finish sending the queries to the prisons. She hadn’t heard from him since before lunch when he’d told her Gwen Hadley’s alibi was solid. She wondered if he had learned anything new.
She expected he would be at tonight’s dedication, representing the fire investigator’s office in Terra’s absence. After Kiley spoke to Chief Smith and exchanged a few words with Lt. Hager and his wife, she made her way to the cash bar and ordered a ginger ale.
Despite the freezing temperatures outdoors and the veed back of her dress, the crowd of people inside kept her more than warm. It didn’t take long to spot Collier dancing in the center of the carpeted room. He wasn’t the tallest man here, so why had her gaze gone straight to him as if reeled there?
She should go ask him if he had any new information, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand near the stream of women who kept asking him to dance. In a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and muted red tie, he looked distinguished and commanding. He was clean shaven, the overhead light blunting the sharp angles of his jaw-and cheekbones, and still his appearance was rugged. She’d thought him blatantly male in his turnout gear, but the effect tonight was devastating. She could appreciate a gorgeous man even if she didn’t want him.
Recalling the bare chest she’d seen at his house, she knew the broad shoulders beneath that jacket were every bit real and not an illusion created by good tailoring.
Kiley hated these types of events, where she had to dress to the nines and schmooze with city officials. She would much rather be talking to the residents of Presley, for whom this center had been built, but Collier looked at ease as he chatted with members of city government who danced past him.
Watching him move on and off the dance floor with obscene regularity, Kiley saw no trace of the wounded man from yesterday. Just the heartbreaker she’d heard about, the one she planned to avoid. As a high-tempo dance song ended, he escorted Shelby Fox off the floor, and the pair joined a group in a corner that included Kiley’s sister, Kristin.
Deciding she’d rather talk to him in a crowd as opposed to alone, Kiley made her way toward the corner. She recognized Clay Jessup, the lanky cop who stood between her sister and Shelby, but the man to her sister’s left was unfamiliar. Kristin’s hair was the same dark gold as their mother’s, with enough wave to coax it into whatever style she wanted. Tonight she wore it down and loose, just as Kiley did. The fluttery white blouse she had paired with Kiley’s long black satin skirt was as dressy as the bronze knee-length dress Kiley had chosen.
More than one guy had asked Kristin to dance, but Kiley noted Collier hadn’t. Probably because he’d been too busy dancing with everyone else.
She walked up to the edge of the group, and her sister smiled. “Hi, Ki.”
“Hello.”
Kristin pulled her into the circle. “Does everyone know my sister?”
“Hey, Russell.” Clay Jessup smiled and Shelby waved.