Trial by Fire. Cara Putman

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СКАЧАТЬ teeth ground so hard that Noah heard them. “You can wait for my report along with everyone else.”

      Caleb shook his head. “Sorry, but I work homicides. If someone set this fire, I need to know, so I can track down suspects. Yesterday. Before anything else happens.”

      “You’ve made a dangerous assumption, kid. You’re an investigator? Then you should know the importance of keeping an open mind.”

      Noah wouldn’t wager on who would hold out longest. Both men looked entirely too used to getting their way. He choked down a chuckle. Someone would lose this time. Noah took a step back. He didn’t want to be collateral damage caught in the cross fire. Good thing he kept his ego in line. Most of the time.

      Caleb tightened his stance and stared at Weary. “Is he always this arrogant, Brust?”

      “That’s the rumor.” Noah shot a glance at Weary. Maybe honesty wasn’t the best policy right now.

      “As long as my family is involved, I’ll follow this investigation. Nothing happens to them on my watch.”

      Caleb’s tone of voice sounded defensive. His reaction seemed to extend beyond taking care of his own. “I’ll keep you updated,” Noah said.

      With a nod, Caleb spun on his heel and stalked out of the yard. At the fence, he paused, then returned. “Brust?”

      “Yeah?”

      “Here’s my contact info. Give me a call when you have a moment.” He held out his business card. Challenge filled his eyes, this time directed squarely at Noah.

      Noah nodded in one quick motion, taking the card from his hand. Jamison left Noah rubbing the back of his neck.

      “Whenever you’re done staring after the LPD, I could use your help.”

      Noah crouched beside Weary. “What’s up?”

      “See this line here? There’s extra charring in the wood. This is the line of accelerant. Go get the buckets from my trunk. It’s time to clear back the debris.”

      Noah nodded, and didn’t bother pointing out that he’d said exactly the same thing about the accelerant a few minutes ago.

      “My guess is plain ol’ gasoline. We’ll take debris back to the lab for some tests, but if it’s gas, there won’t be much to trace and it’ll take weeks to get the results.” Weary rubbed a hand across his cheek, leaving a streak of soot. Weary gestured toward his kit. “Grab the buckets. Time to put you to work.”

      The afternoon flew by in a flurry of following Weary’s garbled instructions, and then rushing back to the fire station for his regular shift. Fortunately, there were no callouts to fires. Even so, the smell of smoke saturated him after the time at the scene. Usually such a day would leave Noah bored, but when he drove home after dinner, he was grateful for the chance to catch his breath.

      He entered his ground-floor apartment and kicked the stack of mail away from the slot in the door. Jessie, his two-year-old golden retriever mix, tore around the corner, feet sliding on the linoleum. “Hey, girl. Ready for some exercise?”

      Fifteen minutes later, Noah had changed and was taking a casual jog. He gritted his teeth against the pain that pulsed through his knee. He had to push past this or he’d never get back to top form. The pain made a good distraction from the day, and Tricia Jamison. Jessie pulled him through the neighborhood, and Noah was ready to put the day behind him. Tomorrow would be better. He had a date. One Graham had set up. Hopefully, this one would be an improvement over the last debacle. As soon as they reentered the apartment, the phone rang as he scanned his mail.

      “Hello?”

      “I’m looking for Noah Brust.”

      “You’ve got him.” The voice tickled a corner of his memory.

      “Okay.” A long pause stretched as he waited for the woman to speak.

      “Look, can I help you?”

      An expulsion of air rushed through the phone. “I hope so. This is Tricia Jamison. I’d like an update. Caleb said you hadn’t called yet.”

      Tricia Jamison. So much for not thinking about her again tonight. How could he feel a pull to her from a few words? A flash of something unsettling followed the thought. He growled in the confusion. “What is it with you and your brother wanting answers? It’ll take a while. How did you get my home number?”

      “You’re in the phone book.” Defensiveness laced her voice, but the words stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. I really wanted to make sure you won’t let our past interfere with your investigation.”

      Our past? She said it like something had actually developed between them. Something more than just his imagination. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

      “Truly?”

      He took a deep breath. Why did she push so hard? “Yes. I know it’s hard to worry about someone you love. I promise, as soon as there’s information, I’ll get it to your mother.”

      “All right.” A hitch in her voice communicated how important this must be to her. “I need to know that she’ll be okay.”

      “There’s no reason to worry.” He looked at his watch and slid down the hall to his bedroom. “Anything else?”

      “I guess not.”

      “Great.” He kicked off his shoes. Time to end this conversation. “Next time call the fire department.”

      A huff of air sounded. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you with questions again.” She hung up before he could respond.

      He stared at the phone, tempted to call her back and apologize. He’d been rude, which wasn’t like him at all. She was right—he let their past influence his behavior. But the thought of admitting it made his stomach turn. Besides, did it matter if she thought him rude? It wouldn’t bother her for long. He remembered how she’d been at the trial—so confident and self-assured. She hadn’t cared about what he’d thought or said back then. If she had, she wouldn’t have let him down.

      Nope, he didn’t need to call her back. He needed to plan tomorrow night’s date. If he concentrated on that, then maybe he’d forget the hot-tempered attorney with beautiful doe eyes and a great smile.

      THREE

      Saturday

      Tricia parked in front of the Green Gateau Café near the Haymarket area and collected her thoughts. The day had lagged, not helped at all when Mom had called to remind her that today was their weekly tea and dessert. Tricia loved her mom and the café, but exhaustion weighed her down. She didn’t have the energy to enjoy the company or the treat.

      She stared at the ivy crawling up the brick front of the building and steadied her breathing. The café was one of her favorite spots, with its stained-glass window embedded in the ceiling and the antiques, lending an old-world feel to the place. If only the conversation could match the ambience. Some hitch in her mom’s voice had a knot tightening in Tricia’s stomach. The tension wouldn’t ease no matter how often she breathed slowly СКАЧАТЬ