Someone to Trust. Ginny Aiken

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      At the hospital, Rand headed for the ER entrance. He had to see how Wilma was doing. He’d worked part-time at the theater for her parents as a teen—collecting tickets, sweeping floors, serving popcorn—and he’d come to care deeply for them. Wilma herself? Well, she’d been interesting, that’s for sure.

      A free spirit all her life, Wilma left Loganton after graduation and wandered back home whenever an adventure came to its end, only to leave again once the lure of the open road—and a new adventure—became too potent to ignore. She’d finally come to stay when her mother’s rheumatoid arthritis grew too painful for her to keep working and her father lost his battle with macular degeneration and went blind.

      The older Tuckers had moved into the Pines Retirement Community on the outskirts of Loganton, and Wilma had restored the theater to its lush, roaring-twenties original glory. Rand knew Augie and Ruth Tucker would have a hard time coping with their daughter’s injuries and the devastation of their family business.

      At the information desk, he asked about Wilma and was told to take a seat in the waiting room. Doctors were working on her and a nurse would give him an update once the desk was notified of her condition.

      As he dropped into the maroon armchair, his thoughts flew back to the conversation he’d had with Neal while the EMTs loaded Joe and Wilma into the ambulances.

      Rand couldn’t figure out what might have started the fire—yet. Neal had said it looked as though the blaze had begun in the basement, toward the front of the building. Wilma must have taken longer than usual closing up after the seven-forty-five showing.

      From his days working for the Tuckers, Rand knew the basement was practically empty. A cinder-block wall with a metal door in the middle blocked off the area under the lobby. Augie Tucker had developed black and white photos there years ago, but he’d sold the equipment and emptied out the space when his eyes had started to fail sometime during Rand’s junior year in college. He couldn’t see how the fire had started where Neal suspected—nothing flammable had been kept there.

      Of course, Wilma could have started storing things in the basement after taking over the theater. Nothing fed a fire better than piles of junk. But the thought of Wilma—the original minimalist who’d lived most of her adult years out of a backpack—storing junk was almost laughable.

      Rand’s gut told him there was more to that fire than just fire. While common sense reminded him of the building’s age and dry condition, years of fighting and investigating fires had left him with a good nose for trouble.

      He looked up at the sound of footsteps. Cate walked into the waiting room. Before he could stop himself, he asked. “Where are the kids?”

      “The kids? You mean the twins and Lindsay?”

      “Of course. I hope you didn’t just run out on them.”

      Her brows drew close and her lips tightened. “I’d never leave three little kids alone. No matter how scared I was about Dad. Miss Tabitha’s with them.”

      “They’ll be scared about their grandfather, don’t you think?”

      “Once I hear how he’s doing, I’ll go home and make sure they know he’s going to…going to be okay.”

      The wobble in Cate’s voice told him how scared she was. Sympathy again filled him, but before he could say anything, she went on.

      “You didn’t really expect me to stay tucked under my blanket while Dad’s life was on the line, did you?”

      The shine of tears brightened her chocolate eyes. Maybe he’d been too hard on her. He knew she loved her father. And Joe had told Rand a number of times how much Cate had changed, how responsible she was.

      She probably also loved her niece and nephews and Rand was glad to know she’d arranged for Miss Tabitha, one of Loganton’s true pillars, to stay with the youngsters. But as wonderful as Miss Tabitha was, she was quite an elderly woman. Was she up to watching two ten-year-old boys? An eight-year-old girl?

      Now that Joe Caldwell was injured, Rand would have to make sure the kids didn’t lack supervision. He owed as much to their late father, his older cousin Ross. In the interest of keeping peace, he decided not to say anything more to Cate about the kids. He’d just do what he thought best for them.

      Rand hadn’t had much contact with them while he worked in Charlotte, but with Joe as their guardian, he knew they’d been in good hands. But now? Rand wasn’t about to just leave them in Cate’s care without at least checking up on their well-being.

      “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” she said in the growing silence.

      Rand shrugged. “The blaze is under control and the guys can finish up. I’m sure you know we have to wait for things to cool down before we can start looking for answers.” He shot a glance toward the large double doors to the ER. “The Tuckers are like family to me. I want to know how Wilma’s doing before I go out to the Pines to tell her folks.”

      She arched a brow. “You’re going to tell them? I would have thought the new police chief would do that.”

      “I told Neal to let the PD know I wanted to be the one to talk to them. I don’t want to see any more of the Tuckers in the hospital. It’s going to hit them hard, and if Chief Rodgers just shows up, it could make things worse.”

      In a gesture full of exhaustion, Cate tipped her head back against her chair, her eyes closed but her features tense. “You might still want to take Ethan Rodgers with you when you go talk to them. After what happened tonight, I suspect they’re going to see a lot of him in his official capacity during the next few weeks.”

      His gut tightened and he knew his initial instinct had been right on target. “What’s going on?”

      Through half-closed eyelids, she gave him a long, measuring look. “Ethan’s going to need your help.”

      Rand СКАЧАТЬ