Cavanaugh Reunion (8 page)

“This all stays here, right?” she questioned sharply. “What we just talked about, my background, it stays here, between us. It goes no further. Right?” This time it sounded more like an order than a question. Or, at the very least, like a sharply voiced request for a confirmation.

“Absolutely,” he assured her immediately. Pulling out of the spot and then merging onto the street, he slanted a glance in her direction. “But if you find you ever want to just talk about it—”

She cut him off before he could complete his offer. “I won’t.”

The lady doth protest too much,
he thought. “Okay,” he allowed. “But should hell begin to freeze over and you find that you’ve changed your mind, you know where to find me.”

“Don’t worry,” Kansas assured him. “I won’t be looking.”

She bottled things up too much, he thought. He’d had one of his friends, a firefighter at another house, discreetly ask around about this woman. She didn’t go out of her way to socialize and definitely didn’t hang out with the firefighters after hours. She was, for all intents and purposes, a loner. Loners tended to be lonely people, and while he had no illusions or desires to change the course of her life, he did want to offer her his friendship, for whatever that was worth to her.

“Ever heard that poem about no man being an island?” he asked.

She could feel her back going up even as she tried to tell herself that O’Brien didn’t mean anything by this. That he wasn’t trying to demean her.

“Yeah,” she acknowledged with a dismissive tone. “It was about men. Women have a different set of rules.”

He doubted that she really believed that. She was just being defensive. She did that a lot, he realized. “Underneath it all, we’re just human beings.”

“Stop trying to get into my head, O’Brien,” she warned. “You’ll find it’s very inhospitable territory.”

He debated letting this drop and saying nothing. The debate was short. “You’re trying too hard, Kansas.”

God, she hated her name. It always sounded as if the person addressing her were being sarcastic. “Excuse me?”

“I said you’re trying too hard,” he repeated, knowing that she’d heard him the first time. “You don’t have to be so macho. This isn’t strictly a man’s field anymore. Trust me, just be yourself and you’ll have the men around here jumping through hoops every time you crook your little finger.”

Was he serious? Did he actually think she was going to fall for that? “I don’t know if that’s insulting me or you. Or both.”

“Wasn’t meant to do either,” he said easily, making a right turn to the next corner. He slowed down as he did so and gave her a quick glance. “You really are a beautiful woman, you know.”

She straightened, doing her best to look indignant even as a warmth insisted on spreading through her. “I’d rather be thought of as an intelligent, sharp woman, not a beautiful one.”

He saw no conflict in that. “You can be both,” he answered matter-of-factly, then added more softly, “You are both.”

Kansas frowned. Oh, he was a charmer, this temporary partner of hers. He was probably accustomed to women dropping like flies whenever he decided to lay it on. Well, he was in for a surprise. She wasn’t going to let herself believe a word coming out of his mouth, no matter how tempting that was or how guileless he sounded as he delivered those words. She’d had the infection and gotten the cure. She was never going to allow herself to be led astray again. Ever.

“Don’t you know that ingesting too much sugar can lead to diabetes?” she asked sarcastically.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he promised, not bothering to keep a straight face. “Were the cross streets for that discount house Culver and Bryan?”

“Culver and Trabuco,” she corrected.

As soon as she said it, he remembered. “That’s right.” He laughed shortly. “After a while, all the names and descriptions start running together.”

“Not to me,” she informed him crisply. “Each and every one of the buildings are different. Like people,” she added.

The way she said it, he knew she wasn’t trying to sound high-handed or find fault with him. She meant it. It was almost as if every fire had a separate meaning for her.

Ethan had a feeling that the fire inspector he’d initially felt that he’d been saddled with had more than one outstanding secret in her closet. He meant to find out how many and what they were, although, for the life of
him, he couldn’t clearly state
why
he was so determined to do this. Why he wanted to unravel the mystery that was Kansas Beckett.

But he did.

T
hey were getting nowhere.

Five days of diligently combing through ashes, testimonies and the arrest records of felons who had a penchant for playing with fire hadn’t brought them to any new conclusions, other than to reinforce what they already knew: that there were some very strange sociopaths walking the earth.

Their lack of headway wasn’t for lack of tips. What they did lack for, however, were tips that didn’t take them on elaborate wild-goose chases.

With a frustrated sigh, Ethan leaned back in his chair. He rocked slightly as he stared off into space. The lack of progress was getting to him. The latest “person of interest” he was looking into turned out to have been in jail when the fire spree initially started. Which brought them back to square one.

Again.

“I’m beginning to feel like a dog chasing his own tail,” he said out loud, not bothering to hide his disgust.

Kansas looked up from the computer screen she’d been reading. “I’d pay to see that,” she volunteered.

Closing her eyes, Kansas passed her hand over her forehead. There was a headache building there, and she felt as if she were going cross-eyed. She’d lost track of the number of hours she’d been sitting here, at the desk that had been temporarily assigned to her, going through databases that tracked recent fires throughout the western states in hopes of finding something that might lead to the firebug’s identity. Every single possibility had led to a dead end.

There had to be something they were missing, she thought in exasperation. Fires that could be traced to accelerants just didn’t start themselves. Who the hell was doing this, and when was he finally going to slip up?

Noting the way Kansas was rubbing her forehead, Ethan opened his bottom drawer and dug out the container with his supply of extra-strength aspirin in it. In the interest of efficiency, he always bought the economy size. He rounded his desk and placed the container on top of hers.

The sound of pills jostling against one another as he set the bottle down had Kansas opening her eyes again. She saw the bottle, then raised her eyes to his. “What’s that?”

“Modern science calls it aspirin. You can call it whatever you want,” Ethan told her, sitting down at his desk again. Because she was looking at the oversized bottle as if she wasn’t sure what it might really hold, he
said, “You look like you have a headache. I thought a few aspirins might help.”

Picking the bottle up, Kansas shook her head in wonder. “This has
got
to be the biggest supply of aspirin I’ve ever seen.”

“We get it by the truckload around here,” Dax told her as he walked into the room, catching the tail end of the conversation. He raised his voice slightly to catch the rest of the task force’s attention. “I suggest you all take a few with you.”

Kansas swung her chair around to face Dax. A leaden feeling descended on her chest. There could be only one reason why he was saying that. “Another one?”

“Another one,” Dax confirmed grimly. “Just got the call.”

Ethan was on his feet, grabbing his jacket and slipping it on. “Where?”

“Down on Sand Canyon,” he answered. “The place is called Meadow Hills.”

Kansas stopped dead. She recognized the name instantly. “That’s a nursing home,” she said to Dax, but even as she said it, she was hoping that somehow she was wrong. She wasn’t.

Dax nodded, holding a tight rein on his thoughts. He was not about to let his imagination run away with him. “Yeah.”

Kansas shuddered, trying to curtail the wave of horror that washed over her. She couldn’t get the image of terrified senior citizens out of her head.

“What a monster,” she muttered.

“It’s still in progress,” Dax told them as they all
hurried out the door. “Luckily, the firefighters got there quickly again. They’ve been a regular godsend. They had a lot of people to clear out, and I’d hate to think of what might have happened if they’d delayed their response even by a few minutes.”

Kansas said nothing. She didn’t even want to think about it, about how helpless and frightened some of those older residents of the convalescent home had to feel, their bodies immobilized in beds as they smelled smoke and then having that smoke fill their fragile lungs.

Another wave of frustration assaulted her, intensifying the pain in her head.

“Why can’t we find this bastard?” she cried, directing the question more to herself than to any of the men who were hurrying down the hall along with her.

“Because he’s good,” Ethan answered plainly. “He’s damn good.”

“But he’s not perfect,” she shot back angrily.

“That’s what we’re all counting on,” Dax told her.

Reaching the elevator first, Kansas jabbed the down button. When it failed to arrive immediately, she turned on her heel and hurried over to the door that led to the stairwell.

Ethan was quick to follow her. “Running down the stairs really isn’t going to make that much of a difference,” he told her, watching the rhythmic way her hips swayed as she made her way to the door. “In the long run, it won’t get you there any faster.”

Kansas didn’t slow down. Entering the stairwell, she started down the stairs, her heels clicking on the metal steps.

“I know,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I just need to be moving.” She hadn’t really meant to share that. What was it about this man that seemed to draw the words out of her? That seemed to draw out other things, too? “It makes me feel as if I’m getting something accomplished.”

“We’re going to catch him,” Ethan told her with quiet affirmation once he reached the bottom step and was next to her.

She looked at him sharply, expecting to see that he was laughing at her and being condescending. But he wasn’t. He looked sincere. Which either meant that he was or that he was a better actor than she’d initially given him credit for.

Kansas went on the offensive. “You don’t really believe that.”

“Actually,” he told her, “I do.” They went down another flight, moving even faster this time. “I just don’t know how long it’s going to take. The more fires there are, the more likely it is that he’s going to trip up, show his hand, have someone catch him in the act.
Something,
” he underscored, “is going to go wrong for him—and right for us.”

Reaching the first floor, Kansas hurried to the front entrance. Not waiting for the others, she pushed it open with the flat of her hand.

“Meanwhile, the bastard’s turning Aurora into a pile of ashes.”

“Not yet,” Ethan countered. They were outside, but she was still moving fast. Heading toward his car. He kept up with her. “I take it that you don’t want to wait for the others.”

“They’ll meet us there,” she said, reaching his vehicle.

His keys in his hand, he hit the remote button that disarmed the security device. Getting in, he shook his head. “Ever have a partner before?” he asked Kansas.

She got in and buckled up, tension racing through her body. She was anxious to get to the site of the fire, as if her presence there would somehow curtail any further harm the fire might render.

“I don’t have one now,” she pointed out glibly. As far as she was concerned, “temporary” didn’t count.

The look Ethan gave her did something strange to her stomach. It felt as if she’d just endured an accelerated fifty-foot drop on a roller-coaster ride.

“Yeah,” Ethan corrected, “you do. Better adjust,” he advised mildly.

Mild or not, that got her back up. “And if I don’t?” she challenged, unconsciously raising her chin as if silently daring him to take a swing.

“It’d just be easier on everyone all around if you did. We’re all after the same thing,” he reminded her not for the first time. “Nailing this creep’s hide to the wall.”

She began to retort, then thought better of it. The man was right. This was her frustration talking, not her. Taking a deep breath, she forced out the words that needed to be said. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

He gave her a long glance. Had she just apologized to him? That wasn’t like her. “Don’t throw me a curve like that,” he told her, and she couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “I’m liable to jump the divider and crash this beautiful car.”

She noticed that he put the car first. The man really
was enamored with this cream-colored machine, wasn’t he?

“Very funny,” she cracked. “I admit I have a tendency to go off on my own, but it’s just that I’m so damn frustrated right now,” she told him. Then she elaborated: “We should have been able to find him by now.
I
should have been able to find him by now.”

“No, you had it right the first time,” he said quietly. “
We
should have been able to find this sicko by now.”

She was out of ideas and her brain felt as dry as the Mojave Desert. “What are we doing wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

There was a long moment of silence, and then he became aware of Kansas suddenly straightening in her seat. He was beginning to be able to read her. And she’d just thought of something. He’d bet money on it.

“Talk,” he told her. “What just suddenly occurred to you?”

So excited by what she was thinking, she could hardly sit still. But she answered Ethan’s question with one of her own. “Do we have any footage of the crowds that gathered around to see the outcome of these fires?”

“
We
don’t, but I’m sure the local news stations do. This is the kind of story that they live for.” With each fire, the coverage became that much more intense, lasting that much longer. He’d never known that so much could be said about any given topic. The media were in a class by themselves.

She didn’t care about the press. Reporters who earned a living focusing on people in possibly the worst moments of their lives had always struck her as annoying
at best. At worst they were vultures. But right now, they could unwittingly provide a useful service.

“Do you think we can get our hands on some of that footage?”

He personally couldn’t, but he figured Dax could. Or, if not him, then certainly the chief of D’s could. “Don’t see why not.” It didn’t take much to figure out where she was going with this. “You think our firebug’s in the crowd?”

She never liked committing herself, even though her answer was yes. “Worth a look.”

Ethan nodded. “I’ll ask Dax to requisition as much footage from each fire as is available. If he can’t, the chief can. I’ll tell him it’s your idea,” he added, just in case she thought he might be tempted to steal her thunder.

Because O’Brien was being magnanimous, she could return the favor, all the while reminding herself not to let her guard down. That would be a mistake. “
Our
idea,” she corrected. “We were brainstorming. Kind of.”

Ethan grinned. “You just might make it as a team member yet, Kansas.”

“Something to shoot for,” she allowed. Although she damn well knew that by the time she’d adjusted to being “one of the guys,” or whatever O’Brien wanted to call it, she’d be back at the firehouse, working on her own again.

It might, she couldn’t help thinking as she stole a side glance at Ethan, actually take a little adjusting on her part to make the transition back.

Who would have ever thought it?

When they arrived at the site of the newest fire some fifteen minutes later, chaos had settled in. The rather small front lawn before the nursing home was completely littered with vintage citizens, many of whom, despite the hour, were in their pajamas and robes. A number were confined to wheelchairs.

She saw several of the latter apparently on their own, deposited haphazardly away from the fire. One resident looked absolutely terrified. There weren’t nearly enough aides and orderlies, let alone nurses, to care for or reassure them.

As she started toward the terrified, wild-eyed old woman, Kansas’s attention was drawn away to the almost skeletal-looking old man who was lying on the grass. There was a large and burly firefighter leaning over the unconscious resident, and she could tell from the fireman’s frantic motions that the old man’s life hung in the balance.

Kansas held her breath as the firefighter, his protective helmet and gloves on the ground, administered CPR. He was doing compressions on the frail chest and blowing into the all-but-lifeless mouth.

A distressed nurse was hovering beside the firefighter like an anemic cheerleader, hoarsely giving instructions as he worked over the senior citizen.

“Now that’s really odd,” Kansas muttered under her breath.

Before Ethan could ask her what she meant, Kansas was already working her way through the crowd and over to the scene. By the time she reached them, the firefighter had risen unsteadily to his feet. His wide face was drawn and he was clearly shaken.

“I lost him,” he lamented in disbelief. The anguished words weren’t addressed to anyone in particular, but more to the world in general. It was obvious that the towering firefighter was berating himself for not being able to save the old man. “I lost him,” he cried again, his voice catching. “Oh God, I lost him.”

With effort, the nurse dropped to her knees. Steadying herself, she pressed her fingers against the elderly man’s throat, searching for any sign of a pulse. She didn’t find it.

The nurse sighed, shaking her head. Her next words confirmed what had already been said. “Mr. Walters is gone.” Looking up at the fireman, in her next breath she absolved him of any blame. “You did everything you possibly could.”

“I didn’t do enough,” the firefighter protested. He looked defeated and almost lost.

“Yes, you did,” the nurse said with feeling. She held her hand up to him and the distraught firefighter helped her to her feet. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. It was Mr. Walters’s time.”

The next moment, a reporter with one of the local stations came running over to the firefighter and the nurse. His cameraman was directly behind him. Thrusting his microphone at the duo, the reporter began firing questions at them, ready and willing to turn this tragedy into a human-interest sound bite in a blatant attempt to be the lead story of the hour tonight.

Kansas noted that the firefighter looked even more anguished than he had a few moments earlier as he began to answer the reporter’s questions.