Gold Fire (11 page)

“I don’t know,” he said, because he didn’t want to say she’d stayed in the parking lot alone for several minutes, doing who knew what.

He didn’t have to say it. “She set the fire, didn’t she?” Jennifer asked.

Shit. He didn’t want to think it, but her words buzzed like hornets in his ears, insisting he pay attention. If Jennifer was telling the truth, Zoe couldn’t have been talking to her the whole time she’d been out of view. He’d replayed the security video and noted how much time had elapsed between her car driving in and leaving—nearly six minutes. Plenty of time to talk about a sale at Marlene’s. Or to open the shed, douse some newspapers with gasoline, and strike a match.

If it hadn’t been her, then someone had used a different approach. “Someone could have sneaked in from the woods without being seen,” he theorized aloud.

Jennifer looked doubtful. “Who?”

Anyone. Just so he didn’t have to feel this gut-twisting resignation that said Zoe had committed arson.

“They’d get pretty scratched up that way,” Jennifer mused. “And they’d have to leave their car on the road where everyone could see it while they hiked in and out. If it was me, I’d just drive right in. Like Zoe did.”

“If she did it.” He didn’t like hearing it stated as a certainty.

Jennifer sighed with obvious impatience. “What’s that thing Russ always says about a razor?”

Hell. “Occam’s razor. The simplest explanation is usually the right one.” He frowned in annoyance, and not just at her conclusion. It hadn’t taken Jennifer long to accept the idea that Zoe had started the fire. “You don’t like her much, do you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know her. That makes it easy to be objective.”

Implying that he wasn’t? “I’m objective,” he said, annoyed.

Jennifer broke off a piece of charred drywall, rolling it in her hand and avoiding his gaze. “You seem distracted around her. Maybe she’s hitting on you.”

He snorted. “Trust me, she’s not.”

“She came here to see you, didn’t she?”

“She’s trying to persuade me to sell.”

“Maybe she’s doing that by pretending to be attracted to you.”

“She hates me, no pretending about it.”

She was quiet for a moment, then tossed the fragment of drywall into the soggy ashes. “I don’t know, Jase, I get a funny feeling from her. Like she’s up to something. Something secretive.”

He got a funny feeling from her, too, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t the same one Jennifer got. “She’s up to something, but it’s no secret. She wants me to sell.”

Jennifer tilted her head, watching him. “Or she just wants you, period.”

Hot pressure settled in his groin at the thought of
Zoe wanting him. He dismissed it with a touch of irritation. But this was a first—in all the years she’d worked for him, Jennifer never had a word to say about his love life. Admittedly, Zoe was pretty, and had a certain something that he found attractive—hell, nearly irresistible—but why Jennifer would care was beyond him. It wasn’t like . . .

The thought that had sneaked into his brain tingled across his scalp, raising the fine hairs on his neck. He gave Jennifer a sidelong glance. Could she be jealous of Zoe?

The idea made him so uncomfortable he turned away, looking at anything but her. Not Adam’s wife. Not the woman he’d known as a friend ever since Adam started dating her. The woman who’d been inconsolable at Adam’s death, and locked in a shell ever since. He knew how deeply she’d been hurt.

With a small jolt he realized what he had no desire to acknowledge. If she were finally coming out of that self-imposed isolation, putting her wounded heart on the line, he would be the man most likely to understand her loss. The safest choice and the easiest to trust.

Jase shuffled his feet nervously, kicking up unpleasant odors from the ash. It was possible in a sad, bittersweet way. Jennifer had never shown a hint of romantic interest in men since Adam’s death. She’d never shown any interest in Jase’s love life, either, never mentioning the women who had briefly become his lovers. Maybe that reserve had finally cracked, with her first, cautious feelings directed toward him.

If so, he would have to be very careful. He cared very much about Jennifer, but not in a romantic way.
He didn’t want to see her fragile feelings damaged. Fortunately, she didn’t have anything to worry about when it came to Zoe Larkin.

“Whatever Zoe might have pretended to feel for me won’t matter after today. Not if I turn that video over to the police.”

She nodded. “Good.”

He would worry later about what to do if Jennifer decided to take it to the next level and make a move on him. He’d have to find a way to let her down easy without damaging her confidence. And then he had to do something about getting himself a normal love life, because fending off his dead friend’s widow and having hot fantasies about a possible arsonist weren’t working for him.

•  •  •

The string of touristy shops flanking the Alpine Sky resort resembled nothing more than a small Bavarian village. It was a design they were putting to good use. Zoe stood at the center of the stone-cobbled public square, supervising the erection of a band shell for the upcoming Beer and Brats Festival. Preparations for the event were on schedule, but she still didn’t welcome interruptions from the front desk.

“Run the electric cables behind those trees,” she called out to one of the workers before speaking into her phone. “Geoff, can you ask Mark to handle whatever you need? I’ve got a lot going on here.” As she spoke, she gestured at a stand of pine trees for the benefit of the sound guy.

“Um, I don’t think so.” Geoff’s voice sounded tentative in her ear. “There are two police officers here, and they asked to see you.”

She stilled, slowly lowering her arm. The police could be there for any number of reasons—problems with a guest; an ordinance violation; they’d even shown up once to euthanize a wounded elk. But her thoughts flew to Jase’s accusation of arson, sending a chill through her body, and she had to make a conscious effort to keep her voice steady. “Of course, I’ll be right there.”

She saw them as she crossed the lobby from the terrace entrance, a young man and a middle-aged woman in the brown uniforms of the Barringer’s Pass police force. They stood by the front desk, hands resting on the heavily equipped belts that made them intimidating in a larger-than-life way. Geoff hovered nearby. Belatedly, she wished she’d told him to have them wait in her office, where they wouldn’t attract the stares of curious guests.

She was grateful for the sharp click of her heels on the marble floor. The sound always made her feel professional and in control. She stopped in front of them, a polite expression pasted on her face. “May I help you?”

The man straightened to an imposing height, putting both hands on his hips. “Are you Zoe Larkin?”

“Yes. I’m the manager on duty. How may I help you?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us, ma’am.”

Her heart fluttered and fell. “What?”

He didn’t move, didn’t even blink. “We need to take you in for questioning regarding the fire at the Rusty Wire Saloon.”

The clipped words made it clear he meant
right this second
. Zoe’s eyes darted to the female officer, but her
gaze was as flat and hard as her partner’s. “I, uh, really shouldn’t leave. Could we talk in my office?”

“I’m afraid not.” It might have sounded kind, almost apologetic, if he hadn’t looked like he was facing down a murder suspect. His finger twitched slightly at his belt and she had sudden fantasies of him whipping out the cuffs.

When he reached into his breast pocket, she flinched, then relaxed when he produced a folded piece of paper. He thrust it at her. “We also have a warrant to search your car.”

She felt suddenly light-headed. “M-my car?”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was the female officer. “We’ll need your keys, and you can show us where it’s parked.”

She stared, openmouthed. My God, they seriously suspected her of arson! Jase hadn’t wasted any time. The consequence he’d threatened slammed back into her mind: prison.

Zoe put a hand on the counter for support, trying to make it look casual, while her head buzzed with static. She had to pull herself together. She wouldn’t fall apart, not in front of her staff. Image mattered. The whole town had taught her that lesson when they’d refused to forget her rebellious youth. She’d spent years repairing her reputation, working hard, gaining credibility and respect. Now it was about to vanish in a matter of seconds. All because Jase didn’t believe her.

She turned to Geoff, struggling to keep her voice calm. “Geoff, could you call Bill and ask him to cover for me until I get back?”

“Sure, uh, when, I mean how long . . . ?”

“Not long.” She hoped. She wouldn’t even consider
the possibility that she wouldn’t be coming back. The police might suspect her, but she was innocent. They couldn’t possibly have evidence against her. They wouldn’t find any in her car, either. They were just trying to intimidate her.

They were doing a good job of it.

“Car keys?” the female officer reminded her.

She swallowed hard. “They’re in my office.” The woman followed her, as if she might make a break for it. She took the keys, then stood aside to follow Zoe back to the lobby. Zoe walked outside without a backward glance, not wanting to see the shock on Geoff’s face. At the curb she paused beside the two police cars, pointing to the employee lot. “It’s around the corner, the red Ford Escort.”

“You’re going to have to take us there, ma’am.”

Great. She walked halfway around the main building, drawing attention with her armed, uniformed escort, then walked back again with the serious young cop who seemed a little too satisfied with his role. He helped her into the backseat, then got behind the wheel.

He was silent through the ten-minute ride, never acknowledging her on the other side of the glass divider. If it was a deliberate attempt at dehumanizing her, it was effective. So was the condition of the car. She wrinkled her nose and looked around the stripped-down backseat. Scratches marred the back of the hard plastic seat, probably from handcuffs, and an unpleasant odor emanated from the floor. She sat forward, hands locked on her knees to keep the trembling inside her from shaking her whole body.

She’d never imagined herself in the backseat of a
police car, and could barely grasp the reality. She was a suspect.

Fear shook her clear to the bone, but hate kept her focused. Jase Garrett would pay for this. Accusing her of arson was bad enough, but she’d been sure nothing would come of his threat after he talked to Jennifer. She had a witness, for heaven’s sake! But he’d turned it into an investigation anyway.

She hated him. It was time to stop being decent with him.

•  •  •

Zoe was starting to sweat under her arms. She was pretty sure it wasn’t the temperature of the room, since Officer Carlson looked cool as a cucumber. It was her temper, which she’d rediscovered twenty minutes into the repetitive, detailed questioning, and which was seriously ramping up.

She’d been patient the first time through the story, describing her reason for going to the Rusty Wire, her conversation with Jennifer, then how she’d taken another minute to check her phone messages before driving home. She’d even filled the whole page provided for the written version of the story, writing until her hand cramped. She hadn’t used that much longhand since high school.

But Carlson was pushing her to her limit, going back over different points in her story and getting the same responses. Yes, Jennifer had told her Jase wasn’t there. No, she hadn’t left a message for him. No, she hadn’t seen anyone else. Really, how much could she say about five uneventful minutes of her life? If he expected her to break under the unbearable boredom, it just might happen. But he wouldn’t get a confession.
What he’d get was a lecture on police harassment and a threat to call her attorney, who she was going to look into retaining as soon as Carlson let her out of here.

Carlson leaned forward. “Let’s go back to the point where you had just pulled around the building and spotted Jennifer.”

“Why?”

He didn’t like that. “I don’t need to give you a reason, Miss Larkin. I need you to answer the question. Now—”

He broke off as the door opened. Zoe looked up, eyes going wide with surprise. “Cal!”

“Hi, Zoe.” Maggie’s husband gave her a quick smile before he turned a tight expression on Carlson. “I need to see you a minute, Carlson.”

“I have a couple more—”

“Now.” Even in jeans and a T-shirt, Cal’s voice had the same authority it had when he was in his police uniform. Carlson responded to it, abruptly leaving and closing the door behind him.

Zoe waited. It took less than a minute. Cal opened the door, shaking his head in disgust. “Come on, you’re done. I’ll give you a ride back to work.”

She didn’t ask questions, gratefully following Cal’s long strides to his pickup. Night had fallen while she was inside, leaving the parking lot bathed in bluish-white halogen lights. She climbed into the truck and turned to him as he pulled out of the lot. “How did you know I was here?”

“Heard it on the police scanner at home. Sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, but I had to see that security tape first, to see if they really had a case against you.”

She almost didn’t want to ask. “Do they?”

He blew out a long breath. “Maybe. But you have one big thing in your favor—an employee at the Rusty Wire confirmed your story. The only part in question is how long she talked to you. A prosecutor could build a case on it, but it’s not enough. It’ll all hinge on whether they find evidence in your car. Gasoline, specifically. If there’s even a drop on the carpet, it will look suspicious. Have you ever had an emergency gas can in there?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Good.” Cal gave her a long look. “I don’t want you to worry. They aren’t ready to bring charges, and I don’t see that changing.”

As long as they found nothing in her car. For a brief moment she recalled stories of police corruption and planted evidence, then shook it off. Not the Barringer’s Pass police department. Her own brother-in-law was a cop here, and he’d know if there’d ever been the slightest hint of dishonesty on the force.