Playing with Fire (19 page)

“She thinks she has a lead.” Shane gestured
to the scattered file folders.

“We can’t read this,” Jake said softly.

“I have a signed, notarized release, Jake.
You better get started, there’s mountains of information in
there.”

Shane watched Liberty pace the floor as Jake
scanned the files. In all the time he spent with her, loved her,
he’d never seen her so distraught. And he’d done that to her.
Liberty. The one person who was determined to rip the nightmares
from his head. The one person who loved him unconditionally,
weakness and all.

“Damn,” Jake cursed. “This guy is one sick
individual. He tried to cook her twice.”

“Nice, Detective,” Bri drawled.

Shane’s eyes narrowed. “What did he use?”

Jake’s eyes met his in a warped sense of
satisfaction. “Acetone.”

He swallowed the softball in his throat.
“Hell.”

“What’s on the videotape?” Jake asked
Liberty.

“That’s the surveillance tape from my
security company. He paid me a visit before Anne died. The police
report is in there somewhere.”

Jake handed Liberty a glossy photograph. “Is
this him?”

She shivered slightly. “Yes.”

Shane glanced at the photograph, absorbing
the evil vibes that flew from the paper. Lucius wore the somber,
stony stare of a madman with his lips creased in a maniacal,
twisted half smile.

“Oh hell,” Jake muttered. The detective
handed him another piece of paper. “He owned the house where Zach
was killed.”

Jake packed the papers back into the box and
stood with the box balanced on one hip. “I’ll take this downtown.
It shouldn’t be long before we can pick him up.”

Bri stood. “I’ll follow you out.” She pulled
the door shut as she and Jake left the house.

Shane’s heart fought hard against the door
that threatened to close in his chest.

A deafening silence fell over the room as he
met Liberty’s stare. “Liberty, I’m sorry.” He took two slow steps
toward her.

She raised a hand to stop him. “I forgive
you, Shane. Between your grief and sleep deprivation, it’s quite
evident you’re not thinking clearly.”

He inched hopefully closer.

“However,” she continued, “that doesn’t mean
things will ever change between us.”

He stopped abruptly with his heart in his
throat. “I love you, Liberty.”

“No, you don’t. You’re just transferring
emotion to me.”

“You know I don’t understand that psycho
talk.” He attempted to lighten her mood with a faint snicker.

“You think you love me because I’ve helped
you through your pain. It’s more like lustful gratification, if you
will.”

Excruciating pain squeezed him like a boa
constrictor. “You can’t honestly believe that.”

“You thought I was an arsonist.”

“I was out of my mind. Do you really believe
I would use you for information?”

“I do.”

He studied her intently for a moment
analyzing the meaning behind her admission. She was hurt, he could
understand that. But she couldn’t believe his love for her? He
couldn’t accept that. He wouldn’t.

He stepped close to her and placed her chin
in his hands. “At least let Jake put an officer outside the
house.”

“Absolutely not. I’m safe here.”

“We can’t be sure.”

“No, Shane.” Her eyes flashed her unrelenting
determination.

“Just for the record,” he whispered as he
lowered his head, “I never really believed you were involved.”

He placed his lips against hers in a
bittersweet, soft kiss. She returned his kiss lightly before
stepping out of his touch. Smiling sadly, she opened the front door
in a quiet gesture of dismissal. He left the house, pieces of his
heart trailing behind.

Dazed and heartbroken, he met Jake at his
cruiser. “Where’s Bri?”

“She took off like a bat out of hell.
Something about research. “

“We need a tail,” he mumbled.

Jake opened the car door and placed the box
of files inside. “Done.”

Once in the privacy of his own front yard,
Shane crawled to the porch and stretched out on the bottom step.
Shaking with desperation, he reached into his shirt pocket for
another cigarette, relaxing somewhat as he placed the slender
cylinder between his lips. Since when had his life become so
complicated? He smirked. Since Liberty knocked him on his ass and
stole his heart right under his nose. The insistent ringing of his
cell phone saved him from kicking himself again.

“Yeah.”

“We’re dealing cards,” Dylan said in
greeting. “Are you in?”

He pulled another puff of nicotine into his
starving lungs. “No, not this time.”

“Damn it, Hartwell! You’re smoking.”

He exhaled quickly and the smoke burnt his
nostrils. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are!” Dylan insisted. “I’ve been
sucking Fireballs for a week because of you and you’re tying one
on!”

“It was an emergency.” He took another long
drag.

“At least stop while you talk to me,” Dylan
growled. “Quit pouting and come play cards.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Just give her some time, Shane.”

“Since when did you become such an authority
on women?”

“Since my wife handcuffed me to the bed.”
Dylan laughed. “Besides, I’m in therapy, remember?”

He ground the cigarette butt against the
cement. “I remember. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Pushing himself off the porch, he dusted
himself off and climbed into his truck. Dylan was right. Liberty
deserved some time to sort through the whole chaotic mess. At least
she was safe.

A couple minutes later, he climbed the stairs
to the top floor of the station, cleared his mind, and prepared to
face his friends.

Dylan glanced up and stopped shuffling. “You
in?”

He took the chair next to Ethan and nodded.
When Dylan finished dealing, he shifted his gaze around the table.
Noah pushed his dark glasses up on his nose and arranged his cards,
a telltale indication that his hand sucked and bluffing was his
only option. Ethan bounced his knee under the table. No competition
there. Dylan’s left eye twitched which meant he would probably fold
first. Jake was a total blank.

“I see your five M&Ms,” Noah said, “and I
raise you two Skittles.” He tossed the candy into the pile already
in the middle of the table and looked at Dylan with a bland
expression.

Dylan threw down his cards. “I fold!”

Ethan tossed his cards to the table. “Yeah,
me too.”

Shane smirked and laid his cards face up. “I
have three of a kind.”

“Well,” Noah said smugly, reaching for the
pile of candy. “I have a full house.”

“Hold on, Hunter,” Jake grinned. “I have a
straight flush. Looks like this hand is mine, gentlemen.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” Ethan ran a hand over
the top of his head. “I thought Fireballs were worth more than
Skittles.”

“Nope.” Noah shook his head. “M&Ms are
worth the most. Fireballs are next.”

Dylan popped a Fireball into his mouth.
“You’re both wrong. Fireball’s are priceless.”

“Only if you’re trying to quit smoking.” Jake
chuckled.

“It would be a lot easier to remember if we’d
go back to playing for money,” Dylan groused.

“The last time we played for money, Hunter
ended up with a black eye and Hartwell had a fat lip,” Josh
reminded them as he passed the table and grabbed a handful of
candy.

Dylan slapped at his hand. “You’re not
playing so you don’t get the booty.”

“Not my kind of booty, Carmichael.” Josh
plopped down in the recliner, remote in hand, and flipped channels
on the television.

“Speaking of booty,” Jake said, “how come
there aren’t any females hanging around here tonight?”

Ethan shuffled the cards to deal another
hand. “All male revue at Hannigan’s.”

“So all you get is cards and us.” Noah
laughed. “Guess you picked the wrong night.”

Shane sat silently and listened to the
playful banter between his friends. Not just friends, family. Every
single one of them would have his back, no questions asked. Yet,
even their support and encouragement couldn’t help him out of the
mess he’d made with Liberty. The sharp chest pain returned.

He blinked and pulled himself out of his
silent misery as the PA system sprung to life with a loud roar.

“Engine Company Two, house fire at 1307
Mulberry Lane. Repeating. 1307 Mulberry Lane. House Fire. Please
respond.”

Dylan grabbed the radio microphone while
pulling his pants over his hips. “10-4.”

Shane grabbed his gear and rushed to the
truck.

“That’s Liberty’s house,” he croaked.

“I know.” Dylan gave a silent nod, a motion
Shane took as permission to ride the truck.

“Where the hell was the tail?” Shane yelled
over the sirens now screaming in the engine bay.

“Someone knocked him out.” Jake hung up the
phone. “When he came to, he reported the fire. I’m right behind
you.”

While Ethan drove the speeding truck through
town, Shane forced air through his collapsing lungs. She was home.
She was in the house, alone. In the dark house, alone and burning.
He closed his eyes and strangled the panic from his mind.

He was the first to jump off the truck as
they arrived at the scene.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dylan’s angry
voice drowned the wailing sirens.

He buckled the last strap of his turnout gear
and reached for his SCBA. “I’m going inside.”

“The hell you are!”

Shane’s restraint broke as he waved his
helmet at Dylan. “Carmichael, if I have to kick your ass to get
inside that house, I’ll do it. Liberty is in there and I’m going in
after her.”

Dylan grabbed a helmet. “How do you know
she’s in there?”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning and her
car is parked in the driveway. She won’t go out after dark.” He
attached an air hose to his helmet. “She’s in there.”

“Wait,” Dylan ordered.

“Dylan —”

Dylan placed a pea-sized receiver in his
hand. “Put this in your ear so we can communicate.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

“Damn it Hartwell, it’s either both of us or
none!”

“Fine.” He plugged the earpiece into his
ear.

“Give me your tag.”

He handed the identifying metal to Dylan and
watched Dylan hand Shane’s and his own to Josh.

Josh stood dumbfounded. “What the —?”

Dylan silenced him with a piercing stare.
“Get Rawlings and Hunter in there with a hose.”

Glaring at Dylan one last time, Shane threw
his helmet over his head and jogged toward the neon orange
flames.

He heard Dylan’s clipped response to Josh
from behind them. “Liberty’s inside. By the way, Hartwell,” he said
from the depths of his helmet. “I’d like to see you try to kick my
ass.”

Ethan and Noah pushed Shane to the side and
aimed the hose at the door, splintering it from the frame.

Shane entered first, consumed by the blinding
smoke all around them but sudden movement from the corner of the
room caught his attention. He watched in horror as a shadowy figure
lifted a familiar metal can and emptied the contents. Acetone. As
if watching the whole sickening plot in slow motion, Shane stood
stunned when the figure struck a match. Within seconds the body
became a blazing inferno as it headed for the ornate staircase that
spiraled through the dense smoke to the second floor.

Dylan let loose a string of expletives.
“Rawlings! Spray the stairs!”

The powerful rush of water hurled the body to
the top of the stairs, extinguishing the hungry flames in the
process.

“Where’s her bedroom?” Dylan radioed.

Shane pointed upstairs.

“We’ll sweep up there first.”

He nodded and stepped onto the first step to
test its durability. Convinced he wouldn’t fall through, he climbed
the staircase, listening to Dylan curse under his breath into his
earpiece the whole way.

“Do you kiss Maddie with that mouth?” he
taunted.

Despite the terror, his best friend’s hearty
chuckle echoed in response.

Shane stood paralyzed at the top of the
stairs as the thick, black smoke sucked him in and challenged him
to continue. The house gave an eerie moan as the fire caressed its
pristine surfaces, coating it with ugly, black fingerprints.
Hypnotized by the evil darkness, he felt his heartbeat quicken and
his breathing escalate.

“Hartwell!” Dylan barked. “Breathe.”

He snapped from his trance and inched further
into the smoke toward Liberty’s bedroom.

“Sonuvabitch.”

He turned abruptly at Dylan’s mumbled curse
to find him bent over a blackened lump heaped on the floor. His
heart fell and his knees buckled as he dropped beside the mass of
charred material.
Not again
.

“Shane!” Dylan’s voice forced him out of his
despair. “Make sure.”

Tears of relief swelled in his eyes as he
stood and rolled the body over with one steel-toed boot. Lucius.
Lucifer. Satan. The cold, hard stare that met his made his stomach
roll. Even in death, the sick bastard looked peaceful, almost as if
content he’d given Liberty what she deserved. Sweat coated his brow
as he heard axes chop through the wooden layers of the house so the
hoses could smother the flames. He was truly in hell.

Dylan shoved him away from Lucius and closer
to the bedroom as re-ignited flames climbed the staircase. Shane
stood in front of a closed door.
Good girl
. But, when he
turned the doorknob, his confidence crumbled. She’d locked herself
inside.

Frantic to enter, he used his shoulder and
violently pushed against the door. Nothing.

“We’re going to have to break it down,” Dylan
said. “We need a Halligan bar.”

“No time.” Shane glanced down the hallway.
Although the Halligan tool would gain immediate entry, the dancing,
red flames chanting a welcome message provided his point. “Think we
can kick it?”