Tender Is The Night (18 page)

Within five minutes, they both had the information they'd been looking for. "You want to go first?" he asked, as she gave him an expectant look. "And don't boast because you beat me. You have access to FBI resources; I don't."

She gave him a smile. "I didn't have to use the resources, just the county records. Haviland Real Estate owns the building. They own a dozen commercial buildings all over town."

He nodded, her information matching his. "The bookstore owner is Mitch Conroy. He's a sixty-four-year-old retired English professor from Stanford. He and his wife Beth opened the bookstore six years ago. They also own a house in the Richmond neighborhood." He thought for a moment, something niggling at his brain. "Do you have the bookstore website open?"

"I do. Why?"

"Do they do signings? Has Dillingsworth signed his books there?"

"Oh, my God, Devin, you're brilliant. Ron Dillingsworth signed at the store four months ago when his new book,
Captured by Fire,
was released. We just tied Dillingsworth to the peace sign."

He was feeling the same excitement he saw in her eyes, but he still didn't know what the connection meant. "It could mean nothing, Kate. It's a bookstore. He's a writer. Is it really that strong of a connection?"

"It's better than nothing. We need to talk to him. I know you said he puts all questions through his lawyer now, but he obviously does book signings."

"I'll check his website." He brought up Dillingsworth's website and clicked on the page for appearances. "He's signing copies of his book at a fundraiser tomorrow night at Market Lane Books, which is downtown. The bookstore, which has been around since before the 1906 earthquake, needs funds for a massive remodel." He looked over his computer screen at Kate, now sharing some of her excitement. "You're not going to believe this—the fundraiser was organized by Gerilyn Connors, whose architectural firm is in charge of the remodel of the building. They want to preserve its historic integrity."

Kate gave him a big smile. "Can you be more optimistic now?"

"I'm getting there."

"Get there faster. We just found a new link between Dillingsworth and Gerilyn Connors. We didn't have that before. And think about it—Dillingsworth writes about firefighters and Brad Connors was a firefighter. Maybe Dillingsworth used Brad for research."

"It's possible. I never put those two together."

"They weren't asked if they knew each other?"

"No," he said, thinking Dillingsworth should have been asked that question. Or at least asked about which firefighters, if any, he had spoken to while researching his book. As he looked at the familiar website, he realized something else. "This signing was put on his schedule recently, because I've been here before, and I did not see this appearance. Even without the peace sign at the Haight-Ashbury bookstore, the fact that Dillingsworth was going to be participating in an event hosted by Gerilyn Connors would have gotten my attention."

"Looks like we're going to a book signing tomorrow."

"Absolutely. I just wonder how I missed this connection."

"You didn't miss it. It just showed up."

"Maybe," he said, still wondering if he'd overlooked some clue.

"No maybe about it," she said firmly. "Now we have to figure out if the connection between these two men means anything. We haven't tied them to Rick Baines. Unless, Dillingsworth or Connors ever went to the gym?"

He could definitely answer that question. "They did not. That was determined a long time ago."

"Okay, so they don't go to the gym. They didn't obviously know Baines. Maybe it's a level down connection. Jenkins or one of the girls, or someone else who knew Baines…"

He sighed. "That narrows it down."

"We'll take them one at a time." Kate sat back in her chair. "We're making headway, Devin. We're starting to find connections that weren't there before. Maybe they pan out; maybe they don't. But we have something new to look at. That's a positive development."

Her smile was so warm, her eyes so caring as she tried quite obviously to pump him up that he felt a somewhat overwhelming rush of affection for her. It was different from the physical attraction that permeated every breath between them. It was deeper. It felt both good and unsettling. It was one to thing to want to sleep with her; it was another to actually like her.

She tilted her head. "You're staring at me."

He was staring. Sometimes he thought he could look at her forever and not get bored. "Your face changes a lot," he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't exactly sound like a compliment."

"It's like watching a movie. I can always tell when the good part is coming because you light up like a Christmas tree."

"Okay, so definitely not a compliment to an FBI agent who is supposed to give a blank, neutral, non-readable expression. Special Agent Roman must have told me a hundred times:
You read them, they don't read you
."

"Screw Hal and his advice. Sometimes charm and openness gets a suspect off guard. You sneak in because they think you like them. They think you care. That's your strength, Kate. It's only a weakness if you don't know how to use it. But if you channel your power in the right direction, you'll be able to get whatever you want from a person."

"I like that," she said.

"I like you," he told her, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Her expression jumped with his words. "We're getting off track."

"With you, that seems to be a common occurrence."

"Maybe it's time to get in the car and start driving around in the cold night air."

He laughed. "You think that will cool us off?"

"It's worth a shot. Despite your teasing, I know that you don't really want anything to happen between us."

The way his body felt right now…hard, hungry…he definitely wanted something to happen. "You're wrong about that."

"I don't mean about the sex; I mean everything else that comes with crossing that line."

"Nothing has to come with it, not if you don't want it to. Sometimes sex is just sex."

"I know it's supposed to be that simple, but it never seems to work out that way. We're working together. We're partners. We'll do better if we stay professional."

"Then we better get the hell out of this apartment."

She pushed back her chair and stood up. "I'm with you. But can we bring some snacks? I'm hungry again."

He laughed as he got up. "I'm going to grab a jacket, maybe an extra one for you, while you rummage through the kitchen. Whatever you can find, you can bring."

"Deal. And Devin," she said, as he started to move toward the bedroom.

"Yeah?"

"I like you, too."

She flushed a little at the end of her sentence and then bolted into the kitchen, leaving him with a heart that was beating way too fast. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had said such a simple phrase and had it mean so much. In the past few years, his relationships—or whatever you wanted to call them—had been about chemistry, desire, sex, not anything more.

He moved into his bedroom, trying not to imagine a naked Kate tangled up in his sheets, with her golden blonde hair draped over his pillows.

Just get the jackets and go
, he told himself, wishing he had time for a cold shower, but the cold night air would have to do.

* * *

Had she really told Devin she liked him?
Kate was still pondering the stupidity of that reckless comment as they drove slowly down the block in front of the Bayside Neighborhood Club. The street was quiet. Aside from a man walking his dog, there was no one out on the block. They pulled over in front of the house. All the lights were off. The owner was probably asleep as it was after eleven now.

There were lights on in the house next door, and some music wafting out of a window from three buildings away.

"What do you think?" she asked Devin, focusing on the job instead of on him.

"This neighborhood would be hard to get in and out of fast. There's no parking and I doubt the arsonist comes on foot." He put his foot on the gas and drove down the street. "Let's take a look at Raymond Park Rec. The location is more open, and the fact that the park sits between two blocks, and has access from multiple streets would be more appealing to someone trying to get in and out quickly."

"That makes sense. You're starting to think like an arsonist."

"I've tried putting myself in that person's shoes, but I'm missing the motivation. I just don't know what drives these fires."

She heard his frustration and could totally relate. "I don't think I'm going to make arson investigation my life's work. It's an easy crime to commit, and it's almost impossible to catch someone who can cause massive destruction with the strike of a match. The evidence goes up in smoke. I don't know how Emma does it without going crazy."

"I don't, either. When this case is done, I don't want to think about fire again."

She smiled at his heartfelt sincerity. "I really think you should consider going back to the Bureau when this is done."

"I burned too many bridges."

"I seriously doubt that. And if you bring home a win—which I'm confident you're going to do with my help—you'll be welcomed back with open arms."

"Why would I want to work for a company who closed the case on the death of a loyal agent, even with me standing right there telling them over and over again that they were wrong?"

She couldn't answer that. She could see why he'd lost his faith in the agency he'd been committed to for almost a decade. "Maybe going back will be a way for you to show the Bureau that they can't do what they did again. You could be a shining example of never giving up on a case when your gut tells you that the evidence is wrong."

"I'm usually an example of what not to do," he said dryly.

"Maybe it's just the way you go about it."

"I'm sure that's true." He turned a corner and tipped his head toward the grassy area ahead of them on the right. "That's Raymond Park, and the building next to the small parking lot is the rec center."

She straightened as he drove past the entrance to the lot, then made a U-turn and parked across the street. From their vantage point, they could see the empty lot and the one-room building. There was a streetlight in the parking lot and another at the far end of the park, but the rest of the area was shadowy.

A chill ran down Kate's spine as she looked around the park. There were a lot of trees, a lot of dark places, and if she were someone looking to start a fire somewhere, this was a good spot. "This looks like a better target than the other one. You can access the park from this street or the one on the other side of the building and maybe to the east, too. Wish we could be in three places at once."

"No kidding."

"So are we staking the park out?"

"For a while—see if we see anything. We could be completely off base. The arsonist could be at any number of locations or not even looking to set a fire tonight. They could be living their normal life."

"You're right. I can't make the mistake of thinking the arsonist is one-dimensional with only one goal on their to-do list. He could have a job, be married, have children. He could like dogs, play sports, make culinary masterpieces in the kitchen, run marathons or be a television junkie. He could be in bed asleep right now, having sex with someone he loves, or reading a novel while we're sitting in the cold next to a dark park wondering if he's going to make his move."

Devin shot her a look. "Do you think that was helpful?"

"Sorry. I was talking more to myself than you. Sometimes I talk too much."

"Sometimes?"

"I'm not that bad."

"You're chatty."

"I only seem that way because you're not very talkative."

"We've been doing nothing but talking, Kate. And I prefer action."

Judging by the look in his eyes, she knew what action he was talking about. "No flirting," she warned.

"How is that flirting?" he protested.

"You know. We're alone in a dark car. It's late. It's night. We need to stay focused."

"I'm focused. You're not?"

She could hear the tease in his voice, and she was actually a little surprised to hear it. When she'd first arrived, Devin had been all business all the time, but today she'd seen a more personal side to him; more humor, more joy. Maybe he was starting to come out of the dark funk he'd been living in. "Let's talk movies. What have you seen lately?"

"Nothing. I haven't been to a movie in two years."

"So not a movie person? Or just not lately?"

"I don't spend a lot of time in the theater. I'd rather be outside."

"Me, too," she said. "I get cabin fever when I'm indoors too long. I used to drive my mom crazy when I was little; I always wanted to have my sleepovers in a tent in the backyard."

"That sounds fun."

"Unfortunately, a lot of my friends didn’t think so. My sleepovers became less popular when I got to middle school. But Mia was usually game to pitch a tent with me and tell ghost stories under a flashlight." She smiled to herself. "I can't believe she's getting married. My twin sister is going to have a husband. That will be weird."

"Why will it be weird?"

"We've always been so tightly connected. It's strange to think she'll have someone else to tell her secrets to."

"You will, too, at some point."

"I guess. But that's a long ways off, and Mia is getting married next week. Anyway, getting back to you. While you don't apparently like movies, I did notice that you have a lot of books in your house. And you also had an e-reader on your coffee table."

"Very observant."

"I am a highly trained special agent," she said with a laugh. "I also noticed when I walked by your bedroom earlier that you have an aversion to hangers."

"Is that a nice way of saying I'm a slob?"

"Not a slob, but clutter doesn't bother you, at least not in your personal life. In your professional life, you're one of the most organized agents I've ever worked with. Your files, your descriptions, your maps are the most detailed things I've seen."