Tender Is The Night (29 page)

"Not in a million years. Once you give your heart to someone, you don't get it back."

"I can take it back. And I didn't give him my heart…just a lot of everything else."

Mia laughed. "How was it?"

"Better than I have words for."

"Well, that's good. Are you going to bring him to the wedding?"

"I'm sure this will be over by then, and if it's not, I'll leave him to work on things. I'm not going to let you down, Mia. I'm going to be there for you. I will stand up at your wedding. I promise."

"You better. Because we've been together since before we were born, and I am not doing this without you, Kate."

"You won't have to. I'll see you on Thursday."

"Don't get into any more trouble before then."

"I'm going to try hard not to."

As she ended the call, she hoped she could make good on that promise.

* * *

They arrived at Gerilyn Connors's architecture and design firm a little before one o'clock in the afternoon. The office was housed in a brick building with exposed beams and floor-to-ceiling windows. Lush carpets covered the sleek, dark, hardwood floors, and expensive artwork hung on the walls.

The receptionist told them that Gerilyn was still out to lunch, but that Eileen Raffin would speak to them in her office.

Eileen's space was just as pretty as the lobby. In addition to a large mahogany desk, there was a seating area with white couches and chairs around a unique-looking coffee table that appeared to have once been an old steamer trunk.

Eileen got up from behind her desk and gave them a welcoming smile.

"I'm so glad you came by. I got the target list you texted me last night," she told Devin. "And I have to say I was a little troubled by four of the houses on there. They are all places that our firm worked on. I don't want anything to happen to any of them. They're beautiful properties, and I did the interiors for three of them."

She waved them toward the couch and chairs by the window. "Please have a seat. I know that you've told me before that houses we've worked on were targeted in the past, but I really thought it was just a coincidence, that someone just didn't like historic buildings, but now it feels like someone doesn't like us."

Kate saw the worried light in her eyes and felt reassured that Eileen was being so open and honest with them. "It's possible this firm is a target in some way," she said. "We wanted to speak to Gerilyn again, but the receptionist told us she's at lunch."

Eileen nodded. "She had a meeting with a developer. So it's back to Brad? I was really hoping you could clear him. Gerilyn has been happy since they got back together, although this morning she looked more like her old self."

"What do you mean?" Devin asked.

"She had dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn't slept. She said she just had a bad night, but she didn't say why. She looked that way a lot during her divorce."

"Do you think she's having problems with Brad again?" Kate asked.

"I didn't want to ask. We're close, but I let her talk when she wants to talk. I try not to pry. It's difficult to watch your friend go back to someone who hurt them before. I think that's why Gerilyn isn't telling me much right now. But I hope she'll talk to you." Eileen glanced down at her watch. "She should be back within about fifteen minutes. You can wait here in my office. I actually need to go to one of the properties on your list, the one on Village Court."

"Why?" Kate asked in surprise.

"The owners want to redecorate. I did their original design about six years ago. So it needs updating." Eileen paused. "Would you like to see the house? You could come with me."

"I would like to see the house." Kate glanced at Devin. "You could wait for Gerilyn, and I could take a look at the property. It might give me a better idea of how vulnerable it is, and where we should put it on the target list."

He hesitated, then nodded. "All right. We can meet up afterwards."

Eileen got to her feet as her cell phone rang. "Hello? I'm sorry. I can't talk right now. I'm on my way out." She paused. "I'll have to call you back, okay?" She ended the call and shook her head. "Children. No matter how old they are, they can still be annoying. Do either of you have kids?"

"No, we're both single," Kate said. "Someday. When I'm ready."

"I thought I was ready for motherhood, but it was much harder than I ever expected it to be. I was thankful when my daughter hit eighteen. It felt like a huge achievement. Little did I realize that eighteen was not the end of her needs. Anyway, let me get my bag, and we'll go."

As Eileen moved around the desk to grab her purse, Kate looked at Devin. "Should we meet back here?"

"Why don't you text me when you've seen the house, and I'll let you know if I've connected with Gerilyn yet? Then we'll figure out our next move." He paused. "If you can get Eileen to tell you any more about Gerilyn, that would be helpful."

"She seems pretty chatty; I'll see what I can do." She handed him the car keys.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Scott," Eileen said, rejoining them. "And let the receptionist know if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks."

Kate followed Eileen out the door. "I really love your offices. It makes me want to redecorate my apartment."

"It's important to live in a place that makes you feel good," Eileen said. "The right décor can change your entire mood every time you walk through your door."

She wondered if that were true. She had a feeling that having a man at home when she walked through the door might do the trick, too.

"Agent Callaway?"

"I'm sorry," she said, realizing Eileen had asked her a question. "What did you say?"

The older woman gave her a thoughtful look. "I asked you how long you'd been with the FBI?"

"Oh, a little over a year."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Not usually," she said, as they took the elevator downstairs and entered the parking garage. "Most of the time it's a lot of talk. But last night got exciting. Someone set fire to Devin's apartment building while we were inside."

Eileen's lips parted in surprise. "Are you serious? Why? Who would do that?"

"It was a warning that we were getting too close."

Eileen stared back at her. "You think it was Brad. That's why you came to the office today."

"We'd like to know where he was last night."

"If he wasn't with Gerilyn, I don't think she'll tell you. She has become very protective of him since he got sober."

"Would she tell you?" Kate asked. "If we weren't around?"

"I don't know."

"Would you ask her?"

Eileen slowly nodded. "When we get back. But maybe she'll be forthcoming with Mr. Scott."

Kate hoped so, but somehow she didn't think it would be that easy.

* * *

Devin paced around Eileen's office, wondering if he'd made the right decision to wait for Gerilyn Connors. He had wanted to check out all of the target properties today, and there was a good chance that Gerilyn was going to give him nothing but a runaround.

His phone rang, and he was startled to see a San Diego area code. "Hello?"

"This is Alan Jenkins," the man said.

"Mr. Jenkins. Thank you for calling me back." He was honestly surprised at the return call. He'd about given up on the guy.

"I was on vacation for a few days. Why are you blowing up my phone with messages and texts?"

"I need to talk to you about Rick Baines."

"Why? He's dead."

"It's about how he died."

"I thought he killed himself in a fire."

"You were friends with him at St. Bernadette's weren't you?"

"Yeah, we went to high school together. So what?"

There was an angry, antagonistic edge to Alan's voice that was either defensive or offensive; Devin couldn't tell which. But he had a feeling being direct was the only way to go with Alan. "There was a fire at St. Bernadette's a few days ago."

"And…what does that have to do with me? I live in San Diego."

"It's our belief that Rick Baines was not the person who set the fire that killed him. We think it's possible he knew the arsonist. And since that person recently hit St. Bernadette's, it seems likely that that individual has a connection to Rick and the school."

"That's a wild theory," Jenkins said.

"So humor me. Tell me about your relationship with Rick."

"We weren't close friends, but we knew each other from high school, and I went to the gym where he worked."

"Did he talk about wanting to be a firefighter in recent years? Did he refer to any of the suspicious fires happening in the city? Did he seem to be paying attention to them?"

"He always talked about wanting to be a firefighter. I told him to stop talking and get off his ass and try again. I knew he went after it several years ago and couldn't get in, but it was still his dream, so I encouraged him to fill out another application. He said he did, but the next thing I knew he was dead—and in a fire—I couldn’t believe it. I wondered if the guy was living a secret life, because I had no idea he could do something like that. I guess that's always what people say when they're interviewed after someone seemingly normal does something abnormal."

"Was it that out of the ordinary?" he challenged, remembering Kate's conversation with Kristina the night before. "It's my understanding that Rick might have set a small fire when you were at St. Bernadette's."

"Who told you that?"

"Kristina Strem."

"Kristina has a big imagination. There was a really small fire, and we all wondered who did it, but Rick never said he did. It could have been anyone."

"Kristina also told us you went by the scene where Rick died."

"You had a long conversation, didn't you? Yeah, I went by there. I had to see it for myself. Like I said, I thought it was weird that he would die in a fire when he had such a fascination with fire. I still think it's strange. Is that a crime?"

"No. Did Rick keep in touch with anyone else from high school?"

"Probably. I know he saw Kristina a few times. Julie came into the gym with her boyfriend once. Rick mentioned running into Lindsay one day. Oh, and he said Michael Bennett had come back from New York and was working for one of those ride-share companies. So, yeah, I guess he saw people from high school. But none of those people would set fires. I really don't know what to tell you."

Devin sighed. He was getting nowhere fast. "I appreciate you calling me back."

"No problem. I wish I knew something. Because if someone killed Rick, that's disturbing. Especially if it was someone he knew—someone I might still know."

Was Alan now genuinely concerned? His tone had certainly changed since their call had first begun, but mostly when he realized he wasn't actually being accused of anything. "If you hear anything from any of your friends from St. Bernadette's regarding Rick or the fires, I would love a call," he said.

"You got it. I'm sorry I took so long to get back to you."

"Where did you go on vacation?"

"Oh, um, I was in Hawaii."

"Which island?"

"Maui. Love Maui. Hate Oahu—too crowded."

"I agree," he said, thinking Jenkins was now being a little too smooth. "Maui has some great hotels. Where did you stay?"

Jenkins hesitated. "Sunset Villas. Do you want me to send you a receipt?" The antagonism was back in his voice.

"No, that's fine."

"You think I had something to do with these fires, don't you?" Jenkins challenged. "You are wasting your time if you're going down that path."

"I'm just asking questions. That's all. Thanks again."

"Yeah. Whatever." Jenkins ended the call on that abrupt note.

As Devin set his phone down on Eileen's desk, he made a mental note to check into the Sunset Villas, find out if he could trace Jenkins to Maui, because his gut told him that Jenkins was lying about something. His behavior had been inconsistent, too. He'd gone from angry to helpful, to frightened, and then to anger again. Was he just being defensive because he thought he was being accused of something he didn't do, or because he was guilty?

"Mr. Scott. What are you doing here?" a female asked.

He turned around to see Gerilyn Connors enter Eileen's office. She looked tired and worried. He wondered if that was solely due to his presence or to her marital relationship.

"I came to see you," he said.

"I have nothing to say to you, and you need to back off, or I'm going to go to the police and ask for a restraining order against you."

"Where was your husband last night, Mrs. Connors?"

His abrupt question took her aback, and in that hesitation he knew that whatever was about to come out of her mouth was a lie.

"He was with me," she said.

The fearful light in her eyes and the pallor of her skin told a different story. "Are you sure about that?" He let his question sink in, then added, "I'm only the first person who is going to ask you that question. The police will probably be next, then the arson investigation unit, maybe some of your husband's former firefighting friends."

"What happened?" she asked tightly.

"Someone set fire to my apartment building. It was a warning, and the only person I can think of who was angry enough to give me a warning is your husband."

"I'm sure there are other people who don't like you," she returned.

"Where was he last night?"

"I told you he was with me. And I'll tell anyone else who asks."

"Why are you covering for him? You once got an order of protection against him."

"He was drinking then; he isn't now. He's better. And I want him to stay better."

"Lying for him isn't going to keep him sober or keep you safe. If he's involved in these fires, you could be in danger. You really need to think about who you're defending, what he's capable of doing."

She stared back at him, and all of the defiance suddenly seemed to go out of her shoulders. "We had a fight yesterday. He left around six, and I haven't seen him since."

He blew out a breath, relieved to have finally gotten past her defenses. "What was the fight about?"