TORCH (21 page)

He wraps one arm around me, pulls my head onto his shoulder, and messes my hair. “No worries. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

T
he smell of coffee brewing lures me into the kitchen, still in my pajamas, rubbing sleep from my eyes. There’s no sign of dad, but the radio is blasting AC/DC on the classic rock station he likes. When the song ends, the news cuts in.

“We have an update on the fire at the auto parts plant in Lenton, just outside of Rosewood. The five-alarm fire started around three this morning and is only now being contained. Residents in the area have been evacuated, and one firefighter is in the hospital suffering from smoke inhalation. Traffic is being redirected, so you’ll need to find another route into work.”

I’m staring into space, still holding the pot of coffee, when Dad’s says, “They’ve started again.”

He’s standing in the doorway of the family room and he looks tired.

Setting the coffee pot back on the warmer, I say, “Do you think it’s the same arsonist? It’s been six weeks. Maybe this is random.”

It must be random, because I slept like a log last night. If it were Black Hat, I’d have gotten the wake up call, just like every other time.

“I don’t think so,” Dad says.

He offers his mug and I fill it for him. “Why not?” I ask. “Do you have some sort of sixth sense about it, or something?”

“Sixth sense? No.” He smiles. “That would make life easier, wouldn’t it?”

Actually, it’s made my life a lot more complicated. “Then what makes you think it’s the same guy?”

“The owner of the plant is Frank McKenna,” Dad says. “He’s got some profile in Rosewood.”

Dad’s trying to tell me something in a roundabout way. “Profile like Ms. Giddon’s, or profile like yours?”

Staring at me over the brim of his mug, he says, “Profile like
ours
.”

Ah. Frank McKenna’s a Torch. “But the arsonist’s hits are all over the place,” I say. “Where’s the logic?”

“The only pattern I can see is that Frank is a big believer in the Rosewood mosaic. So is Chief Larken. And to a lesser extent, Jenny Giddon.”

Graham comes into the kitchen, his hair sticking up all over. He grabs a mug and slips in between Dad and me to reach the coffee pot.

“When did you start drinking coffee?” Dad asks.

My brother gives Dad a sleepy grin. “When you stopped paying attention.”

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” Dad says, as Graham adds plenty of cream and sugar to his mug.

“Doesn’t caffeine stunt your growth or something?” I say. “You could top out at five-five.”

Graham shoves me. “I’m already five-seven and I’ll leave you in the dust before long.” My brother takes a gulp and adds more sugar. “So what are you guys talking about?”

“Breakfast,” Dad says. “I’m in the mood for pancakes.”

After school, I go directly to Regan’s house. There’s a huge wreath on the door, dusted with fake snow. Rosewood will never see a white Christmas, but we’d all love a heavy rain. The wildfires continue to rage outside of town and fire services across counties are having to pitch in. Dad keeps turning down requests to help, even on a volunteer basis.

Regan opens the door, wearing yoga pants and a fitted jacket that show she’s lost weight. Her hair hangs in loose, controlled ringlets and her smoky make-up turns her dark eyes exotic. Dating Flynn has transformed her in a way that my coaching and encouragement never could.

“You look great,” I say.

Moving aside to let me in, she says, “Guess you haven’t seen me in awhile.”

“What do you mean? I see you in school every day. And at Karate, and drama club.”

She rolls her eyes. “You only have eyes for Kai.”

“That’s not true, Ree. You know that.”

“When’s the last time we hung out just for fun?” she asks. “I bet you’re only here now because you want something.”

I am, too, which makes me ashamed. “I’m sorry. And you’re right, I have been MIA.”

Looking slightly mollified, she leads me through the kitchen, grabbing a couple of sodas and a bag of chips, en route to her bedroom. I drop my backpack on the floor and throw myself onto the foot of her bed.

“I didn’t expect having a boyfriend would mess with my priorities so much,” I say. I wait for her to chime in, and when she doesn’t, I add, “Did you?”

“I’d have told you about Flynn if you’d been around,” she says. “It wasn’t something I could just drop into conversation during drama class.”

“No, but you’ve texted me dozens of times about clothes and assignments. I don’t recall your asking to meet because you had momentous news to share.”

“You didn’t tell me about Kai right away, either.”

“True. But that was complicated and put you in a tough position.”

“Seeing Flynn is complicated and puts
you
in a tough position,” she counters.

I end the verbal ping pong. “Kai could kill me. There, I win.”

“My dad will kill me. Maybe not literally, but it’s bad enough.”

“Well, Flynn’s a player and you know it.”

“Maybe he was, but he’s changed,” she says.

“If he has, it was pretty sudden,” I say. “Because when we were at Six Flags, he offered to date Bianca’s sister to get the inside track.”

Regan’s eyes water up, and I regret my words immediately. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “If Flynn makes you happy, I’ll back off.”

“He does,” she says. “And I believe people can suddenly change, because I watched you go from champion swimmer to a human fireball just as fast.”

“True,” I say. “But that was entirely out of my hands, and it wasn’t easy. All I’m asking is for you to keep your eyes open with Flynn. And before you say it, yes, I need to do the same with Kai.” Leaning over, I grab the pillow and whack her with it. “Are we good?”

She whacks me back with another pillow. “We have to be. I only have one best friend.”

“I missed you, too,” I say. “So, fill me in. Although I can tell just by looking at you that it’s going well.”

Her face flushes. “He’s been so great. I really like him.”

“As in, love him-like him?” I ask.

“Maybe,” she says. “Definitely ‘like’ in capital letters. What about you and Kai?”

“We dropped the L-bomb last night.”

Regan’s eyes widen. “Last time we talked, you were barely able to kiss each other.”

“That part’s better,” I say. “Although things got a bit intense last night and I sort of freaked out.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.”

“Flynn’s already—?”I remind myself not to judge. “Well, then we’re both in the same situation, and like Kai said, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

Regan sighs. “I hope Flynn feels that way, too.”

“I’m sure he does. He must be treating you right or you wouldn’t look so good.”

She brightens. “Three months ago, neither of us had even had a real date.”

“I know, it’s amazing,” I say, sitting up. “I wish Kai was all I had to worry about, but I got a reality check today. This fire in Lenton, I didn’t dream about it, Ree. I’m hoping that’s because it isn’t arson.”

Regan’s face grows serious. “Dad said it was. And that it looked like the same guy did it.”

I pound the pillow in my lap. “Then how did I miss it?”

“Maybe your dreams were just temporary, as you adjusted to the change,” she says. “Or maybe now your subconscious can tune them out.”

“I don’t know. Before the arsonist went underground, my dreams were getting sharper and more detailed. Now, when he surfaces, nothing.”

Regan stares at her fingernails, as if checking for chips in the polish. “I’m just wondering...”

“What?”

“Promise not to get mad?”

“Why do I get nervous when my best friend says that? Okay, shoot.”

“Well, it’s been six weeks since the last fire, and during that time, you and Kai have gone from zero to sixty, right?”

I feel my temperature rising despite my promise. “Meaning what?”

Regan forges on. “You couldn’t stand to touch him back then, and now you’re able to get very close. Is it possible that this is affecting your abilities?”

“Of course not,” I say. Too quickly.

“So everything’s exactly the same as before?” she says. “You’re sparking fires right, left and centre?”

I think before answering. “Well, no. But I’m happy, now. I haven’t wanted to torch anything.”

“Okay. But
all I’m asking
—” she grins as she throws my words back at me—“is if you still can. Because if anything’s changed in that department, it could explain why you’ve gone dark on the dream front, too.”

“I’m pretty sure I could blow up this room if I wanted to,” I say, grinning back at her. “But I don’t want to piss you off, because I need you to come with me tonight on a surveillance mission.”

“
I
still can’t believe you put a tracker on your dad’s truck,” Regan says, sliding down in the passenger seat of the Jeep.

“I can’t believe he hasn’t put one on mine.” Pulling into a parking lot across from a pub called The Fox and Fiddle, I cut the engine. “I keep checking.”

“You couldn’t just sit down and talk to him?”

I roll my eyes. “How’d it go when you sat down with your dad to talk about Flynn?”

There will be snowmen in hell before Uncle Rick hears about Flynn from Regan. “Well, this is different,” she says. “You’re looking out for your dad.”

I hold up binoculars. “Exactly.”

“So what’s the big deal if he comes to this pub every Tuesday night at ten? It’s his night off.”

“A pattern like that says he’s meeting someone.”

“Like a girlfriend?”

“That’d be good news,” I say. “So I doubt it.”

At around eleven-thirty, a group of people spills out of the pub and heads for their cars.

“There’s my dad,” I say. “And yours.” I sweep the lot with the binoculars, seeing half a dozen people I don’t recognize. “There’s Hux! What’s
he
doing here?” Tracking back to my dad’s truck, I find him standing with a man who looks vaguely familiar. “Who’s that guy with my dad?”I pass the binoculars to Regan.

She watches for a moment. “The guy whose plant burned down. Frank McKenna.”

“Huh.” I sink lower in my seat as dad gets into the truck and starts it. “That’s a coincidence. Dad said Frank McKenna’s a Torch. And of course, Hux is, too.” Regan is still staring through the binoculars, so I reach out and push them down. “Ree, have you ever seen any sign that your dad’s playing on our team?”

She lowers the binoculars and stares at me. “A fire-starter? No. ” Her eyes become unfocussed as she thinks. “Except... No.”

“Except what?” I ask. “Throw it out there.”

It takes her close to a minute before she speaks. “About eight years ago, when mom was still alive, we rented this cabin for a week. My parents got into a fight and Dad stormed out. A couple of hours later, a guy in a uniform came to the door and told Mom we had to leave because there was huge wildfire moving towards us. So we packed everything up in a hurry. It was nearly midnight and we could see the fire in the distance, like a huge wave. Dad came back and Mom yelled at him. She said, ‘This is your fault, isn’t it?’ And he said she got him upset, and that things got out of hand. I just thought they were talking about the fight.”