Up in Flames (14 page)

Emmett shrugged. “Some dive east of town.”

Not the Moosehead, then. Zane didn’t know why that made him feel a little better. Maybe it was the relief of knowing he didn’t frequent the same places Emmett did. While he couldn’t believe his brother had turned into a cold-blooded murderer, it was clear he hadn’t cleaned up his act in the slightest.

Emmett backed up to lean on the kitchen counter, crossing his legs comfortably, as if they had thought-provoking discussions like this every day. “You’re in a pile of trouble, brother. Police crawling all over that business of yours.”

Natural Designs. How long had Emmett been watching the place? “Yeah, they’re probably watching my house, too,” he told Emmett. “You might not want to hang around with me.”

Emmett rubbed his lower lip, obviously considering the value of this advice.

“You might want to leave town entirely,” he pressed. “Seeing as how I’m tarnishing the Thorson name.”

“Nah, I don’t want to miss the show. Besides, I’m thinking I’ll stick around here. B-Pass is a happenin’ place. New people coming through all the time. Being away made me realize how much I like my little hometown.”

“Touching.” And probably honest. With all the tourists and the rich part-time residents, opportunities for crime were abundant. Houses to break into, credit cards to steal, vacationers to take advantage of. He wasn’t sure which crimes Emmett preferred these days, but doubted that his brother would be looking for honest work. “Suit yourself. But stay away from me and my business.”

Emmett couldn’t have been surprised, but it brought a glitter of the old hatred to his eyes. “Still haven’t developed that family spirit, huh? I think we should work on that.”

“I don’t have a family.” Not with anyone named Thorson, especially after he’d renounced his father and refused to lie for Emmett at his rape trial. Emmett had beaten the charge anyway, but never forgiven Zane for drawing a moral line between them. In weak moments he liked to think of the Chambers family as his own, but he’d never said it out loud, never expected Will and his parents to take on the burden of including a Thorson in their normal, happy family.

Emmett pushed himself upright. “Now, that’s cold, brother. Someday you might be sorry you don’t have someone close to you, someone you can rely on and turn to for support.”

“So nice of you to be concerned.” As if Emmett would know anything about family and relying on others. Zane and his brother hadn’t trusted their father to do more than provide a roof over their heads, and sometimes even that had been asking too much. Both of them had learned to find food and shelter elsewhere when their dad was in a violent mood, which was about half the time.

“I’m doing fine on my own,” Zane said.

Emmett strolled toward the mudroom. “Too bad. You used to be close to that Chambers family.”

Damn it, he remembered. Fear gripped Zane, an alarm bell shrilling in his head. Why had he thought Emmett would leave without dropping a bomb meant to rip a hole in his life? All those claims of brotherly affection had been bullshit, and Zane had known it. He’d just been too hopeful that Emmett had changed to remember the real fuel that fed his brother’s animosity—the bitter jealously and unforgiving hatred for a family that had reached out to save Zane, but not him.

Zane could deny that the Chambers family meant anything to him any longer. Emmett had been gone for seven years, and they’d had little contact before that. But if he’d known Rena, he’d been back for at least a month, time he’d obviously spent watching and listening. He probably knew Zane and Will met for breakfast almost every Sunday. Denying their friendship would be impossible.

Like so many survivors of abuse, Emmett had developed the instincts of a predator, learning how to go for the most vulnerable spot. Zane’s was easy—his whole life, he’d had only one friend in B-Pass.

Warning Emmett off would only make Will and his family more of a target. “We’re friendly,” he admitted. “Not friends. I like my privacy.” He remained still, not tensing a muscle or blinking an eye, radiating what he hoped looked like a total lack of concern.
You can’t hurt me because I don’t care about anyone but myself
. Surely his brother could identify with that philosophy.

Emmett paused before turning the corner into the mudroom and the back door. Zane willed him to keep going, to leave and never come back.

“No friends—that’s socially dysfunctional. I’m concerned about you, Zane.”

“Blame it on my poor upbringing.”

“Maybe you could find a woman. There’s a lot of fun to be had with a woman.”

Hairs stood up on the nape of his neck. No, not her.

Emmett reached for the doorknob, then turned, releasing his carefully timed arrow as if it was an afterthought. “Personally, I’m looking forward to getting to know that Sophie Larkin. I think she could be a whole lot of fun.”

The soft click of the back door echoed the sickening thud in his heart as Zane felt the bottom drop out of his life.

10

S
ophie called Zane
every name in the book, plus a few that would have blistered the pages. He deserved them all. He could spend a wild, sweaty night with a tramp like Rena Torres, but pathetically eager Sophie he satisfied in a parking lot.

It didn’t say much for her, either. Clothes hadn’t even been removed, for God’s sake! She didn’t have to ask to know that Rena had gotten full-out nudity with lots of skin-on-skin action.

Sophie was furious.

She was also jealous of a dead girl. How sick was that?

And she had no right to judge Rena for sleeping with a man Sophie herself couldn’t seem to resist. So what if Rena had slept with a few other men while she was in Barringer’s Pass? The young woman’s behavior might easily be that of a desperately insecure and lonely person, searching for some semblance of love in a heartless world.

Or she was a slut. Whichever.

She was not proud of that sentiment.

But the real point was what Zane had chosen to do with each of them. Rena had gotten a night of incredible, if meaningless, sex. Sophie had gotten a quick reminder of what Zane could do to her body without even trying. Then nothing.

She hated him. Men berated women for being teases, and this was no different. The only question was why he’d done it, since he’d obviously been turned on, too. She could think of only one reason—to humiliate her. To get her to the point of panting, yearning lust, exposing her undiminished desire for him, then callously walking away. It had worked all too well.

She was embarrassed that she’d fallen for it. Also, spitting mad.

The anger hadn’t faded the next day when she went to Maggie and Cal’s house for dinner. Cal probably would have been glad to help verbally rip Zane to shreds, but she wasn’t about to share her pitiful inability to resist him with her sister and brother-in-law. It didn’t help that Maggie kept probing for information about their relationship, as if sensing that she was hiding something. The more Sophie fended her off, the more it seemed to feed Maggie’s curiosity.

“Zane sure has you working long hours,” Maggie said as they ate.

“You work long hours, too. How are things going at the store?”

“Fine. But I have help. I don’t work ten- and twelve-hour days like Zane has you doing.”

She had done that, but didn’t know how Maggie knew it. “He has to work while he can. Landscapers around here can’t do much in the winter except plow snow, so whenever it’s light and the ground’s not frozen, he’s working. Which means I’m working.” And that was enough about Zane. “Tell me what’s new at the store. Anything I might like?”

“Fossilized raptor eggs,” she said in a brisk brush-off. “And that’s not exactly true, Sophie, that you work until dark. You’ve been there much later. I happened to drive by there the other evening well after nine and your Jeep was still parked out front.”

“Did you really?” She arched an eyebrow at her sister, who didn’t flinch at the scrutiny. “We have to put supplies away when we get back, and I’ve been helping Zane with office stuff since his clerk bailed. It’s an income, and I need it.” Maggie hummed a response that told Sophie her curiosity hadn’t been satisfied, but she ignored it. “Fossilized eggs sound cool,” she said, determined to steer the conversation away from Zane. “What do they cost?”

“Thousands.” She waved a hand, dismissing Sophie’s interest as being out of her price range. “Speaking of his clerk bailing, Cal said
all
of Zane’s regular employees ditched their jobs. Does that mean you two are the
only
ones there?”

Sophie paused with a forkful of mashed potatoes in front of her mouth, then lowered them and turned a hard look on her sister. “No, I’m not the only one. A friend of his helps us sometimes. But if I decide to have a hot after-hours affair with either of them, I’ll let you know. How’s that?”

Maggie lifted an eyebrow. “Fine.”

She didn’t have any confidence that the subject had been closed, so she turned to her brother-in-law, who’d been steadily plowing through his meat loaf and mashed potatoes. “How’s the investigation going, Cal?”

He ladled extra gravy onto his potatoes. “Why are you asking? So you can report back to our number one suspect?”

Sophie blinked at the unexpected response. Even Maggie gave him a startled glance. “Cal,” she said, then gave him a look, one of those wordless communications between husband and wife.

He met his wife’s gaze across the table. “Sophie runs interference for him, Maggie. I have to question whose side she’s on.”

Sophie narrowed her gaze at him, irritated, but also puzzled. This seemed to be the new dynamic between them, Cal aggressively going after Zane while she stood up for the rights that no one else seemed willing to defend. That was the most irritating part, that she had to set her anger with Zane aside to see that he wasn’t railroaded into the murder charge that the whole town was willing to settle on him.

Her annoyance gathered itself into words. “Why would I have to choose a side? There are no sides, unless you can prove Zane did it.”

“I’m working on it,” Cal said. It was his calm, firm cop voice, and she hated that it put a barrier between them, as if she was on the wrong side of the law simply because she expected a fair and impartial investigation. “And I’m sincerely hoping you won’t be in the way when we have to arrest your friend.”

“He’s not . . .” The denial was automatic, but she realized she didn’t know what he was to her, so she changed it to a frustrated sigh. “Why aren’t you looking for other suspects? Men Rena might have gone out with. She must have met lots of people here, especially if she was a small-time actress looking to make it big. From what I’ve seen, those girls aren’t shy about going after what they want, and this town is full of actors and producers. I can’t believe she didn’t take advantage of that.”

He gave her a long look as he chewed, apparently deciding how much he could tell her. “She tried. From what we’ve heard so far, no one was interested.”

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”

He went still, as if that one suggestion had tripped every cop instinct. “Where do you suggest we look?” he asked.

For a moment they were a frozen tableau, staring at each other. Even Maggie, who obviously sensed the tension even if she didn’t know the details of what lay behind it, stopped midchew.

Sophie swallowed a lump of food that had suddenly gone tasteless. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I just think you could connect her to other people.” She didn’t want to mention the Moosehead for fear they’d be able to place Zane there along with Rena. Maybe they’d even find a witness who saw them leave together. Then he’d really be screwed. But if the police didn’t find other suspects, he was screwed anyway.

Cal put his fork down and leaned toward her. “Sophie, if you know something that could help this investigation, I suggest you tell me. Now.”

Maggie looked between them nervously. “Cal . . .”

He held a hand up, silencing her as he continued to pin Sophie with his sharp gaze. “Your sister’s chosen to align herself with a possible killer, Maggie. They apparently spend all day together, and half the night. I want to hear what she knows.”

She felt herself flush with anger at being cornered during a family dinner, making everyone uncomfortable. Even more, that she’d been so transparent Cal had guessed she was hiding something. It was best to concentrate on the first reason.

Tapping into her self-righteous indignation, she laid her fork down, too, staring back just as hard. “I don’t know anything that would help your investigation.” Only something that would help Zane look guilty. “And I have
not
aligned myself with Zane. For your information, I don’t even like him. But I won’t stand by and see
anyone
convicted of something they didn’t do.”

“And what if he did do it?”

“Then you’ll be able to prove it.”

Her stubborn reply was meant to end the conversation, bringing it full circle and reducing them to mutual glares. But Cal wasn’t playing by the same rules. He put both forearms on the table, leaning closer. “No, Sophie, that’s not the correct response to ‘What if he did it?’ The correct response is, ‘If he did it once, he might do it again.’ ”

It stopped her cold. Cal watched her closely, as if she was a suspect on the edge of breaking. “Does he have a temper, Sophie?” His low voice was satin smooth, sending goose bumps down her arms. “From his gene pool alone, I’d guess he does, with a distinct slant toward taking it out on women. And he’s under a lot of pressure lately, maybe ready to snap. If he does, guess who’s always around? Guess who will be the target for all his frustrations?”

Maggie slammed her hands onto the table, making it shake. “Stop it!”

They both looked at her. Her sister’s angry face made Sophie instantly sorry, and an apology sprang to her lips. But Maggie didn’t cool off that easily. The fingers she pressed to the table were turning white from pressure, and a small tremor ran through her body. If her jaw hadn’t been clamped in rage, Sophie was sure they’d both get a stinging lecture for arguing at the dinner table and for bringing Cal’s murder investigation into her home. As it was, all she could manage to say between clenched teeth was, “Not here. Not now.”

It was enough. Sophie sat back, not exactly contrite, but aware that this was the wrong time and place. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Maggie nodded once, then shifted her eyes to Cal’s. Grim- faced, he rose and walked around the far side of the table, stopping beside her. Cupping a hand under his wife’s jaw, he raised her head and placed a kiss on her forehead. Slow and tender. His hand lingered, stroking her hair as he gave her a tight smile.

Even Sophie could interpret that apology. He was sorry for disrupting their dinner, sorry for how he’d had to treat her sister. But not sorry he’d done it. And regretful that in the same situation he would do it again. It was a no-win situation for him, and he knew it. Without a word, he left the room.

Sophie watched Maggie’s jaw work as she stared blankly at the table, and cringed inside. “I really am sorry, Maggie,” she said.

“For what?”

She hesitated, struggling to sort it out. Not for standing by her principals, and not for standing by Zane. “For involving you.”

Maggie looked at her, and she saw steel behind the weariness. “I’m involved because you insist on opposing my husband. And putting yourself in danger. He’s right about that, and you know it.”

Sophie licked her lips, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not in any danger from Zane.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“So do I.” The words were whispered out, nearly choking her. She stood reluctantly. “Thanks for supper, Maggie. I think I should go now.”

Maggie stood, too, sadness mixed with fear in her eyes. “I hope to hell you know what you’re doing, Sophie.”

She didn’t bother to tell her sister that she did, because she couldn’t convince her. Instead, she pulled Maggie into a quick hug. “I’ll see you later.”

As though clinging to that hope, Maggie held her in a tight grip for several seconds before letting her go. Sophie left without looking back; her sister’s agonized expression would hurt too much and wouldn’t change anything.

She drove home with the windows down despite the light rain. A fresh, woodsy scent blew off the mountains and the rustle of aspen leaves blended with the sound of her tires on wet pavement. She inhaled deeply, letting the familiar smell soak in, hoping it would help settle the roiling emotions inside her.

It didn’t.

Zane had to warn her. He’d rather never talk to her again, but no woman should have to meet Emmett without knowing exactly what he was.

And they would meet. Emmett knew about her, which made it inevitable. It was all part of the game for him, pulling Zane’s strings until he learned which one had the potential to cause the most pain. If Emmett knew him at all, his target had already been narrowed to destroying Zane’s business and destroying the person he cared about most. Emmett was probably trying to figure out whether that person was Sophie or Will.

It shouldn’t be relevant, because he and Sophie weren’t friends. But Emmett didn’t know that, and Zane was honest enough with himself to know it might not be evident if he saw them together. They would look like more than friends. It didn’t matter that she only used him for whatever she needed at the moment, whether it was an income or immediate sexual gratification. He had a weakness for her that betrayed him every time. He watched her when she wasn’t looking, touched her when he didn’t have to. He stood too close, breathing her in. Emmett would see it, and Sophie would be in danger.

Knowing he had to warn her ruined his whole morning. It was going to make him sound caring, like he was concerned for her safety, and she would probably think he was falling for her all over again. It pissed him off.

He grumbled to himself about it and was short with Hooter and Manny, whom he’d talked into coming back. The bonuses he’d promised had persuaded them, bonuses he couldn’t afford if business didn’t pick up dramatically. Still, he’d seen them exchange a couple of glances after he barked out orders. They were probably ready to say screw it and leave again.