Wildfire (20 page)

Lynn leaned over and covered one of the old man’s hands with
hers. She gently squeezed. “Yes, you were both lucky to have found that,” she
said. An aching need blasted through her, she remembered how she’d felt dancing
with Jack. Would she ever feel that content again?

Tavistock looked up and smiled. “Yeah, nothing else
matters.”

Lynn thanked him for sharing his story, collected her
photographs and left. As she drove away, she saw Tavistock gently swinging on
the porch and smiling to himself.

Back at the office, Lynn focused on the facts. She reported
the fire accurately and mentioned that Elsie set the fire and died at the scene.
Conscientiously, Lynn put in that the county sheriff’s department was still
investigating and that the Justice of the Peace was waiting on an official
autopsy report from Lubbock.

She wrote a second story focused on the love between the
couple. She reported how they met and how they stood by each other. For all
concerned, Mrs. Tavistock had been a well-loved and loving spouse. What she did
in the end didn’t matter, not to the love story.

Lynn wrote about Mr. Tavistock, who loved his wife deeply,
perhaps so much that he gave in to Elsie’s last wish. She wrote about his
anguish at her death. She wrote about the serene smile that lit up the old
rancher’s face as he relived the memories of his wife. By the time she ended, Lynn
had tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat.

After reading the story once more, she sent it to the
editor. She’d done her best. Hopefully, her best was good enough. Lynn hoped
she’d portrayed the couple with respectful dignity. She really didn’t want to
add to Tavistock’s pain. The story was good, but the people involved were more
important. A yawn escaped as weariness rolled over. Folding her arms on the
desk, she rested her head. When she closed her eyes, Lynn saw Amos and Elsie
dancing. Another couple whirled close by— Jack and herself.

Lynn jumped out of bed at 7 a.m. and scooted out the door.
Only to find Jen already sitting on the porch with a neglected cup of coffee
and the paper.

She looked up with red-rimmed eyes and thrust the paper at
her. “You’re up early.”

Lynn almost stopped breathing as she grabbed the paper and
eyed Jen uneasily. “Is my story in there?”

Jen nodded.

“Did you read it?”

Another nod.

“Well?” Lynn asked, exasperated.

Jen burst into tears. “It’s so sad,” she wailed. “It’s so… so…
beautiful.”

Lynn shuffled her bare feet uncomfortably, shivering in the
morning air. “So do you think a lot of people might be upset by my story?” she
asked. Then in a whisper she added, “Do you think it was tasteless of me?”

Jen took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her face. She
shook her head vigorously. “No, no,” she said. “I think it’s very moving. I
think you’ve paid a great homage to their love.”

Lynn’s whole body loosened in relief. “Oh good,” she said. “That’s
what I was trying for.”

After Jen left for the studio, Lynn finally looked at the
paper. Hernandez had run the picture of the dancing couple on the front page.
After reading the story, Lynn quickly changed and left for work.

She hurried into the office and slipped into the unoccupied desk
near Missy. The buxom blonde looked up, smiling, and held out a blueberry
muffin. “For you.”

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d missed
breakfast. She grabbed the muffin. “Thanks. These are in your diet plan?”

“Yup, these are low-fat— I baked them myself,” Missy said.
“Low in fat, but not on taste.”

Lynn looked dubiously at the muffin. In her opinion, most
low-fat and no-fat foods tasted like cardboard. Her stomach rumbled again and
she bit into the muffin. Mmm, she had to agree with Missy.

“This is really good,” she said, swallowing her first
mouthful.

Missy grinned back at her. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry for
poking my nose into your story yesterday,” she said. “You did good.”

Lynn nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “And don’t be sorry. I’m
glad you talked to me yesterday. Made me think about the story more.”

They both turned back to their respective computers. Lynn
pulled out her arson file with a pang of guilt. She was no closer to
identifying the fire bug. Henry or Jack? Well, nothing better than tackling it
with a vengeance now. Maybe she’d catch up with missed work and make some
progress.

The Society Page picture of Kate Harrington and Jack lay
right on top. Why had she saved this crap? She pulled it out intending to toss
it in the trash, but found herself zeroing in on the woman’s face. Kate just
rubbed her wrong. Could she be jealous? Lynn dismissed the notion —she didn’t have
a jealous bone in her body— and tapped her fingers on the desk. Okay, she was
jealous.

Lynn typed in Kate’s name in the search engine. Let’s get
the deets on the competition. Soon she had some court records— divorce and
bankruptcy filings. She let out a low whistle.

Missy stopped typing. “What?”

“She’s divorced.”

“Who’s divorced?”

“Um, Kate Harrington.” Lynn pushed hair out of her face.
“I-um-met her at the Fire Department picnic.”
Divorced meant single and
available. Not good
.

“Oh my, you had the pleasure of meeting the Queen.” Missy
shot her a grin.

“She is kind of intimidating.”

“You could say that.” Missy glanced this way and that. “I
call it looking down her nose at everybody like she’s too good for this town.”

Lynn studied the screen again. The records were filed in Dallas
County. “Looks like she’d been in Dallas for a bit, but chose to come back to
Paradise Valley.”

At this, Missy popped out of her chair and leaned over the
cubicle wall. “She didn’t exactly have much choice.” Her voice lowered to a
whisper. “The divorce was messy and she got saddled with the ex-husband’s
gambling debts.”

“Oh.” That explained the bankruptcy filing. “Good thing her
family’s ranch is held in a trust.”

Missy nodded. “Yeah, otherwise she’d have lost it too.”

Before Lynn could ask anything else, Hernandez stepped out
of his office and bellowed Missy’s name.

As the other reporter hurried to the editor’s office, Lynn
turned back to her computer. She’d wasted enough time on Kate, time to turn her
attention to Henry. With a sigh, she typed in his name and hit enter. Nothing
happened. She grabbed her mouse and clicked like crazy. Nothing. No, no, no.
She let her head fall forward and land on her desk with a thump. A collective
groan echoed around the room. The system had crashed.

Her stomach screamed in hunger. Not sure what to do next,
Lynn grabbed her bag and a newspaper and walked to Fuentes.

The restaurant was packed. Instead of waiting for a table,
Lynn hopped onto a stool at the bar and placed her order. She unfolded the
paper and looked around the room. A familiar pair caught her attention. Tom
Jarvis sat at a table just a few feet away with another man. Henry Chase stood
next to them, three-quarters turned away from Lynn.

She opened the paper at random and buried her head deep into
the pages. Lynn wasn’t in the mood for Henry’s bantering and flirting. At the
same time, she couldn’t help wondering about the group. She peeked from behind
the paper and tried to catch the conversation.

“Yeah, I read about the fire in the paper,” Henry was
saying. “I’m very sorry about your loss.”

“Not as sorry as I am,” Jarvis muttered.

“Well, the offer still stands.” Henry spread his hands,
smiling wide.

Jarvis stood up and got into Henry’s face. “Well, I’m still
not selling.” He used his finger to drive home the point.

Henry snarled and pushed close to Jarvis. She couldn’t catch
what he said, but the other man dropped back into his chair. Next, Henry pulled
out a card and tucked it into the man’s shirt pocket. “If you change your
mind,” he said. “It’s easy money Tom. Think about it.” He tipped his hat and
left.

Seconds later, Jarvis pulled out the card, crumpled it and
threw it on the table. Then he and the other man got up and left as well.
Interesting.

Lynn’s food arrived. She picked up her fork and dug into it
while wondering about the exchange. Her mind kept returning to the nasty smile
she’d caught on Henry’s face as he strode out. Of course, Tom got rude
first…but she’d expected Henry to deal with it with his usual humor.

Instead, he’d been…what? Scary. His movements, his smile,
even his words now that she thought about it, had exhibited a cool viciousness.
Lynn shivered. It was as if she’d just seen the Mr. Hyde part of Henry. Maybe
she’d get more insight at their interview Monday.

Chapter
20

Somehow, when Henry had mentioned a cozy, quaint restaurant
on the shores of Lake Nasworthy, removed from the pedestrian city life, this
was not what she’d pictured. She huffed out a breath and rested her chin on the
steering wheel. The mustang, she’d wanted to rent something with style, stuck
out like a perfectly manicured cherry-red thumb. Neither the sun-bleached
wooden shack, listing to the left and billowing smoke, nor some of the patrons
emerging from rust-bucket, diesel chugging trucks, inspired her confidence. Well,
she couldn’t sit idling in front of the door while she thought things through.
Changing gears, she drove to the far edge of the lot to give her vehicle plenty
of personal space, half-hidden by a stand of mesquites.

Maybe it would have been wiser to cancel the interview. Henry’s
face from Fuentes filled her mind along with a shiver of unease. What if he was
the rogue? What if he was the caller? She pressed her lips together. Damn. The
fires were driving her crazy, making her suspect everyone and everything. Or
was she so desperate to clear Jack, that she’d started to suspect everyone else?

Focus on the present
. Should she go in to the bar or
not? Lynn pinched the bridge of her nose. To be fair, the mouthwatering aroma
of cooking meat and the packed parking lot indicated the place might have some
merit. The front door flew open and a mountain of a man dragged another out by
the scruff of his neck and threw him into the dust. “Git outta here, you sorry
ass drunk!”

Or maybe not.

At least, there seemed to be security of sorts. And while
she could take care of herself, no sense in pulling a horror-flick move and
walking into trouble. Something told her a single female would invite too much
attention, unwanted attention. She glanced at her watch. Six forty-five.
Arriving early had seemed like a good idea: she could grab a table and work on
the questions she wanted to ask about the development. Probably not such a good
move. She sighed, fingering the grooves on the steering wheel. Best to wait for
her seven o’ clock appointment and watch for Henry from the safety of her car.

A gleaming black and chrome pickup squealed into the parking
lot. She watched the gravel fly as it pulled into a spot closer to her than the
other vehicles. Apparently, the driver didn’t want his vehicle dinged or
scratched either. Henry hopped out and slammed the door. Dressed in faded jeans
and a black button-down shirt, he peered into the side mirror and fixed his
hair.

Lynn grinned and exited the car. Gripping her backpack under
one arm, she hurried toward him. “Hi Mr. Chase!”

He whipped around. After a few seconds, a Colgate white
smile appeared. “Did we backslide or something? I thought we were on a first
name basis.”

“Right, Henry.” She giggled because that’s what he seemed to
be expecting. “I wasn’t sure if I was at the right place, but this is the
address you gave me.”

Henry laughed. “Yeah, it doesn’t look like much, but it’s
the best kept secret in the West.”

His hand rested at the small of her back as they entered the
dimly lit interior. Lynn considered putting a bit of space between them, but
given the environment, maybe Henry was just being careful and a gentleman. He
nodded to the man behind the makeshift counter/display case featuring all kinds
of fishing lures. Recognizing his scowling face from the parking lot, she
sidled past, allowing Henry to steer her toward the back, past couples dancing
to juke box tunes, to the tables.

On the way, they stopped by a kitchen window and placed
their orders. They stood a few minutes reading the menu tacked to the wall. A
pink-faced woman, wearing a sauce-splattered apron, appeared at the window with
a pad and pen. “What’ll it be hon?”

“I’ll have a brisket sandwich, fries, and a cold Shiner
Bock, and just a glass of San Angelo tap water for the lady,” Henry said.

“Hey!” Lynn glared at him, a smile twitching her lips. Part
of her was relieved to find that the mischievous Henry had returned.

He grinned. “Decided to mix some pleasure with business
after all?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, then turned to the waitress. “An
order of barbecued chicken and coleslaw with a Diet Coke, please.” Lynn turned
back to Henry. “I’m so looking forward to grilling you.” The server handed
Henry their drinks and a wood chip with a number.

They settled on a table in the less crowded part of the
room. She tore some paper towel from the roll on the table and dusted off
crumbs and peanuts shells from her chair before sitting.

Henry rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward.
“So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

A part of her enjoyed his easy flirting, but she had more
important concerns. Lynn pulled out her note pad and pen. “Getting some answers
from you about Hope development.”

He laughed. “I meant, what brought you to West Texas?”

She arched an eyebrow. “And I meant, let’s get down to
business.”

He smirked as he eyed her. “Yes ma’am.” He sipped his beer.

She flipped her notepad open to a fresh page. “So who’ll be
able to afford all the $400,000 houses that your company is planning on
building?”

“This is what we call a high-end development.” Henry sat
straighter. “We’re marketing them as ranchettes to people in big cities like
Houston, Dallas, Los Angeles and New York.”

“Why would people leave such exciting cities to come to the
middle of nowhere?”

“Lower taxes.” Henry took a swallow of beer. “Actually, a
lot of people are getting tired of fast-paced cities and searching for a
simpler life. Paradise Valley, with the Concho River running through it, the
old trees and the mesas in the background, can be an ideal setting for the
right development.”

Lynn bent her head and wrote his answer. “Number 52!” rang
out into the room. Henry scraped back his chair, grabbed her half-empty glass
and headed for the kitchen window. She watched couples whirl by— some had the
bright flush of new romance, others the practiced grace of years of dancing
together. Her heart ached. Would she ever find a man to grow old with, to dance
the years away with until the two moved as one? The smell of smoky Mesquite
overwhelmed her senses and memory of dancing with Jack followed in its wake.
Impossible. Stop yearning for the impossible. She blew out a breath. Her
hormones had clearly gone haywire.

“Trouble in Paradise?” Henry’s voice made her jump and
straighten. He slid her plate in front of her. She’d been so busy feeling
maudlin, she’d completely missed his return. Lynn smiled her thanks and
scribbled “Tavistock” in her notebook. Underlined the name a few times.

Henry arched an eyebrow at her as he set her Diet Coke down.

She gulped down some soda, glanced at her notebook and back
at him. Time to dig deeper. “What? Do you know him?”

He placed the tray on an empty chair at the table and sat.
“Made him an offer soon after I got here. Maybe I’ll visit him again.” He bit
into his sandwich.

She tapped her pen against her chin. “I heard you visited
him the day his home burned down.”

He chewed and swallowed. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Tavistock told me when I interviewed him after the fire,”
she said, taking another fortifying drink. “So what were you doing there?”

Henry washed his food down with some beer. “Trying to do my
job,” he said. “I upped the offer, but he still turned me down.”

“Why?” Lynn sipped some coke, waiting for his answer.

“He’s a stubborn old fool.”

An image of Amos and Elsie floated into her mind. Lynn
blinked back the moisture stinging her eyes. “Why did you approach Tom Jarvis
again? He’s already turned you down too, right?”

Henry leaned back his chair and studied her. “You following
me?”

Inane laughter bubbled out of her. “Nope. Just happened to
be in the right place at the right time.”

His gaze shuttered as he played with a gold ring on his
right ring finger. “Yeah, I approached him again thinking the fire at his house
might have changed his mind, but I was wrong.”

Something whispered through her mind and a strange languor
grasped Lynn, weighing her down. Lynn leaned back her head, making her hair
dance around her shoulders and gazed at Henry under heavy-lidded eyes. “And
you’re still plan to go back again. Why?” Her tongue seemed to trip on itself.

With a bemused smile, Henry propped his head with a fisted
hand. The shiny gold band glinted and gleamed at her, inviting her to touch.
“Life’s taught me to go after what I want.”

Not sure how to respond, she glanced away. A glint of gold
caught her attention.

“Nice ring.”

Henry stilled, a red flush spreading across his cheeks. Looking
down at his hands, he shrugged. “Just a memento of my mother’s.”

“Somehow I’d have never figured you for a sentimental sort.”
She giggled and leaned forward.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He flicked an
errant curl that’d tumbled across her face. A finger brushed her cheek, the
touch echoed deep inside, a stroke against her thoughts.
“So are we here to talk about me or Hope Development?”

Lynn pushed herself straight. “How would the development
impact the local economy?”

Henry washed his food down with some beer. “First of all
this is a $120 million project but that’s just the beginning.” He shot her a
practiced smile. “We’ll be hiring all local firms and labor to build it, we’ll
purchase a large amount of the materials locally and then we’ll be selling
these ranchettes to people with great spending potential.” His smile widened.
“The county’s tax revenues are going to rocket.”

She jotted down his answer, but her writing resembled bird
tracks in the dirt. The letters swam in front of her eyes. What was wrong with
her?

Henry pointed at her plate. “All work and no food will make
Lynn starve.” He stood and grabbed her empty glass. “I’ll get you a refill.”

That’s it— she needed to eat. Lynn finished jotting her notes
and set the notebook aside. She picked up her chicken leg, took a bite, and
almost moaned. Juicy meat with a smoky mesquite aroma. She tried the coleslaw.
Cool and sweet with a bite of horseradish. Mmmmm.

Henry returned to the table as she licked her fingers.
“Finger lickin’ good?”

She giggled. “My faith in your ability to choose a
restaurant is restored. This is good.”

Henry grinned. “Glad to hear that. So, how about dinner
tomorrow?”

Lynn choked on her bite. Coughing and sputtering, she stared
at him. Finally, after a drink, she cleared her throat. “Are you asking me out
on a date?”

Say yes. Say yes.

“No, I just like to eat.” His gray eyes danced with
mischief. “Especially, with beautiful women.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like I said, I don’t mix business with
pleasure.”

“When’s the story coming out?” He leaned forward, his gaze
boring into hers.

“Wednesday.”

“Let’s have dinner Wednesday night.”

Her heart twisted as Rob, then Jack came to mind. “I-I
can’t.”

“Thursday then.”

Geez. “You weren’t kidding about being persistent.”

“I don’t mind being patient at all, as long as I get what I
want in the end.” He stared into her eyes and leaned closer.

Warmth shivered through her.
Give this a chance
.
Jack’s words —
I suggest you make it the next guy’s business
— echoed in
her head. She dropped her gaze to the peanut littered floor. “I really
shouldn’t, I’m not ready for a relationship.” She sighed and wiggled the
fingers of her left hand at him. “In fact, I ended an engagement not too long
ago.”

“Then there’s Jack.”

Lynn’s head shot up so fast that the room spun a few times.
Her gaze locked with Henry. Was she that transparent? “Then there’s Jack.”

Henry’s face hardened. For a moment something cold and cruel
peeked out. Lynn suppressed a shudder. Then it was gone, replaced with his
usual amused expression. “Well.” He leaned back in his chair and swigged his
beer. “I was asking you to dinner, not for your hand in marriage.”

She searched his gaze for any hint of anger, but only found
amusement. Maybe she’d imagined the menace? Her recent experiences had her
spooked. “I know.” She shrugged. “I, I just wanted us to be on the same page.”

He nodded and drank some more beer. “No reason we can’t be
friendly.” He smiled. “Hey, we Houstonites need to stick together.” He raised
his beer bottle. “To friendship.”

After a few attempts, Lynn clinked the bottle with her Diet
Coke. She took a gulp, enjoying the sweet, fizzy taste. Henry really was a nice
guy.

The soulful strains of “
Silver Wings
” emanated from
the jukebox. Henry’s warm hand covered hers. “How about a dance?”

Dance? She could barely stay awake. “Don thin so.”

He stood, pulling her. “Come on, we know you can dance. Be
nice.”

Nice. It’d be nice to dance with a nice guy like Henry
.
Lynn stumbled to her feet and followed his lead. He wrapped one arm around her
waist and the other around her shoulders, pulling her close against the line of
his body. She sank into his steady, strong solidity. They began moving. Her
head throbbed as the room swayed, the lights flared and dimmed, and the other
dancing couples blurred together. She cushioned her head against his shoulder
and closed her eyes, losing herself into the slow, sensuous rhythm.

His lips grazed an ear, a wet flick of the tongue. Her eyes
flew open as she jerked away from him or tried to. A reptilian chill permeated
her thoughts and set her shivering. Lynn’s legs had turned to rubber and
vertigo gripped her. Within seconds, she’d slumped in his arms.