Нора Робертс - Chasing Fire

“I’m just saying what I heard.” After pouring the eggs into an omelet pan, Marg added chunks of ham, cheese, tomatoes, some spinach. “Some of the thinking is maybe she walked on back to the highway, or somebody followed her onto the service road. And they took her.”

“They still don’t know if the remains in the fire... they can’t know that for sure.”

“Then there’s no point in worrying about it.”

Marg tried for brisk, but Rowan heard the hitch in her voice that told her Marg worried plenty.

“I wanted to hurt her, and seriously regretted not getting my fist in her face at least once. Now, knowing somebody might’ve hurt her, or worse? I don’t want to feel guilty about Dolly. I hate feeling guilty about anything, but I hate feeling guilty about Dolly.”

“I’ve never known anybody better at bringing trouble and drama onto herself than Dolly Brakeman. And if L.B. hadn’t fired her, I’d have told him flat he’d have to choose between her and me. I don’t feel guilty about that. I can be sorry if something’s happened to her without feeling guilty I wanted to give her the back of my hand more than once.”

Marg set the omelet and the wheat toast with plum preserves she’d prepared in front of Rowan. “Eat. You’ve shed a few pounds, and it’s too early in the season for that.”

“It’s the first season I’ve needed an alibi for a murder investigation.”

“I wouldn’t mind having an alibi like yours.”

Rowan dug into the omelet. “Do you want him when I’m done with him? Ow.” Rowan laughed when Marg cuffed the side of her head. “And after I offer you such a studly guy.” She smiled, shooting for winsome.

“When do you think you’ll be done with him? In case I’m in the market for a stud.”

“Can’t say. So far he’s playing my tune, but I’ll let you know.”

When Marg set a Coke down by her plate, Rowan leaned into her just a little. “Thanks, Marg. Really.”

In acknowledgment, Marg gave her a hard one-armed hug. “Clean your plate,” she ordered.

After breakfast, she tracked down L.B. in the gym where he’d worked up a sweat with bench presses.

“I’m on the bottom of the jump list,” she said without preamble.

He sat up, wiped his face with his towel. His long braid trailed down his sweaty, sleeveless workout shirt. “That’s right.” He picked up a twenty-pound free weight and started smooth, two-count bicep curls.

“Why?”

“Because that’s where I put you. I’d have taken you off completely for a day or two, but they’ve caught one down in Payette, and Idaho might need some Zulies in there.”

“I’m fit and I’m fine. Move me up. Christ, L.B., you’ve got Stovic ahead of me, and he’s still limping a little.”

“You’ve been on nearly every jump we’ve had this month. You need a breather.”

“I don’t—”

“I say you do,” he interrupted, and switched the weight to his other arm while he studied her face. “It’s my job to decide that.”

“This is about what happened yesterday, and that’s not right. I need the work, I need the pay. I’m not injured, I’m not sick.”

“You need a breather,” he repeated. “Put some time in the loft. We’re still catching up there. I’ll take a look at the list tomorrow.”

“I find remains, which I dutifully report, and I get grounded.”

“You’re still on the list,” he reminded her. “And you know jumping fire’s not all we do here.”

She also knew that when Michael Little Bear used that mild, reasonable tone, she’d have better luck arguing with smoke. She could sulk, she could steam, but she wouldn’t change his mind.

“Maybe I’ll go down and see my father for a bit.”

“That’s a good idea. Let me know if you decide you want to go farther off base.”

“I know the drill,” she grumbled. She started to shove her hands in her pockets, then went stiff when Lieutenant Quinniock walked in. “Cops are here,” she said quietly.

L.B. set down his weight, got to his feet.

“Mr. Little Bear, Ms. Tripp. I’ve got a few follow-up questions.”

“I’ll get out of your way,” Rowan began.

“Actually, I’d like to speak with you, too. Why don’t we step out. You can finish your workout,” he said to L.B., “then we could talk in your office.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

“That works. Miss?” Quinniock, in his polished shoes and stone-gray suit, gestured toward the gym doors.

“Don’t ‘Miss’ me. Make it Tripp,” she said as she shoved open the door ahead of him. “Or Rowan, or Ro, but don’t ‘Miss’ me unless you’re sad I’ve gone away.”

He smiled. “Rowan. Would you mind if we sat outside? This is a busy place.”

“Do you want me to go over my—what would you call it?—altercation with Dolly?”

“Do you have anything to add to what you’ve already told me?”

“No.”

“She got the pig’s blood from a ranch, if you’re interested. From one of the people who goes to her church.”

“Onward, Christian soldiers.” She dropped down on a bench outside the barracks.

“She acquired it the day before she came here to ask for work.” He nodded when Rowan turned to stare at him. “It leads me to conclude she meant to cause you trouble, even before you and she spoke the day she was hired back on.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered what I said or did.”

“Probably not. I understand you spoke with Special Agent DiCicco.”

“She’s a snappy dresser. You too.”

“I like a good suit. It complicated things for you, finding the remains.”

“Complicated because it was during a fire, or because Dolly’s missing?”

“Both. The missing person’s end is MPD’s case, at this time. We’re cooperating with the USFS while they work to identify the body. In that spirit, I’ve shared information with Agent DiCicco.”

“My history, as she called it, with Dolly.”

“That, and the fact Dolly told several people you were to blame for what happened to James Brayner. You, and everyone here. She’s been vocal about her resentment for some time, including the period of time she was away from Missoula.”

It didn’t surprise her, could no longer anger her. “I don’t know how she could work here, be involved with jumpers, and not understand what we do, how we do it, what we deal with.”

She looked at Quinniock then, the dramatic hair, the perfectly knotted tie. “And I’m not sure I understand why you’re telling me this.”

“It’s possible she planned to continue to cause trouble—for you, for the base. It’s possible she came back here for work so she had easier access. And it’s possible she had help. Someone she convinced to help her. Did you see her with anyone in particular after she came back?”

“No.”

“She and Matthew Brayner, the brother.”

Rowan’s back went up. “She blindsided Matt, the Brayner family, with the baby. I know they all took a natural interest in the baby and, being the kind of people they are, would do whatever they could for Dolly. It took guts for Matt to come back here, to work here after what happened to Jim. Any idea you may have that he’d help Dolly destroy my quarters or equipment is wrong and insulting.”

“Were they friendly while his brother was alive?”

“I don’t think Matt gave Dolly two thoughts, but he was, and is, friendly with everyone. And I’m not talking about another jumper behind his back.”

“I’m just trying to get a feel for the dynamics. I’m also told several of the men on base had relationships with Dolly, at least until she became involved with James Brayner.”

“Sex isn’t a relationship, especially blow-off-some-steam sex with a woman who was willing to pop the cork with pretty much anybody. She popped plenty of corks in town, too.”