Нора Робертс - Chasing Fire

When Rowan stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, a still filthy Gull was sitting on the floor.

“Is something wrong with your shower?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been in it yet.”

“I’ve got a lot to do before I’m done, so we’ll have to reschedule the hot sex portion of the evening.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind, Swede. I like the track, but there are more than one.”

She opened a drawer, selected yoga pants and a top.

“I’ll give you the rundown,” Gull began. “Trigger dragged Cards to the infirmary. The wound’s clean. No infection, but it’s pretty damn deep. Plastic surgeon recommended, and after some bullshit, he’s going into town to see one in the morning. He wants to keep his pretty face.”

“That’s good.” She pulled on the pants and top without bothering with underwear—something Gull appreciated whatever the circumstances. “And it’ll be fun to rag him about plastic surgery,” she added, stepping back into the bath to hang the towel. “We ought to get some fun out of it.”

“Trigger already suggested they suck the lard out of his ass while they’re at it.”

“That’s a start.”

“They’ve charged Leo Brakeman.”

He watched her jerk, just a little, then cross over to sit on the side of the bed. “Okay. All right.”

“His rifle, prior threats and the fact he can’t verify his whereabouts for the time of the shooting. He admitted he and his wife had a fight, and he went out to drive around for a couple hours. He’d only just gotten back when the cops showed up at the door.”

“His wife could’ve lied for him.”

“He never asked her to. Some of this came from the cops, some of it’s via Marg. I could separate it out, but being a know-it-all, I figure Marg’s intel is as solid as the cops’.”

“You’d be right.”

“They fought about him coming out here, going off on you. About Dolly in general. I think losing a child either sticks the parents together like cement, or rips them up.”

“My father had a brother. A younger one. You probably know that, too, since you studied Iron Man.”

Gull said nothing, gave her room. “He died when he was three of some weird infection. He’d never been what you’d call robust, and, well, they couldn’t fix it. I guess it cemented my grandparents. Has he admitted it? Brakeman?”

“No. He’s claiming he was driving around, just tooling the backroads, that somebody broke in, took his rifle. Somebody’s framing him. His wife finally convinced him to get a lawyer. They held the bail hearing this morning. She put up their house to post his bond.”

“Jesus.”

“He’s not coming back around here, Ro.”

“That’s not what I mean. She’s dealing with more than anybody should have to deal with, and it just doesn’t feel like any of it’s her doing. I don’t know how she’s standing up to it.”

“She’s dealing with more yet. They identified a man Dolly met at a motel off Twelve the night she died. One she met there a number of times in the past few months. Reverend Latterly.”

“Their pastor? For the love of—” She broke off, slumped back. “Dolly was putting out for her mother’s padre , all the while claiming she’d been washed in the light of the Lord or whatever. It makes sense,” she said immediately. “Now it makes sense. God will provide. That’s what she said to Lynn. Her baby would need a father, and God would provide.”

“I don’t think God had the notion to provide Dolly with a married man who’s already got three kids. He’s denying it, all righteously outraged, and so far, anyway, his wife’s sticking with him. The cops are working on picking that apart.”

“He met her the night she was killed. She wanted a father for her baby, and Dolly always pushed when she wanted something. She pushed, maybe threatened to tell his wife, ruin him with his congregation. And he kills her.”

“Logical,” Gull agreed.

“It still doesn’t explain why he didn’t just leave her, why he took her into the forest, started the fire. But odds are it’s the first time he killed anyone. It’s probably hard to be rational after doing something like that.

“Gull... If he and Dolly were heating the sheets, all this time—and he’s been preaching to Mrs. Brakeman for years—he could’ve gotten into their house.”

She tilted her head. “And you’ve already thought about that.”

“Speculated. I expect he’s had Sunday dinner there a time or two, he and his wife probably brought a covered dish to summer cookouts and so on. Yeah, I think he knew how to get in, and he might’ve known or been able to access the combination to the safe.”

“It would be a way to have the cops looking at Brakeman, and that worked. Maybe have them speculating. This violent man, this man with a violent temper, one who’d already pushed his daughter out of the house once, has been known to have heated arguments with her. It could be.”

“It’s not out of the realm. You lost your mood.”

She smirked, just a little. “Know-it-all. Maybe I was feeling useless again, a comedown from three days when I know everything I did mattered, made a difference, was needed. Then I’m coming back here where I can’t do a damn thing. I can’t be in charge, so I guess it helps some to think it all through, and to figure out what I’d do if I could be in charge. Maybe it helps to talk it through with somebody who understands me.” She smirked again. “At least understands parts of me.”

“You know, I could sit here and look at you all night. All gold and cream and smelling like a summer orchard. It’s a nice way to transition back after an extended attack. But, how about I clean up, and we go get ourselves a late supper?”

“That’s a solid affirmative.”

“Great.” He pushed to his feet. “Can I use your shower?”

She laughed, waved toward the bathroom. Since she had some time she decided to call the other man who understood her.

“Hi, Dad.”

Ella turned when Lucas opened the door to the deck. She’d slipped out when his cell phone rang to give him some privacy for the call, and to admire the fairy lights she’d strung on the slender branches of her weeping plum.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Rowan just wanted to check in, and to update me on what’s going on.”

“Is there anything new?”

“Not really.” As he sipped a glass of the wine they’d enjoyed with dinner, he brushed his fingertips up and down her arm.

She loved the way he touched her—often, like a reassurance she was with him.

“She sounded steady, so I feel better about that. With Ro, when bad things happen, or wrong things, she tends to take it in. What could she have done to prevent it, or what should she do to fix it?”

“I can’t imagine where she gets that from. Who’s been fiddling around here every chance he gets? Fixing the dripping faucet in the laundry room sink, the drawer that kept sticking in that old table I bought at the flea market?”

“I have to pay for all those dinners you cook me. And breakfasts,” he added, gliding his hand down to her waist.

“It’s nice to have a handy man around the house.”

“It’s nice to be around the house, with you.” He hooked his arm around her waist so they looked out at the garden together, at the pretty lights, the soft shadows. “It’s nice to be with you.”

“I’m happy,” she told him. “I tend to be a happy person, and I learned how to be happy on my own. It was good for me, to have that time, to find out a little bit more about myself. What I could do, what I could do without. I’m happier with you.”

She hooked an arm around his waist in turn. “I was standing here before you came out thinking how lucky I am. I’ve got a family I love and who loves me, a career I’m proud of, this place, good friends. Now the bonus round. You.”