Debra Cowan - Melting Point

“So it’s not a stretch to imagine this guy could’ve killed her in her garage and killed Lazano tonight.”

“No, and he was plenty hot about the guys paying him a visit. That could be motive for Miller’s and Huffman’s murders.”

Kiley nodded. “In our interviews with him right after Lisa’s murder, Alan said he had never owned a gun and didn’t know how to shoot.”

“No one’s disputed that so far.” Collier shoved a hand through his hair. “So I’d say we still consider that he hired the murderer.”

“I agree. Since he works for the city as an electrician, he’d certainly have the know-how to screw with a security system. He could get into the building, start a fire and let the sniper do the rest.”

“Yeah, talking to him is definitely on our to-do list.”

“I tried to see him yesterday, but he wasn’t at home or work.” Kiley’s next step was talking to McClain’s ex-fiancée, but she didn’t want him around for that, since his name would likely come up.

She was too aware of the fresh-showered scent of him, the underlying tension between them that went back to that dance at the Christmas party. “I’m anxious to see what you found on the video. Maybe we can watch it now, then again when Terra gets here?”

“All right.” His quick agreement was the first sign she’d had that he might be just as antsy as she was. “You’ve seen the videos of the other fire murder scenes, right?”

“Yes.” Kiley took a seat on the end of the sofa. Across from her, a burning log crackled in the fireplace, and warmth from the flames reached across the floor. The television sat on the adjacent wall, facing the end of the room where Collier stood. “I know y’all video most of your fires.”

He nodded. “We use them to train others in investigation and also to keep the chain of evidence in our control. That way it can’t be tampered with.”

He eased down into the chair closest to her, then picked up the remote and turned on the television and VCR.

The picture flickered to life, and they watched grayish-brown smoke plume out of the side windows of the coffee warehouse. The camera picked up the occasional orange flame shooting through the smoky wall. A firefighter, unrecognizable because of his hood and helmet, rushed forward with the nozzle.

“That’s Lazano,” Collier said quietly.

A second firefighter appeared behind him in the frame. “You?”

“Yeah.” Maybe a second later the sharp crack of a gunshot rang out. Lazano went down.

Collier hit the ground and vanished out of the frame. The shouted “Mayday! Firefighter down!” was muffled but audible. A pair of firefighters—the Rapid Intervention Team—rushed into the picture, bending low then straightening to drag Lazano away from the flames. Another two-man team rushed toward the building with a hose gushing water. There were no more pictures of Collier and the victim.

For several minutes the camera stayed focused on the fire, catching the sounds of thundering water, yelling voices, sirens in the distance. Flames crackled and hissed in the background. The firefighters moved in smooth synchronization. After the blaze was out, the camera panned the perimeter of the building, down the west side of the driveway to the street and across three fire engines.

Kiley wondered what Collier was thinking. Despite what had happened between the two men, watching a brother firefighter die in front of him had to be hard.

He paused the tape. “Right there.”

She leaned forward, studying the frame. “Ladder truck, hoses, hydrant, fireman.”

“Since he isn’t wearing a hood or a helmet, I can see his face. That guy isn’t a firefighter. At least not from here.”

“What?” Kiley dragged her hair over her shoulder with one hand as she scrutinized the screen.

“I know almost every firefighter in Presley, and I’ve never seen this guy.”

“Really?” She got that little head rush she always did when she got a good lead.

“I went back over the tapes from the three previous fire scenes and I didn’t see him in any of them. There’s an unidentified male in the first tape, but Terra already tried to have that enhanced. The tech couldn’t get a clear shot of the person.”

“But we have a clear shot of this guy.” Kiley rose, excited. “This is the first lead we’ve had on this murder, McClain. Good job.”

“All I did was look at the video,” he said wryly, stopping the tape.

“But you picked up on the man. I wouldn’t have. That’s why it’s such a good idea to have guns and hoses working these cases together.”

“Guns and hoses? You’re a piece of work, Russell.” He chuckled at her slang for cops and firefighters as he stood and started into the kitchen. “I’m going to call Terra again. You want something to drink?”

“Sure.” She followed him. “We need to get a photograph made from the video. The police lab can do it if you don’t have the equipment.”

“That’s where I’d take it, too.” Grabbing a cordless phone from its spot on the wall, he punched in a number and waited for several seconds, then hung up. “Still no answer on her cell. I’ll try her house.”

There was no answer there, either.

“Maybe she and Jack are out to dinner.” Kiley traced his steps to the refrigerator, leaning a hip against the counter that butted up to it. “We can show the picture to the other firefighters and anyone else at the scene.”

He nodded, opened the fridge, bent down to grab a cola and handed it to her.

She leaned forward, taking the chilled can. “We’ll need to check mug shots, too. And maybe the enlarged picture will show if the guy has a tattoo or any other distinguishing marks. If he does, we can have Crime Analysis check the field interview cards for any matching descriptions.”

“I’ll touch base with all the station houses and see if anyone has reported any stolen gear.” Collier straightened and stepped away from the fridge at the same time she popped the top on her soda can. His elbow banged her forearm, jostling her drink.

They both grabbed for the can, their combined grips crushing the tin and spewing soda all over her front and down her arm.

Collier quickly reached behind her and tossed her a towel. “Sorry.”

“No problem. I was in the way.” She blotted the front of her sweater then the sleeve and her hand. Facing the sink, she set down the towel and her drink, then turned on the faucet and put her sticky hands under the water.

“You missed some.”

“Where—” She broke off, jolted by the sudden feel of his big hand settling hotly on her hip. He reached toward her with the towel. With one knuckle, he angled her head and dabbed at the underside of her jaw.

She froze. They hadn’t been this close since the FOP Christmas party. She could feel the heat of his body and his subtle woodsy scent drift into her lungs. His lean thigh brushed hers, but it was the hand on her hip that shocked all her nerve endings. His fingers splayed low on her back, right where her hip curved into her bottom. He’d held her the same way while they danced. The memory was so vivid she could almost feel the provocative friction of his body moving against hers.

“Got it.” His voice curled around her with just an edge of seduction.

The low, sexy drawl was the same she’d heard that night, too. And her body did that same melt-in-the-center thing. The realization forced some energy through her dazed limbs. She turned off the faucet and plucked the towel out of his hand, drying her hands as she walked away. “Thanks.”

No way was she going all soft around him. She didn’t care how good he sounded. Or looked. Or felt.

Just then the phone rang. Collier crossed to the wall and picked it up. His side of the conversation consisted of “oh” and “yeah” and “okay.” She tried to read his face and determine if he was talking about the case.