Ginny Aiken - Someone to Trust

Of course, Wilma could have started storing things in the basement after taking over the theater. Nothing fed a fire better than piles of junk. But the thought of Wilma—the original minimalist who’d lived most of her adult years out of a backpack—storing junk was almost laughable.

Rand’s gut told him there was more to that fire than just fire. While common sense reminded him of the building’s age and dry condition, years of fighting and investigating fires had left him with a good nose for trouble.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. Cate walked into the waiting room. Before he could stop himself, he asked. “Where are the kids?”

“The kids? You mean the twins and Lindsay?”

“Of course. I hope you didn’t just run out on them.”

Her brows drew close and her lips tightened. “I’d never leave three little kids alone. No matter how scared I was about Dad. Miss Tabitha’s with them.”

“They’ll be scared about their grandfather, don’t you think?”

“Once I hear how he’s doing, I’ll go home and make sure they know he’s going to…going to be okay.”

The wobble in Cate’s voice told him how scared she was. Sympathy again filled him, but before he could say anything, she went on.

“You didn’t really expect me to stay tucked under my blanket while Dad’s life was on the line, did you?”

The shine of tears brightened her chocolate eyes. Maybe he’d been too hard on her. He knew she loved her father. And Joe had told Rand a number of times how much Cate had changed, how responsible she was.

She probably also loved her niece and nephews and Rand was glad to know she’d arranged for Miss Tabitha, one of Loganton’s true pillars, to stay with the youngsters. But as wonderful as Miss Tabitha was, she was quite an elderly woman. Was she up to watching two ten-year-old boys? An eight-year-old girl?

Now that Joe Caldwell was injured, Rand would have to make sure the kids didn’t lack supervision. He owed as much to their late father, his older cousin Ross. In the interest of keeping peace, he decided not to say anything more to Cate about the kids. He’d just do what he thought best for them.

Rand hadn’t had much contact with them while he worked in Charlotte, but with Joe as their guardian, he knew they’d been in good hands. But now? Rand wasn’t about to just leave them in Cate’s care without at least checking up on their well-being.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” she said in the growing silence.

Rand shrugged. “The blaze is under control and the guys can finish up. I’m sure you know we have to wait for things to cool down before we can start looking for answers.” He shot a glance toward the large double doors to the ER. “The Tuckers are like family to me. I want to know how Wilma’s doing before I go out to the Pines to tell her folks.”

She arched a brow. “You’re going to tell them? I would have thought the new police chief would do that.”

“I told Neal to let the PD know I wanted to be the one to talk to them. I don’t want to see any more of the Tuckers in the hospital. It’s going to hit them hard, and if Chief Rodgers just shows up, it could make things worse.”

In a gesture full of exhaustion, Cate tipped her head back against her chair, her eyes closed but her features tense. “You might still want to take Ethan Rodgers with you when you go talk to them. After what happened tonight, I suspect they’re going to see a lot of him in his official capacity during the next few weeks.”

His gut tightened and he knew his initial instinct had been right on target. “What’s going on?”

Through half-closed eyelids, she gave him a long, measuring look. “Ethan’s going to need your help.”

Rand leaned forward, hands itching with the surge of adrenaline he always felt when a hunch paid off. “What kind of help?”

“Professional.” She sat up, shoved a hand through the thick mane of hot cocoa-brown waves. “Dad says it wasn’t just a fire. He says a meth lab blew up.”

Nose for trouble? His was dead on.

From the moment he’d arrived at the theater, his instincts had begun to alert him and not just to the scent of crime. They had tipped him off to something he hadn’t expected. He’d come home looking for a more peaceful, less stressful work environment. As an arson investigator, he’d had his fill of arsonists, a unique kind of thief and killer who took pleasure from the destruction they caused. And now, after the first serious fire he worked for the Loganton Fire Department, it turned out the thrill of the hunt still gave him a charge.

He stood. “Meth’s a killer—in more ways than one. Any idea who might be behind it?”

She shook her head and arched her brow. “Here I thought the answer to that question was what an arson investigation was all about.”

He conceded her point with a nod. Then he spun and headed out to find his answer. His mind whirled with the new information. What Cate had just told him colored the fire at the theater in a whole different palette.

There was a killer out there. He hadn’t killed Joe or Wilma, but anyone who cooked meth had blood on his hands, the blood of those he had hooked.

Rand realized he would have missed solving arson cases had there really been a difference between a small town and a large city. But people were people. A kaleidoscope of memories swirled through his head. Loss, injury, death—and the cesspool where arsonists lived and where he’d had to swim all those years to catch them. And yet, here he was, treading that same water again.

The constant contact with the worst side of society had nearly stolen every last drop of humanity he’d possessed. That’s why he’d come home…

…never thinking he’d wind up right back in the thick of it.

At six the next morning, Zoe Donovan, Cate’s best friend since kindergarten, finished her shift at the hospital blood lab. She marched right up to the ICU and insisted Cate leave with her. Cate tried to argue.

Zoe countered. “I’m not listening. The kids will be up any minute now and you know they’re going to squabble. Think of poor Miss Tabitha, all alone with the three darlings.”

Cate glared. “They do go at it with all the gusto of sibling rivalry, but Miss Tabitha is wonderful with them and I just checked in with her forty-five minutes ago. She said she had everything under control and I shouldn’t worry. She’s such a sweetheart. They’re always on their best behavior for her. This is Dad—”

“And he would want you home. His medical team’s fabulous—you know he’s in excellent hands. Tell me I’m wrong. Go on.” The light of challenge shone in her green eyes. “Besides, just think of all the times you and your dad have had to referee the trio just to wind up with something that might remind you of peace.”

“Fine. I’m a realist. They’re wonderful individuals, but perfect? Uh-uh. Especially not during the morning routine.”

Cate tugged her jacket tighter around her middle when they stepped out into the cold fall morning. “So how am I going to tell them their gramps is in critical condition? They’ve already gone through so much. First they lost their parents, then their grandmother three years later. Now this.”

“The Lord will find a way—or in this case, a word. Ask Him. He won’t let you down.”

“But this is Dad.” She closed her eyes, shook her head, took a breath. “The kids are little and he’s the only stability they’ve ever known.”

“That’s probably why he asked you to move back in a couple of years ago.”

Cate snorted. “You know he doesn’t need my help. And all that babble about my youth helping him parent them better than he would alone is just that: babble.”