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Feeling that things were under control, Mallory was about to give up her post. But before she turned off her hose, she spied a new spot fire igniting some dry grass dangerously close to the shop. With hose still in hand, she dashed toward it, spraying the flames. But while she was running, she felt a heavy thud from behind, as if she was being tackled—and then she was pinned facedown on the muddy ground, a heavy figure on top of her.
With the wind knocked out of her, her heart pounded in fear. Certain it was the killer, about to put his knife to her throat, she tried to get enough breath to let out a scream, but all she could do was gasp for air—and pray for help!
TWO (#ulink_a7e2a938-d49e-56db-85c9-ce4e1e501b96)
Logan McDaniel had spotted the figure near the garage as soon as he’d come down the driveway. The youth was dressed in a letterman jacket and ball cap, and as soon as Logan approached, the kid took off running. Naturally, Logan chased him down, jumped him from behind and pinned him to the ground. Fortunately he was a lightweight and, despite the flailing arms and legs, it wasn’t hard to keep the kid pinned down while Logan got out his flashlight. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to use it as a weapon.
Using one arm, he flipped his captive over, shining the light straight into the kid’s face. It wasn’t a guy after all. It was a girl, and as the ball cap fell off, he could see that she had long dark hair.
“Help!” she screamed loudly, as if she thought he was some kind of an assailant. “Let me go! Help! Help!”
Still trying to get his bearings, he released her arms but kept her pinned down with the weight of his legs.
“Get off me!” She flailed at him. “Let me—”
“What are you doing here?” He moved side to side to dodge her blows. “You’re a girl.”
“Yes,” she growled back. “Get off of me, you big lug!”
“First you better tell me what you’re doing out here.”
“I live here,” she shouted angrily.
“No, you don’t,” he told her. “Deputy Myers and his—”
“The Myers are my parents! This is their house and I am—”
“Mallory?” As the realization hit him, he instantly eased back and, slowly standing, reached down to help her to her feet. “Is it really you?”
“Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?” She wiped the mud away from her mouth, glaring at him with fury in her dark eyes.
“What are you doing out here?” He reached over to wipe a chunk of mud from her cheek, trying not to smile at how cute she looked. But she just shoved his hand away, scowling at him with suspicious eyes. She obviously didn’t recognize him.
“Trying to put out this stupid fire,” she spat.
“Did you start it?”
“Of course not!” She glared at him. “Are you nuts?”
“Did you make the 911 call?”
“Yes. Are you going to help put that thing out, or do you plan to just stand here yapping at me?” She pointed to an outbuilding. “My dad’s shop could’ve blown sky high by now.”
“My crew is on it,” he assured her. “Don’t worry. The fire’s not too big. But good thing you called when you did. They’ll have it under control soon.”
She seemed to be studying him now, as if he looked familiar, but she wasn’t really getting it. And he knew the yellow fire chief’s helmet worn low on his head, plus the heavy clothes, made it hard to recognize him. Not to mention that their paths hadn’t crossed in years. Although he wished they had. She leaned forward now, peering curiously at him. “Do I know you?” she finally asked.
“It’s been a while, but yeah, you know me. At least you used to know me.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers. “Logan McDaniel, at your service.”
She blinked, then stared even harder at him. “Logan?”
“Yep.” He glanced over his shoulder where several of the firefighters, some with hoses and some with shovels, were working their way toward them. “Looks like they’re making good progress already. Probably have it contained before sunrise. Less than two acres I’d estimate. Small potatoes compared to last—”
“Well, it might be small, but it would’ve grown—”
“Hey, don’t get me wrong, Mallory. Any fire is a serious fire. And I’m relieved it was small. And glad to jump on it early.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry about tackling you like that.”
She frowned at him. “Yeah, what’s the deal? I thought firefighters were supposed to help people—not take them out.”
“I’m really sorry.” He pointed to the letterman jacket and the ball cap. “But dressed that way—I thought you were a teenage boy. I mean, there you are with a fire blazing nearby...” He held out his hands. “I approach you, and you take off running. What was I supposed to think?”
“I was running to put out that spot fire.” She pointed to where the charred grass was still smoldering. Logan went over to stomp on it, crushing it out with his boot then dousing it liberally with a nearby garden hose.
“Well, I hope you accept my sincere apology, Mallory. We’ve had a serious problem with arsonists lately. Some tips have suggested they’re teens. Last Saturday we had a human-caused fire that grew to nearly two hundred acres before our crew arrived.”
“You really think kids set this fire, too?” She seemed to be studying him closely now. “I mean...you’re certain it wasn’t, uh, set by someone else?”
“What do you mean by someone else?” He peered curiously back at her. “Do you know something...?”
“No, of course not.” She bit her bottom lip and glanced away, as if she was sorry she’d said anything. Or as if she was holding something back.
“If you know something, you should tell me,” he urged. “Mallory?” he persisted. “What’s going on?”
He could tell by her face that something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Was it related to the fire? Did she have anything to do with it? As fire chief it was his job to investigate—and to be impartial. But he couldn’t believe that Mallory Myers would have any sort of criminal involvement. Besides, this was her parents’ home. Not that all family relationships were harmonious. “Do you know something about this fire?” he asked her again, using a firmer voice this time.
“Oh...no, I don’t really know anything.” It seemed as if she was trying to sound nonchalant. “I mean I just smelled smoke. I looked outside and saw flames and called 911. That’s all.”
Logan narrowed his eyes, studying her. Something about her story didn’t ring true. And that bothered him. A lot. “Well, my guess is that this was a man-made fire,” he told her. “We haven’t had a lightning strike in a few weeks. And as far as I know, no strikes in these parts. Anyway, we’ll know better when the sun comes up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go give my crew a hand. I’d like to get this wrapped up as soon as possible. Just in case we get another call.”
“Yeah, sure, of course.” She nodded in what seemed like relief and, stepping back, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She looked so sweet and vulnerable just now—dressed in those clothes with mud on her face, her dark hair glowing in the firelight. And yet she was acting so strangely...as if she were somehow involved in the fire. Logan felt confused...and conflicted. And those were not the sort of feelings that a fire chief, especially a relatively young one, liked to experience.
“You probably want to go in and clean yourself up,” he told her in a brusque tone.
She looked down at her muddy clothes and nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.”
As she walked toward the house, Logan just watched, dumbfounded. What was going on here? Why was Mallory at her parents’ home when he knew they were on vacation? Why was she dressed like that? And what was she doing outside while there was what appeared to be an arsonist-set blaze going? What was going on?
Logan shook his head as he went to rejoin his crew. As happy as he was to see Mallory again—although he did regret tackling her—he felt torn. Something weird was going on here, and before this night was over, he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
“Doing some mud wrestling over there?” Winnie Halston teased him as she turned a shovelful of dirt over. Logan liked Winnie and appreciated that she worked as hard as any of the guys, but sometimes she got a little too friendly with him. It often felt like a tightrope walk to keep a professional distance, yet at the same time remain congenial and supportive as her boss. Sometimes he just wished she’d find another job.
Logan chuckled as he picked up a shovel. “Yeah, I guess it probably looked like that.”
“Who was the kid you took down?” she asked as she shoved her spade into the soft soil. “And why isn’t he in custody now?”
“The kid was a woman. Deputy Myers’s daughter.”
Winnie’s brow creased with suspicion. “Do you think she set the fire?”
“According to her, she was simply trying to help extinguish it.” He started to dig, helping to expand the fire line. He didn’t really have to do the hard labor anymore, but it seemed to boost team morale to see him doing some of the grunge work alongside them. And since this was a small fire and not really in need of much managerial supervision, there was no reason not to help out. Besides, he felt guilty for ignoring Winnie a little too much this week. Such a fine line between sending a message and being just plain rude.
“So, what’s this girl’s name?” Winnie’s voice had a twinge of jealousy.
“Mallory,” he said in a flat tone.
“And you know for sure that she’s really the Myers’s daughter? I mean, isn’t Deputy Myers on vacation? What’s this chick doing out here all by herself while her daddy’s gone? Sounds a little fishy, if you ask me.”
“I know she’s Deputy Myers’s daughter because I went to school with her,” he said wryly. “She was a couple years behind me.”
“Fine. But how do you know she’s not a suspect?” Winnie persisted. “This girl could be angry at her parents...maybe she gets even by torching their place while they’re gone. Most violent crimes are committed by people known to the victims. Suspects are usually family or friends...”
“Been watching CSI again?”
“Just reruns.” She smiled slyly. “A girl’s gotta do something on a lonely night.”
“Well, I’m relatively certain that Mallory Myers had nothing to do with this fire,” he assured her. “As a matter of fact, she was the one to call 911, and when I tackled her she was actually just trying to hose down a spot fire to protect her dad’s shop. Does that sound like a crazed arsonist to you?”
“You never know.” She frowned. “What about that getup she had on? I saw her. Looked like she was trying to disguise herself as a kid. Maybe to make it appear this was part of the teen group you’ve been tracking. Suspicious.”
He shrugged as he turned a shovelful of dirt over. He knew this was nonsense, but didn’t want to argue the point. “Maybe you’re in the wrong line of work,” he said. “Instead of being a firefighter, you should be working for the sheriff’s department.” He chuckled, but he wasn’t really kidding. Everyone knew that Winnie loved putting her nose in everyone else’s business.
“I’m just saying it’s curious how this woman’s out here by herself while her parents are off on vacation,” she continued. “Just because you went to school with her doesn’t mean she had nothing to do with this fire. And everyone knows we haven’t had lightning in weeks. So you know it’s gotta be human caused.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Winnie.” He decided to insert some cool authority into his tone. Time for her to back off and focus on her work. Without engaging further, Logan set his shovel back in his truck then went over to give TJ a hand with unloading another hose from the water truck.
“What happened to that kid you stopped?” TJ asked as they maneuvered the hose toward the south side of the fire line, generously soaking the smoldering embers.
For the second time tonight Logan explained the little mix-up. But he didn’t mind telling TJ. Besides the fact that TJ was his best friend, they’d gone to school together and Logan was pretty sure TJ would remember Mallory, too.
“No kidding? That was Mallory Myers?”
“Yep.”
TJ laughed. “How’d she take that?”
“Pretty furious.”
“Yeah, but as I recall Mallory was always a good sport.” TJ chuckled.
“Hopefully she still is.” Logan hefted the hose closer to the fire. The truth was, he’d always liked Mallory. More than once he’d considered asking her out. But something...or someone...always seemed to get in the way.
He wondered if that would still be the situation. Was Mallory in some kind of committed relationship? And even if she wasn’t, what would be the point in pursuing her now? She lived in the city, he lived here. Besides that, something about her wasn’t sitting right with him. The girl had troubles. He could almost smell it.
Logan worked with TJ for nearly an hour, but it was obvious that the fire was well under control and there was little need for Logan to remain on the line. Except that he was still mulling over some things.
“Is Mallory still good-looking?” TJ suddenly asked Logan.
“Kind of hard to tell with all that mud on her face.” Logan chuckled as he leaned his shovel against a tree. No way was he going to tell TJ that she was even more beautiful now than he remembered her being back in high school.
“Never really told anyone, but I used to kind of have a thing for her,” TJ admitted.
“Really?” Logan felt a small pang of jealous concern. “I never knew that.”
“Well, I didn’t go around advertising it.” TJ grinned. “And you remember how shy I was in high school. Could barely speak to a girl.” He punched Logan in the arm. “Not like you, Romeo. You always had girls hanging all over you.” TJ nodded over to where Winnie was still shoveling. “Which reminds me. Winnie’s been asking around about whether you’re mad at her about something. Saw you two talking just now. Everything okay?”
Logan blew out a slow breath. “Yeah, sure.”
“I know she rubs you the wrong way, but she’s really not so bad. Once you get to know her better.”
“I think you’re the one who needs to get to know Winnie better,” Logan teased.
TJ’s grin faded and Logan waved a hand. “Better get your mind off the women and back on your work, TJ.”
TJ gave him a mock salute. “Yeah, boss.”
Logan saluted back as he informed TJ that he was going to check the line. It wasn’t that he was mad at TJ, but he didn’t appreciate his friend’s “helpful advice.” It was clear that TJ was using Winnie as a smoke screen, probably a distraction from Mallory. Like TJ thought Logan was about to sweep Mallory off her feet. Although he had just knocked her off her feet. But seriously, neither of them would have a chance with Mallory Myers.
Besides having grown into her good looks, Mallory was a big-city girl now—a successful news writer for the Channel Six News, no less. Logan had heard Deputy Myers bragging about how his little girl had gone from being an intern to becoming the youngest journalist, at the age of twenty-three, for the prestigious Portland news show. And hadn’t she been dating someone of influence, too? Clear signs she was out of their league.
As Logan walked, he considered his own limited history with Mallory. She’d been a year behind him in school, but he’d always thought she seemed like a sweet girl. Very pretty, with her shiny dark hair and big brown eyes. And smart, too. She was in his history class and outshone most of the seniors. Maybe that’s why she’d caught his eye during his last year of high school. And during the following summer, when she coached his kid sister’s lacrosse team, Logan went out of his way to be friendly to her every time he picked up Selma. But Mallory just blew him off. And Logan wasn’t used to having a girl treat him like that. Eventually he’d just given up. It wasn’t meant to be.
Ironically, he’d probably had his longest conversation with her tonight—after he’d tackled her. Maybe he needed to change his routine—some guys knocked ’em over with their charm, he could just knock them down. He chuckled as he kicked into a smoldering pile of dirt, pausing to give it some turns with his shovel. Not that he’d been looking for girlfriends much this past year. Getting appointed to chief had seemed to put the kibosh on his personal life.
But something about Mallory had really caught him off guard tonight. And it wasn’t just because he felt guilty for knocking her down. No, there was something in her eyes that suggested all was not well. Something in her demeanor had reeled him in. So much so that he felt like stepping up to protect her. But protect her from what? The fire would be out before long, and he didn’t really think her troubles were related to that anyway. At least, he hoped they weren’t. Surely she wasn’t an arsonist, as Winnie had suggested, here to sabotage her parents in their absence. That was just plain dumb. And yet he had to admit that Mallory’s responses to his questions about the fire had sounded a bit like doubletalk. That wasn’t good.
But it did give him a legitimate excuse to resume his conversation with her. After all, it was his job to collect information related to the fire, and his gut feeling had been that she was holding out on him. Something was troubling her. Unless he was mistaken, it was something pretty serious. And before he left this place, he wanted to get to the bottom of it.
THREE (#ulink_79fc6926-1fa3-50e3-b58a-edc1f2e2314e)
As she took a quick shower—the first one she’d had since Kestra’s murder—she couldn’t keep her mind from replaying the events of the past few days. Would she always be haunted by fear? Mallory hurried to redress in the same work outfit she’d worn the past two days. It was what she used to call one of her “grown-up” ensembles, part of a limited wardrobe her mother had helped her to acquire when she’d gotten hired as an intern for the Channel Six News. “Dress for the job you want,” Mom had wisely advised. Mallory had done so...and she’d eventually landed a fantastic job...but where had it gotten her?
She frowned at her pathetic reflection. A worn-out looking brunette in a rumpled linen suit and a pale green blouse that was anything but fresh. As she pinned her still-damp hair into a messy bun, she wondered why she’d told Mom to donate her old clothes to the resell shop last spring. Did she really think she’d never need her small-town wardrobe again? Plaid shirts and denim jackets were suddenly appealing. Comfortable and practical and much better than a bright orange jumpsuit. Not that she’d done anything criminal, although everyone seemed determined to pin something on her. Even when she’d told Detective Doyle she wanted to go home, she’d been warned not to leave the state.
Curious about the state of the fire, she went back outside to check. Although it was barely five, the western horizon was gray with morning light—and she still hadn’t slept a wink. And felt pretty sure she couldn’t sleep now. Or ever. A dozen or so firefighters were still at work and although there were various chimneys of smoldering smoke, no flames were visible. Mallory sat down in a front porch wicker rocker, staring down at a large metal pot of pale pink geraniums and trying to remember a time when life had been good. But nothing came to her. All she felt was a bone-deep sort of numbness.
She considered calling her dad. Chances were they’d reached Iowa by now—unless they were still on their way. But she had a feeling that if she heard his voice she would fall apart—and he would turn around and come back home again. Of course, that’s what she wanted...but she knew it was selfish. Her parents rarely took real vacations, rarely traveled anywhere outside of the state. And as soon as they found out about all of this...first Kestra...then this fire...well, she knew that would be the end of their big trip.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up to see Logan McDaniel strolling purposefully toward her. To her surprise, her spirits lifted ever so slightly as she watched him approach. It was as if his mere presence breathed a spark of life back into her. Or maybe it was hope. Whatever the case, she was grateful.
It was interesting to see him by the light of day. Still as tall as she remembered from high school, he appeared a little more filled out now. Dressed in his firefighter gear, he looked ruggedly handsome, and his long slow stride suggested a steady sort of confidence. This man was comfortable in his own skin. While a part of her admired this trait, another part of her was disturbed by it. It was this same quality that had first drawn her to Brock and a frightened little voice inside her head warned her to watch out.
“It’s a hundred percent contained,” Logan announced as he came up to the porch. Leaning against a post he peered down at her. “It should be completely out in a couple of hours.”
“That’s great news.” She forced an uneasy smile. “Thanks.”
“Just doing my job.” He gave her a handsome grin, revealing even white teeth. “You clean up nicely.”
“Thanks.” She slowly stood, folding her arms in front of her.
