Melting Point. Debra Cowan

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Terra said when Kiley reached her. “It’s lucky the next warehouse is at least three hundred feet away or this whole side of the street might’ve gone up.”

      It appeared this fire, like the others, had been set to lure the firefighters here and kill one of them, but they needed proof. “Did you see anything that hinted at arson?”

      “Not yet. The window was blown out from the inside, probably from heat, but that doesn’t mean we’re looking at arson.” She glanced at Kiley’s feet. “Good, you have on some of our boots. You need a helmet, too.”

      “Is there falling debris?”

      “We want to be prepared.”

      Kiley took a helmet from the firefighter who held one out at Terra’s request and slid it onto her head.

      Collier McClain stood silently to the side. He had cleaned the ash from his face, but there was strain around his gray-green eyes and the same guardedness she hoped he saw in her eyes. She shut off further thoughts of him and followed Terra inside the cavernous concrete and metal building. It smelled of burned coffee, wet ash and the searing odor of charred insulation and chemicals. Light glanced off white burlap bags of coffee stacked on row after row of wooden pallets.

      Strong light streamed from the portable floodlamps, and Kiley stopped, taking a quick look around the soaked floor, wet wooden pallets stacked with now-sopping white bags of coffee.

      “I bagged the padlock so we can check it for prints.”

      Startled to hear McClain’s voice, Kiley spun. “What are you doing?”

      He frowned. “Going through the building.”

      “Why?”

      “He’s my new fire investigator,” Terra said absently. “You know he’s been working with me on his days off. For about the last year and a half.”

      “Yes, but he fought this fire.” She looked away from his level gaze, wishing she’d had a little warning about his more significant involvement in the investigation. She’d known their working together would happen eventually, but she wasn’t ready. “How can he investigate and work the scene as a firefighter?”

      “It’s happened before. Besides, this is his last shift. When he reports to work on Monday, it will be for me.”

      Kiley knew displeasure and sheer panic showed on her face.

      “What’s going on, Kiley?” Terra looked slightly irritated.

      “I…just didn’t expect him to also investigate.”

      “Is he a suspect?” Collier asked tightly.

      “No.” Curling her hands into fists at her sides, her gaze shot to Terra. “This isn’t a conflict of interest?”

      “No.” The other woman glanced at Collier then back at Kiley.

      “Can you handle it, Detective?” His smoke-roughened voice challenged her.

      She wasn’t about to let him see how off balance she really felt. She flashed a smile at Terra. “Let’s go. I’ll try to keep up.”

      “Whew, good. I’m going on maternity leave in two weeks. I want Collier to know everything I know about this scene.”

      “Is he going to take over this case?” Had she just squeaked?

      “Unless we clear it before I have this baby, and I don’t foresee that. So, you’ll have to partner up.”

      Kiley gave a forced smile, avoiding Collier’s gaze.

      “Let’s get started, then,” Terra said.

      The three of them began a slow walk, sloshing through dark water, with Collier beside Terra and Kiley slightly behind. Her eyes narrowed on his broad shoulders. Collier McClain wasn’t just Presley’s newest fire investigator, and her partner for the time being. He was the one man she’d sworn to avoid like the Ebola virus.

      Chapter 2

      Collier had wanted to be first on the nozzle tonight, but nothing about this call had gone the way he’d wanted. Not what had happened to Lazano. And not seeing Kiley Russell.

      Collier hadn’t allowed himself to think about her since that Christmas party at the FOP club. Then tonight, on the second day of the new year, she’d burst in front of him like a firecracker.

      In the month since meeting her, he hadn’t forgotten the curve of her hip beneath his palm as they’d danced. Or the warm, spicy fragrance of fresh woman and body heat.

      Kiley Russell wasn’t conventionally beautiful like Gwen, but he wasn’t the only man who couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her tangle of red hair hinted at a wildness that was banked in her eyes. Creamy skin and rosy cheeks gave her a fresh-faced appeal that invited people to like her even though Collier sensed that if she decided to seduce a man, those stunning blue-green eyes could knock him clear into next week.

      What really had Collier’s internal alarm screaming was the memory of Detective Russell’s laugh. Low and smoky, the sound had grabbed at something deep inside, telling him that his attraction to her was more than physical. He’d managed to bury all that over the holidays, but seeing her now brought the memories bubbling to the surface. Memories he had no intention of giving free rein.

      In the year and a half since he’d called off his engagement to Gwen, Collier hadn’t regretted his new no-strings policy with women. He didn’t like that Kiley Russell was the first woman to make him think about breaking it. Liked even less that his thoughts were on her instead of the crime scene in which they stood.

      “Since we can’t take measurements of the body’s original position,” Terra said, “we’ll have to rely on the Rapid Intervention Team and any other eyewitness accounts to determine where Lazano fell.”

      Kiley stepped up, pointing to a spot in front of the open doorway. “The RIT put Lazano here.”

      “That’s right. And so did the attack crew who took over for me and Lazano.” Collier turned, his gaze skipping over the puddles of black water on Benson Street. “The shot came from behind. Probably from that warehouse across the street.”

      Kiley made a note in her notebook.

      Standing on the edge of the bright light thrown by the portable floodlamps, Collier walked to the bloodstain barely visible on the wet concrete and dictated the location into Terra’s handheld tape recorder.

      “I’m surprised all the blood wasn’t washed away,” Kiley observed, following the other woman into the warehouse. “I guess it would be too much to hope we might get some prints off this door? I’m guessing the firefighters probably blasted them off with their hoses.”

      “We’re trained to put out the fire, which means we can’t really worry about preserving evidence,” Collier said from behind her. “To put out a blaze, you’ve got to chop holes in the roof, tear down walls, kick out windows plus soak everything in thousands of gallons of water. Even so, we’re trained not to get carried away with our water streams. We douse the flames and make sure they don’t rekindle. And

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