knew Brandt best. Other than a quick introductory hello to the two that night and a few others when she’d taken a tour of the station as part of her final interview, he was the only one she knew.
Other than Reese, of course.
“He did.”
Right. Which was why he’d been shocked to see her that night. And not pleasantly so.
Not that she’d expected he would be pleased. The fact that he’d agreed to her hire without having it out with her had shocked her. It was a part of the plan that had gone far better than anything she’d imagined.
Now she knew why.
“You gave him my whole file. With the photo and all?”
“I put it on his desk. But he likes me to pull out the credential and experience sheet and attach it to the top. I’m the one in charge of hiring. He trusts me to do my job.”
Now she was pissing off the one guy who actually liked her.
Reese had every reason to hate her. And those were the reasons he knew about. She now suspected there could be one more. Worse than the others.
He’d only seen her credentials. All earned and issued under the name Faye Walker, EMT. He’d known Faye Browning, studying to be an RN.
“Don’t worry if you think he didn’t like you,” Brandt said as they reached cement and he stomped the sand off his boots. “It’s not you he was pissed at.”
Oh, she was pretty sure it was.
But, until Reese said differently, she had to make certain that no one knew she’d ever known him.
If her plan was going to work—and it had to—she had to let her ex-lover call the shots. Until her son had time to heal and she had answers. Then she’d be back in charge. And could take Elliott and quietly slip away.
“How can you be so sure he didn’t take an instant dislike to me?” she asked. Because it seemed like something she might have asked if she’d never met the boss before.
They were at the truck and Brandt stripped off the top half of his gear. The others were still several yards behind.
“Because I know why he was pissed and it didn’t have anything to do with you.”
She frowned. Completely sure Brandt was wrong, but curious about why he thought he was right.
“Why was he pissed?”
“Because he gave the paramedic you’re covering for a second chance and the guy blew it.”
It was the best news she’d heard in a while.
Nodding, she climbed up into the truck. Buckled herself in. And allowed herself to take a deep breath.
Reese Bristow had not only become the fire investigator and chief he’d always said he’d be, but he’d grown into a man who gave second chances.
Her plan might just work out fine after all.
THE SCOPE OF the fire was a ten-yard diameter. Ashes composed one yard of that. The rest of the fire had been caused by a burn-off of gasoline. The fuel stopped just a few feet from a dry field leading directly to an abandoned house. Given the abandoned home’s distance from other residences on the private beach, it was likely no one would have been hurt, but considerable damage might have been done.
The first fire, set almost a month ago, had been a three-yard diameter. Set down by the water. The arsonist had only been testing his tools then.
What Reese didn’t yet know was why. How. Or who.
What he really didn’t understand was what in the hell Faye Browning...Walker...was doing working for his department. Or in Santa Raquel, period.
He measured. Took notes.
She hadn’t been surprised to see him. She’d been surprised that he’d been surprised to see her.
What was it she’d said? “I thought you’d at least call.”
Why in the hell would he have called her? Ever again?
She’d been his girlfriend, through high school and two years of college. His lover during the college years. In his mind, there’d been no doubt that they were going to marry, raise a family, grow old together. No doubt that she was his one and only.
And then in one weekend, it had all shattered. She’d gone out with another guy. And the very next day had called Reese to tell him they were through. No talking. No chances. Just done.
With gloves on, he handled, bagged and tagged the ashes that he’d be taking to LA. He was using the forensic lab where he’d studied during college. Doing a lot of the work himself.
The fires felt personal.
Santa Raquel was his town now.
She wasn’t a nurse. Why? It was all she’d ever wanted to be. Just like his passion had been fire investigations. Firefighting. On the front line protecting his home state from the wildfires that threatened it during the dry season.
That’s why, even when she was awarded her scholarship to UC Berkeley, he’d gone to Southern Cal, LA. Because their fire management program was the best in the state.
And now she wasn’t even a nurse?
She’d married. Her name was Walker.
She was married. Walker. Did the guy know his wife had just moved to the town where her ex-lover had settled? Did he know she was working for him?
The audacity of that one burned his blood.
Did she know he’d been married? Did she think that somehow made them even?
Not even close, lady. Not even close.
He walked the beach, his state-of-the-art flashlight leading the way. If the guy had so much as spilled a drop of gasoline, he wanted to find it. It would tell him which direction he’d come from. Or left by. He checked the dried brush on the other side of the fire.
He searched for three hours but found nothing of significance.
Was no closer to discovering his arsonist.
But he had a solid plan for Faye Walker.
She was going to be axed. Immediately.
* * *
“ELLIOTT?” LEAVING HER son’s bedroom, Faye searched the apartment. She’d rented the upstairs of an antebellum home just two blocks from the beach. The rooms, with their high ceilings, new paint and pristine wooden floors, were beautiful, but the clincher on the deal for her had been the landlady.
Suzie
