In Broad Daylight

In Broad Daylight Read Free Page A

Book: In Broad Daylight Read Free
Author: Marie Ferrarella
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Romance, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective
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    Her mind felt as if it were completely jumbled up, with all the thoughts glued together in
    one giant ball. Brenda strove to peel apart the layers, arranging the events of the last hour
    in their proper sequence.

    Because she didn't begin immediately, Dax fired a question at her. Patience, when it came
    to cases, had never been his strong suit. The few times he had been assigned to a
    stakeout, he had all but climbed up one side of the wall and down the other.

    "Let's begin with the fire." He pinned her with a look. "Was there an actual fire?" He hadn't smelled any smoke entering the building, but something or someone had to have set
    off the alarm.

    As if riding to her rescue, Harwood drew himself up behind his desk.

    "Yes, there was," he cut in. "A small one." He glanced at Brenda before adding, "The fire chief told me that some papers in a wastepaper basket had caught fire. They used one of
    our fire extinguishers to put it out. It turned out simpler that way."

    Dax exchanged looks with Nathan. Wastepaper baskets didn't just spontaneously
    combust. "That sounds as if it might have been deliberately set." His gaze swept over
    Brenda before returning to the headmaster. "Are any of your kids budding pyromaniacs or
    overly fascinated with matches?"

    Brenda's eyes widened at the suggestion. "No!" she snapped. Some of her pupils were
    starved for attention and might on occasion act out, but they were five- and six-years-old
    and that kind of behavior was only normal.

    Harwood was sputtering indignantly. "I assure you that my school—"

    Dax waved his hand in a downward motion, as if banking down their protests.

    "Just a question," he told them mildly, although he had posed it to see both of their
    reactions. The woman was protective while the headmaster came off as concerned about
    his school's reputation. "Would anyone else have set the fire?"

    Nathan raised an eyebrow, looking up from the notes he was religiously scribbling down.
    "You're thinking maybe it was a diversion?"

    Dax nodded.

    So had she, the moment she'd overheard the fire chief telling Matthew Harwood that the
    origin of the fire had been found in her wastepaper basket. A diversion to take attention
    away from the fact that Annie Tyler was being stolen.

    The very thought ate away at her. She should have realized something was wrong. There
    was no earthly reason why, but somehow, her instincts should have told her that something
    was wrong.

    She might as well tell him before he found out on his own. "It was my wastepaper basket."

    Her student, her wastepaper basket. Dax looked at the woman with deepening interest. It
    seemed too simple, but then, most criminals were not the masterminds that so frequently
    populated the more intriguing mysteries and action movies. Wanting to race, he still took it
    one step at a time.

    Facing her, his back blocking out Harwood, he asked, "Were you in the room at the time?"

    She could almost sense what he was thinking. Brenda took a breath and shook her head.
    "No. The class and I were giving a tour to Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley—"

    She saw the good-looking detective's eyes narrow just a little, as if he was filtering in
    this new information. "Who?"

    "Parents of a prospective new student," Harwood explained, moving so that Dax could see him. The man looked none-too-happy about being ignored. "It's done all the time."

    That didn't sound quite right to him. In his experience, teachers were all too happy to
    escape from their classroom for a few minutes, leaving a slightly more mature child in
    charge of the class for the duration of their absence.

    "Taking your whole class out?" Dax asked in disbelief, waiting to be corrected.

    No such correction came. "It's to show how well-behaved our students are," Harwood told him. "We're quite proud of that."

    The detective still didn't look as if he believed them. Brenda felt a spark of resentment
    building. She knew he was just doing his job, but she couldn't help

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