around the block, the guy was gone.
Max stopped, frustrated that he'd lost him, even though he didn't really know why he was in pursuit. But he'd trusted his instincts for a very long time, and most of the time his gut did not steer him wrong. Maybe this time, however, his instincts were off. He was on edge. His life was about to change in a big way, and he didn't know if he was ready.
Turning, he walked back the way he'd come. When he reached his car, his phone rang. He pulled it out and saw his mother's number. His stomach muscles clenched.
"Mom? What's up?"
"I just want to make sure you're going to pick me up at eight o'clock tomorrow," she said.
"I promised I would," he replied.
"Don't be late. Your brother has waited long enough for this day."
"I won't be late," he promised. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and then opened his car door and slid behind the wheel, his heart racing a little too fast as he thought about the next morning—about the sixty mile drive north to the prison where he would pick up his brother.
Chapter Two
The fire call came in at three o'clock in the morning on Monday, three hours after the Callaway party ended. Emma had been asleep, lost in a crazy dream that involved her ex-boyfriend, Jon, the annoying Inspector Harrison and her grandmother, when she'd been awoken by the sound of her cell phone.
It had taken a minute for the bad news to sink in. This wasn't just any fire, it was a fire at Brady's Bar and Grill, and first responders on the scene had determined the fire to be suspicious.
She threw on her clothes and drove back to the bar. She had to park a block away; there was a line of fire engines and police cars blocking the street. As she walked toward the fire, she saw flames shooting out of the roof and through the broken windows. She felt sick to her stomach. The warm, cozy, neighborhood bar where she'd spent so many hours was totally engulfed with fire. It seemed a bitter irony that a place so special to the firefighting community was now going up in smoke. A few hours ago there had been dozens of firefighters celebrating her father's promotion. Now there were dozens fighting the blaze.
Was that the point? Had someone wanted to make a statement in a place where firefighters gathered?
Her mind whirled with questions as she drew closer to the scene. She scanned the gathering crowd for anyone who looked out of place or appeared a little too interested or too happy about the fire. It wasn't uncommon for arsonists to stay and watch their handiwork. It was part of the thrill. Some even called the fires in so they could watch the fire trucks come roaring down the street and see the terrified residents pouring out of their homes.
Fortunately, this city block was made up of commercial buildings, with only a few second and third floor apartments mixed in, so they didn’t have many people to worry about. There were a dozen or so individuals wearing pajamas and robes standing across the street. The adjacent buildings had obviously been evacuated. Fighting fires in San Francisco was always a challenge as many of the structures shared common walls. A fire could spread through an entire block if it wasn't caught early.
As soon as she arrived on scene, she checked in with the Incident Commander Grant Holmes, whom she'd worked under in her firefighting days.
He gave her a tense nod. "Callaway. You got here fast."
"I couldn't believe it was Brady's. We were just here celebrating my father's promotion."
"Looks like it will be the last party here for a while."
"How did it start?"
"We found gasoline cans inside the front and back door. The rear portion of the roof collapsed seconds after the first guys in reported a deceased female. We haven't been able to get her out yet.
Emma's stomach turned over. She knew several of the female servers at Brady's. "Do you have an I.D.?"
"No."
"Has the owner been contacted?" she asked, looking around for Harry Brady.
"He was here with his
Max stopped, frustrated that he'd lost him, even though he didn't really know why he was in pursuit. But he'd trusted his instincts for a very long time, and most of the time his gut did not steer him wrong. Maybe this time, however, his instincts were off. He was on edge. His life was about to change in a big way, and he didn't know if he was ready.
Turning, he walked back the way he'd come. When he reached his car, his phone rang. He pulled it out and saw his mother's number. His stomach muscles clenched.
"Mom? What's up?"
"I just want to make sure you're going to pick me up at eight o'clock tomorrow," she said.
"I promised I would," he replied.
"Don't be late. Your brother has waited long enough for this day."
"I won't be late," he promised. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and then opened his car door and slid behind the wheel, his heart racing a little too fast as he thought about the next morning—about the sixty mile drive north to the prison where he would pick up his brother.
Chapter Two
The fire call came in at three o'clock in the morning on Monday, three hours after the Callaway party ended. Emma had been asleep, lost in a crazy dream that involved her ex-boyfriend, Jon, the annoying Inspector Harrison and her grandmother, when she'd been awoken by the sound of her cell phone.
It had taken a minute for the bad news to sink in. This wasn't just any fire, it was a fire at Brady's Bar and Grill, and first responders on the scene had determined the fire to be suspicious.
She threw on her clothes and drove back to the bar. She had to park a block away; there was a line of fire engines and police cars blocking the street. As she walked toward the fire, she saw flames shooting out of the roof and through the broken windows. She felt sick to her stomach. The warm, cozy, neighborhood bar where she'd spent so many hours was totally engulfed with fire. It seemed a bitter irony that a place so special to the firefighting community was now going up in smoke. A few hours ago there had been dozens of firefighters celebrating her father's promotion. Now there were dozens fighting the blaze.
Was that the point? Had someone wanted to make a statement in a place where firefighters gathered?
Her mind whirled with questions as she drew closer to the scene. She scanned the gathering crowd for anyone who looked out of place or appeared a little too interested or too happy about the fire. It wasn't uncommon for arsonists to stay and watch their handiwork. It was part of the thrill. Some even called the fires in so they could watch the fire trucks come roaring down the street and see the terrified residents pouring out of their homes.
Fortunately, this city block was made up of commercial buildings, with only a few second and third floor apartments mixed in, so they didn’t have many people to worry about. There were a dozen or so individuals wearing pajamas and robes standing across the street. The adjacent buildings had obviously been evacuated. Fighting fires in San Francisco was always a challenge as many of the structures shared common walls. A fire could spread through an entire block if it wasn't caught early.
As soon as she arrived on scene, she checked in with the Incident Commander Grant Holmes, whom she'd worked under in her firefighting days.
He gave her a tense nod. "Callaway. You got here fast."
"I couldn't believe it was Brady's. We were just here celebrating my father's promotion."
"Looks like it will be the last party here for a while."
"How did it start?"
"We found gasoline cans inside the front and back door. The rear portion of the roof collapsed seconds after the first guys in reported a deceased female. We haven't been able to get her out yet.
Emma's stomach turned over. She knew several of the female servers at Brady's. "Do you have an I.D.?"
"No."
"Has the owner been contacted?" she asked, looking around for Harry Brady.
"He was here with his
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