Torch Scene Read Free

shirts.
    “My clothes smell like a forest fire,” she said as she used her hand like a comb and ran it through her short blond hair, giving it a rakish look. Even though stress lines streaked her face, and sadness ringed her eyes, she was cute as ever.
    I kissed her and handed her the coffee.
    “Thanks.” She sat wearily on the edge of the bed and took a sip. She made a face and put the cup on the floor.
    “Not good?” I said, trying for pseudo-offended. Trying to make her laugh, but it didn’t work.
    She ignored that and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “I missed a call.” She hit some buttons and listened to a voice mail. “It’s Darcy,” she said with relief. “She’s going into a meeting and said to call later.” She hung up and sighed. “I’ll call her back, and I hope she’ll answer. I don’t want to leave this kind of news in a message.”
    “That’s probably a good idea.”
    She returned the call, waited and shook her head. “Still not answering.” She left another message, saying to call, all the while trying to keep her voice from breaking.
    “Did you hear from Nick O’Rourke?” I asked when she finished.
    “No.” She stared off into space. “What am I going to do?”
    I leaned against the dresser. “You can stay here. I’ll clean up and we’ll go get you some clothes and stuff.”
    “I don’t mean that.” She made a halfhearted gesture toward the street. “The whole upstairs is gone. And the damage…” her voice trailed off.
    “How did…when did…” I wasn’t sure if now was the time to ask about her owning the building, but I had to admit, my curiosity was killing me.
    “How long have I owned the building?”
    I nodded.
    “I bought it shortly after I moved in, when I was dating Alan.” Alan was the boyfriend before me. “I heard the building was for sale and I thought it would be a good investment, with the real estate market the way it was. I got it at a steal, and the hope is that I can sell it for a nice profit down the road. It’s risky for me, though. The rent I get from the other units covers the mortgage, but not much else.”
    “I never knew,” I said.
    Her face colored slightly. “I wasn’t trying to hide it. It just never came up.”
    We hadn’t been dating that long, but I was still surprised she’d never told me. I wanted to talk about it more, but like last night, it didn’t seem like the right time. She had too much to deal with right now.
    “You’ve got enough insurance, right?” I asked.
    “I think so.” She stood up, went to the window and peered out.
    “That’s good. I know that doesn’t help when you’re talking about personal things, like photos, but at least you’ll be able to –” I saw the expression on her face and stopped talking. “What?”
    “The fire inspectors are still there,” she said. “Maybe they know how the fire started.”
    “You want to talk to them now?”
    “Yes.” She turned around. “Will you come with me?”
    “Sure.” I really wanted to take a shower so I didn’t smell like barbecue, but Willie was already headed out of the bedroom. I yanked on a pair of tennis shoes and followed her.
    We tromped down the stairs, neither of us saying a word. The sun was high in the sky, but the day was cool, and a burning odor still clung to the air. We rounded the corner of the house and hurried down the sidewalk. A television truck was parked just down the street, and a couple of unmarked police cars sat in front of the building. Behind them was an ambulance, and then I spied a classic blue ’65 Mustang in front of one of the unmarked cars. I suddenly stopped as I recognized the car’s owner standing across the street, in front of the charred remains of Willie’s house. It was Sarah Spillman, from Denver’s homicide department. My stomach roiled. Seeing her meant only one thing: someone had died in the fire.

 
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    I hoped I was wrong, but I didn’t think so.
    Willie plowed into