On Fire (Shadow Stalkers #4)

On Fire (Shadow Stalkers #4) Page 22

“Excuse me?”

“One guy to the next, one town to the next. Without any concern for the people who care about you and went out of their way for you?”

“You sound like Chris.” Darcy slid her chair back and pushed to her feet, unnerved by his unexpected and provoking remarks. “We’ll talk later, once we’re both thinking straight.”

“Sit down.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Sit the fuck down.”

She stared at him, finding the harshness of his words very much at odds with his calm voice and demeanor. A chill ran down her spine. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“I’ve done a lot for you.” He gave her a mocking smile. “Don’t you think I have the right to get pissed when you throw me over for a gung-ho deputy who’ll be in and out of your cunt as fast as he’s in and out of this town?”

Darcy turned away, heading around the opposite side of the dining table to get to the front door.

Columbo started barking violently. She’d scarcely registered the addition of a third voice in the conversation when the leash whipped around her neck and yanked her back.

Her head slammed into the edge of the table and her vision blackened…

JARED WAS SEALING up the contents of Mitch Quinn’s locker at the fire station when the hairs on his nape prickled with warning. He paused, knowing he was wasting time closing off an avenue that was a dead end to begin with. In the meantime, something was wrong. It hit him in the gut, and he knew better than to ignore it.

He pulled out his phone and called Darcy. When he reached her voice mail twice in a row, he went to the contact list hung on the station’s wall and called Ralston. When he got no answer there, either, he returned to the sheriff’s department and entered the interview room to confront Quinn.

Setting his palms on the table, he asked, “Why did you run?”

“I didn’t run, I—”

“Listen, I don’t give a shit, Quinn. The recorder isn’t on. It’s just you and me.”

Mitch shot him a look. “Do I look like a moron?”

“You look like a guy who’s being set up. You have no one to corroborate your alibis for the nights of the fires, you have electrical wiring in your locker similar to the type Merkerson was known to use…With everything else we’ve got, it’s not looking good.” Jared saw cold defiance shift across Quinn’s face and changed tactics. “You consider Darcy Michaels a friend, don’t you? I know she’s real hopeful that you’ll be promoted to full-time soon. I bet she puts in a good word for you every chance she gets. Does that mean anything to you? Or do you just care about yourself?”

Jaw ticcing, Mitch said, “I like Darcy.”

“I think it’s possible the person responsible for the fires is responsible for Dr. Danielle Michaels’s death, too. I think it’s possible they’re going to go after Darcy Michaels at some point. And I think it’s really fucking unlikely that you had anything to do with any of it, but someone wants to deflect attention from himself by drawing it to you. Someone who knows something about you that would make you antsy, make you run, make you lawyer up right off the bat so you look guilty and waste my time. Who would know you’re into something shady, Mitch? Who would know your schedule? Gimme a name. Help Darcy after all she’s done to help you.”

Mitch scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t have to.” He bent closer and lowered his voice. “Miller? Ralston?”

“No way. Both of them are gonzo over her.” He gripped his head in his hands. “The chief makes the schedule. He knows my hours and days.”

Jared straightened, remembering his brief introduction to the Lion’s Bay fire chief. “Chief Sendak?”

“He’s gay, dude. He wouldn’t have been messing around with Dr. Michaels.”

“But he has access to your locker, your schedule, and the mailing room?”

“Listen.” Mitch leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Occasionally—rarely—some of the guys have things shipped to them at the station that they don’t want their wives finding out about. You know? Aside from that, there’s nothing hinky going on. The guys are all straight up.”

“Fuck.” Leaving the room, Jared pulled out his phone and called Darcy again. As it rang, he went by Miller’s office and found it empty, then crossed through the bull pen to the desk and the blond deputy who manned it. He hung up when he got Darcy’s voice mail.

“Hi, Deputy,” the blonde greeted him.

He managed a brief, distracted smile. “Where’s Miller?”

“He left while you were at the fire station.”

“Where did he go?”

She shrugged and smiled prettily. “I don’t know. He took personal time.”

“Get him on the radio. Please.” He watched her make the attempt a few times with no answer before he turned around and looked for Trish. She was pouring a cup of coffee but sensed his gaze. She looked at him with a frown, then set the carafe down. She was walking toward him before he gestured to her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Something’s bugging me. I need to find Darcy.”

“I’m coming with you.”

He didn’t question her assertion, knowing her instincts were as keen as his own. He looked at the deputy at the desk. “I need Chief Inspector Ralston’s home address. And Sheriff Miller’s, too.”

TRISH DROVE WHILE Jared continued to try to reach Darcy. When his other line beeped, he looked at the screen and saw Kelley’s name.

“Cameron,” he answered.

“Cameron, it’s Kelley. I got your e-mail about Sheriff Miller. Thanks for keeping me in the loop.”

“It’s your case, Kelley. I hope you can close it.”

“I’m on my way to the airport now. I’ll be back there to talk with Miller myself tonight, but in the meantime, in the spirit of sharing, I thought you’d be interested to know that I poked around his background a little this morning and discovered his second cousin was aide to the lead detective on the Prophet case in Memphis.”

“Well, shit.” He glanced at Trish and mouthed, “Miller.”

Trish adjusted the GPS and changed direction.

“Thank you,” he said to Kelley. “Have a safe flight.”

“Try not to get blown up before I get there. It’d be nice to meet you in one piece.”

DARCY WOKE WITH a groan, her head throbbing. Blinking, she tried to move and found her wrists bound. Awareness shot through her like a bullet, setting her heart racing. Her jaw ached from the ball gag that stuffed her mouth. She turned her head from side to side, trying to figure out where she was. Something wet touched her cheek, followed by the soft stroke of a tongue.

Columbo. The German shepherd lay beside her on the floor in an unknown bedroom. The room was shrouded by drawn curtains and cloaked in eerie quiet.

She rolled to the side and managed to prop herself up with an elbow. The room spun and her stomach roiled. She fought off a wave of nausea, knowing she’d choke with the gag in her mouth. Leaning against the side of the bed, she sucked in air through her nose like a swimmer too long underwater. Her gaze fell on a badge lying on the floor near an antique dresser.

Chris’s sheriff badge.

A chill moved through her as she remembered his angry voice intruding on her conversation with Jim just before she’d lost consciousness.

Darcy managed to sit up, her gaze falling to the standard-issue handcuffs on her wrists. Chris’s cuffs. Fear settled like a rock in her gut.

She jerked as she heard a door open somewhere in the house, then close, followed by heavy boot steps crossing hardwood floors, increasing in volume as they drew closer. The doorbell rang and they paused.

Struggling to her knees and then her feet, she was frantic to get to the door and get help.

The bell rang again and the screen door creaked open. Knocking ensued.

“Miller? It’s Deputy Cameron.”

The sound of Jared’s voice brought tears to her eyes. She was fumbling with the knob to the door when it opened. Stumbling backward, she fell onto the bed. Relief poured through her when Jim stepped into the room.

Then she saw the gun in his hand.

“Make a sound,” he said softly, “and I’ll shoot Cameron as he comes in. Understand?”

Outside, Jared knocked and called out again. Tears coursed down her face, her brain trying to process the feverish brightness of Jim’s eyes. She’d never seen him look that way, never had him eye her coldly as he was doing now…

“He can’t come in here without a warrant,” Jim said calmly, as if he weren’t brandishing a deadly weapon. “If you’re quiet, he’ll leave and live another day.”

It seemed like an eternity before Jared gave up.

Darcy’s lungs heaved for breath, spots swimming before her eyes.

Jim raised the gun to point at her chest. “After everything I’ve done for you…Damn it. It breaks my heart to have to kill you again.”

JARED STARED AT the police cruiser parked at the curb in front of Miller’s house and shoved a hand through his hair. He called the station and asked what kind of personal vehicle the sheriff drove.

Trish stood on the sidewalk with her hands on her hips. “Miller is hugely territorial, but we get a suspect in custody and he bails?”

“He knows something we don’t.”

“You like him for this? The fires or the vet? Or both?”

He went to the cruiser and set his hand on the hood, feeling the heat that told him the car had very recently been driven. “Do you?”

“No.” She looked at the house. “I’m not keen on Quinn, either.”

“Let’s run by Ralston’s.”

As they pulled away from the curb, the unsettled feeling in his gut grew. He dialed Darcy’s phone again.