David wasn’t sure if he should laugh or frown. “You got designs on my mom?”
“No,” Glenn said forcefully. Indignantly, even. “I just thought she might like to… Never mind.” He struggled to get out of the deep chair and David waved him back.
“Sit. I’m not going out with my mother tonight. She’s out shopping.”
“You’re leaving her alone, her first night here?”
“Just for a little while.” Maybe. He was afraid to hope for longer than a little while with Olivia. “Where did you want to take her?”
Glenn shrugged, embarrassed. “Dooley’s maybe. They got good wings.”
David shook his head. “My mom’s better than a place with big-breasted waitresses. Besides, you changed your shirt and shaved. That calls for something special.”
“Like I can afford anything special,” Glenn groused. David shook his head again, saying nothing, and Glenn blew out a frustrated breath. “Martino’s has tablecloths.”
David chuckled at his discomfort. “She’d like that. And you might see Lacey from 2A. Martino hired her. You like my mother or something?”
Glenn’s cheeks went red. “She’s a nice lady. Back off, boy.”
“It’s just that… she doesn’t date.” It was true, he realized. “Not since my dad.”
“How long ago did your dad pass?”
“I was eighteen, so eighteen years ago. She was so strong, never complained. She was always there for us. I guess I never thought of her ever… dating again.”
“It’s just Martino’s,” Glenn said in an overly patient voice. “I’m not gonna marry her.”
David looked at him, slyly now. “She’s awful pretty, my mama.”
“Don’t make me get out of this chair, Hunter.”
“Like you could without a winch. Just be nice to her, okay? She’s a good person.”
“That I could tell, straight off.” Glenn cleared his throat. “So where are you going?”
It was David’s turn to fidget in his chair. “Your cabin.”
“Dressed like that? You even spit shined your Sunday shoes.”
“I don’t spit. I have to talk to someone about something that happened a while ago.”
“What’s her name?”
He sighed. “Olivia.”
Glenn’s brows went up. “The one you slept with and whose sister you slept with? I also have ears like a bat. Just so you know.”
David closed his eyes. “I didn’t sleep with either of them. I think.”
“You think? You think?”
“That’s what I said.” And he’d said too much. “What time is it, anyway?”
Glenn glanced at the computer screen. “Ten to six.” Then he squinted, looking closer. He looked up, his eyes gone angry. “Why are you reading about Preston Moss?”
David leaned forward. “You know Moss?”
“Not personally. I remember him. They left a glass globe at each of their fires,” Glenn said slowly. “That ball you caught today. The cops think Moss is back?”
“They don’t know,” David said. “They’re trying to keep it out of the news.”
“I can see why. This guy was bad, Davy. He wore this veneer of sincerity, but in the end, he was just a thug.” His voice trembled. “No more than a thug.”
“What happened, Glenn?”
Glenn closed the laptop. “They talk about the woman who died, who fell asleep in that building and couldn’t get out. How she was charred black. They don’t talk about the firefighters who were hurt trying to knock that fire down. The building went up, taking the buildings on both sides. We were lucky we knocked it down as quick as we did.”
“Who was hurt?” David asked, and saw pain flicker in Glenn’s eyes.
“Two young guys. One is scarred to this day. The other’s forty and pulls an oxygen tank behind him like he chain-smoked for fifty years. They got caught inside. Ran out of air. Both of ’em nearly died. It was big news when it happened, but now… just one of those historical footnotes. That poor lady died, and we were really sorry about that. But we lost two good men that day. And Preston Moss just disappears. Lousy coward.”
“Lousy coward who could really stir up a crowd.”
“That he could. I can’t believe he’s back.”
“Maybe he’s not. But I need you to keep quiet on this. Not a word, Glenn.”
Glenn pursed his lips. “All right.”
The outer door downstairs slammed. “David?”
David jumped to his feet and looked down the stairs to the entryway where his mother stood, arms laden with grocery bags. “I’ll get those, Ma.” He tossed a look over his shoulder. “And you mind your Ps and Qs, old man. She’s my mom.” He jogged down the stairs and took the bags from her hands. “You gonna feed an army?”
“Just you. And Glenn.” She followed him up the stairs. “And the new mothers in 2A.”
“The Gorski sisters in 1B planted a garden. Kept me in tomatoes all summer.”
“Then we shall feed them as well. But aren’t you going out tonight?”
His front door had closed again, and he nudged it with his hip. “Yep. But Glenn has a yen for Italian, don’t you, Glenn?”
She smiled when she saw Glenn. “I make a fantastic carbonara. You’ll love it.”
David shook his head, and Glenn cleared his throat. “Can’t cook in the boy’s kitchen. He just laid that medallion on the floor. But we could go to Martino’s.”
David put the grocery bags on his table and dropped a kiss on his mother’s cheek. “They have tablecloths,” he said, then grabbed his laptop. “Don’t stay out past eleven. You need any mad money in case the old goat gets fresh?”
She swatted at him, laughing and blushing prettily. “Get out of here.”
Monday, September 20, 6:10 p.m.
Abbott’s afternoon meeting had been mostly a rehash of what Olivia had already known. The only new information was that Ian had found smoke in Henry Weems’s lungs, but not that much, indicating Weems was probably not in the building while it was burning. Still, that negated the theory that the gunman had shot him, then set the fire.
Which meant they had at least three arsonists. Barlow had background checks on the Rankin construction company employees. Six had felony records, none for arson, and eight in ten appeared to be teetering on the verge of bankruptcy.
So much for narrowing down the motive. Barlow had asked for help processing the employees and Abbott said he’d free up Noah Webster. That made Olivia happy. Noah was a damn good homicide detective and easy to work with.
Abbott told them Special Agent Crawford of the FBI had finally returned his call. Crawford was up north, on reservation land, but would be back and in their office by oh-eight tomorrow. Crawford had been extremely excited to hear about the glass ball.
Now she sat next to Kane in Ian’s office in the morgue. Tracey Mullen’s father had arrived, but their sign language interpreter had not. They’d wait to start the ID until they could clearly communicate with the girl’s father.
“Whose turn is it?” Kane asked.
“Yours. I told Mrs. Weems, and we each told one of the Mullens this morning. So it’s your turn to take the lead with the dad.”
“I figured as much,” Kane said glumly. “What do you have going on tonight?”
“I’m getting your field glasses back,” Olivia said dryly and Kane’s brows went up.
“Good,” was all he said and Olivia was relieved.
“I heard from Mr. Oaks at the school for the deaf,” Olivia said. “Apparently he was using one of those videophones Brie told us about, because the conversation went a lot faster. Oaks said that he’d be glad to work with us in asking the kids what they knew. Offhand he couldn’t think of anyone we should be looking at, though.”
“It’s possible Tracey’s partner doesn’t go to the school,” Kane said.
“True, but it’s a place to start.”
“Just like the Gators nail art,” Kane said. “That was nicely done, by the way.”
She smiled. “You’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll take the lead, aren’t you?”