Suddenly, coolly calm, Eric texted back, yes. He went to his bedroom and grabbed the plastic bag in which he’d stuffed his smoky-smelling clothes. He couldn’t let the maid find them. He’d throw them in a dumpster.
Then he slid his hand behind the stacks of video games on his closet shelf, finding his gun. He checked the magazine, found it full. He smacked it back into place with the heel of his hand. Just in case the texter actually showed his face, he’d be ready.
He chuckled on the inside as he closed the disposable phone. Then lifted his gaze to the television mounted on the wall, his pose appropriately somber. The report was ending with old news, but the first few minutes had made his day.
The guard had been a fucking cop. It just got better. Or worse if you were Eric and the gang. A murdered guard was one thing, but a murdered retired cop? Pure gold.
He wondered if Eric had told the others. Wondered what Eric’s attempt at countering him would be. It didn’t matter. I hold all the cards. I always do.
“Excuse me.”
He dropped his eyes from the television to the slightly impatient face of the next customer. “I’m sorry,” he said soberly. “It’s just the fire. Those poor people. That officer.”
The customer sighed, her impatience gone. “I know. It’s so disturbing. You take your life in your hands every time you leave your house these days.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” he said sympathetically. “So, how can I help you today?”
Monday, September 20, 9:20 a.m.
Olivia tidily folded the paper wrapper as she swallowed the last bit of her breakfast sandwich. Not saying a word, Kane took his hand off the steering wheel long enough to hand her the large coffee in the cup holder between them.
“Thanks,” she said. “You know I could have driven. It was my day.”
He slanted her his “bullshit” look. “I slept. You didn’t.”
“I tried,” she said quietly. “I really did. I went and worked my ass off at the gym so that I’d be tired. Took my dog for a run, took a hot shower, even drank some of that herbal tea you’re so keen on, which is totally nasty, by the way. Nothing worked. So I dropped Mojo off at Brie’s and came in. And you would have done the same.”
“Well, maybe,” he said grudgingly. “All except taking my dog to doggy day care.”
Olivia’s friend, Brie Franconi, ran a canine training kennel but had begun letting cops drop off their dogs when they knew they’d be working a long shift. Olivia didn’t care what Brie called the service, she was just grateful for it.
“Mojo gets to play with the other dogs while I’m working, and I don’t feel so guilty. He keeps me company,” she added a little wistfully. She’d gotten the dog shortly after her fiancé, Doug, left her. “The house gets too quiet sometimes.”
Kane shot her a look. “Seeing Barlow can’t be easy for you.”
She shrugged. Seeing David was somehow a hell of a lot worse. “Micah made his choice a long time ago, but I suppose his siding with Doug was for the best. If Doug didn’t want me, I guess it’s better I found out before I tied the knot.” She sipped at her coffee, glad it was strong. “I’ve been thinking about the girl. If she was in business with the arsonists, her purpose for being in the building is straightforward.”
“I agree. But if she wasn’t,” Kane said, “and if her being there was just very bad timing, we have to wonder what drove her there. To that building.”
“If she’s not local, how would she know about it? You can’t see it from the road.”
“But you can see it from different points around the lake,” Kane said.
“Right again.” She took a sheet of paper from the briefcase at her feet. “I printed a map of the lake, which is primarily residential. Small houses, a lot of vacation cabins.”
“Good. We can take her photo around, see if anyone’s seen her and ask if anyone noticed any unusual activity last night. It would have been hard to see through the fence, but we might get lucky. We can’t ignore the possibility that it was an inside job.”
“I did a search on Rankin and Sons this morning. I was hoping to find they were on the verge of bankruptcy or something that would make the motive for the arson clear.”
“But Rankin’s solid?”
“Well, they were before last night. A good percentage of the shoreline property has been bought up by a company named KRB, which planned to build six condos in total. It’s supposed to be a planned community and Rankin was hired to build phase one, which were the luxury condos. Phase two will be two more buildings, targeted to upper-middle-class families. Construction is scheduled to begin in the spring.” She studied the map. “A lot of these cabins will be leveled.”
“Homeowners might be angry about that,” Kane said.
“Angry enough to set a fire, though?”
“Maybe. We should see if any of the homeowners have protested the construction project. Is Rankin the builder of the next phase?” Kane asked.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Olivia replied. “The newspaper article I read said that KRB would evaluate Rankin after phase one, to see how well they managed budget.”
“Barlow said they’d fired a security guard because they were running over budget.”
“Yeah, he did. So Rankin may have been in a spot. Depending on how badly they were screwing up, arson may have seemed a good idea to somebody at the time. Anyway, phase three would be two buildings for retirees and an assisted-living facility. Future plans show shopping, a medical center, an entire planned community. Last night’s fire took out the first building, so I’m betting the whole schedule is up in the air.”
“Who owns this KRB company?”
“I was just getting into that when the morgue called. I forwarded what I had so far to Faye and asked her to finish the search.” Abbott’s clerk was a research whiz. “I did run the construction manager through the system. Squeaky clean.”
“Does the construction manager own a gun?”
“He doesn’t have a permit. Micki did a residue test on his hands last night. He didn’t fire a gun, or if he did, he was smart enough to wear gloves.”
“We’ll need to check his finances and those of KRB. When we’re done here, we should start warrants.”
“Unless SPOT claims responsibility and then we have to bring in the Feds.”
Kane shrugged. “I’ve worked task forces with the Feds before. It’s not so bad, so stop worrying. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.”
“I’ve already got wrinkles,” Olivia muttered. Thirty-one and she was falling apart.
He stuck out his hand. “Give me another sandwich.”
Frowning, she dug into the bag on the seat between them. “You’re not leaving any for the firefighters.” She slapped one into his hand. “No more for you after this.”
They’d hit the Deli on their way out of the city, the coffee/sandwich shop that catered to cops, students, and professors, and anyone else who liked a good meal. It had been her turn to get breakfast, so she’d ordered Kane’s favorite-egg and pastrami on rye-then on impulse, added a dozen breakfast sandwiches for the firefighters, who wouldn’t have any trouble wolfing them down. When the Deli’s manager had found out who the food was for, he’d thrown in a thermos of coffee for free.
“There are still ten left,” Kane said. “How many can one pretty-boy firefighter eat?”
Olivia’s face flushed hot. “Kane,” she said warningly.
He looked unapologetic. “We’re almost there. You should do something with those bags under your eyes. Powder or something.”
She drew a breath. “Kane,” she said, the warning gone ominous.
They’d stopped at a red light, so he leaned over and pulled her purse from the glove box and dropped it in her lap. “Little lipstick wouldn’t hurt either.”
The light turned green and he started through the intersection without another word. Fuming, she flipped the visor down and checked the mirror. And winced. “Ye gods.”
“Indeed,” Kane said gravely.
She gave him a dirty look. “At least my hair’s okay.”