The Truth Seeker (30 page)

Marcus read the situation in a glance, slid his arm around her waist, and took over. “Lizzy, you scared us, honey.”

Marcus met his gaze, and Quinn understood the silent message.

Quinn let his hand tighten on Lisa’s shoulder. “I’ll get Jack so you can see for yourself he’s okay.”

Lisa was sitting on the side step of the fire engine, silent, one tennis shoe off because she’d stepped on a hot ember and burned the sole. She was moving her socked foot slowly back and forth in the soot-blackened water rushing down the street toward the nearest storm drain, her gaze never leaving the dying fire. Her brother Stephen had wrapped a fire coat around her and she gripped it with both hands, pulled tight.

Quinn kept a close watch on her as he leaned against the driver’s door of a squad car, waiting for a callback from the dispatcher. She was alone in her grief, her emotions hidden, her eyes dry. She’d lost what she valued, and he hated to realize how much it had to resonate with her past.

Kate sat down beside her.

Quinn watched as the two sisters sat in silence, and he prayed for Kate, that she would have the right words to say.

Instead, Kate remained silent.

And Lisa leaned her head over against Kate’s shoulder and continued to watch the fire burn, the silence unbroken.

Friends. Deep, lifelong friends.

Quinn had to turn away from the sight, so much emotion inside it was going to rupture out in tears or fury.

He found himself facing a grim Marcus.

“Quinn, get her out of here.”

“Stephen has already tried; she won’t budge.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll keep her safe; now that it’s too late.”

“Quinn—we’ll find him.”

That wasn’t even a question. He was going to hunt the guy down Rachel had wanted to come along, and Kate, but Lisa had just

“No. I mean out of here. Out of town,” Marcus replied tersely. “He goes from notes and phone calls to fire. He’s not going to stop there.”

Marcus was right. Lisa had to come first. “The ranch. She’s going to need the space.”

and rip out his heart.

“Lizzy.” She was awake but looked unseeing out the plane window, her face still bearing the streaks of soot and her clothes the strong smell of smoke. Quinn tucked the blanket around her lap, then eased her head forward and replaced the jacket she’d bundled up with a pillow. He reached for her hand and closed it around a cold water bottle. “Ice water. It will help.”

He loosened the cap when she tried and couldn’t turn it.

He wished she’d say something, wished she’d at least cry, but instead she had pulled back into silence, turning her face away from him, watching the black night sky. Dave had chartered the flight for them so she’d have no one else to have to deal with.

shaken her head. It had hurt the others to see her pulling away from them, but Lisa hadn’t seen that. She’d simply wanted to retreat on her own. And because he understood, he’d quietly suggested to her family that they give her a couple days.

He wanted so badly to reach out and pull her against him, take the pain away, but she wasn’t seeking him out either, and that hurt, deep in his soul it hurt. She wasn’t turning to him.

He reached over and held her hand. For the duration of the flight it remained lax within his.

Twenty-one

Quinn walked down the long hardwood floor hallway in the ranch house, past the sculptures and the art, the mail on the side table and suitcases still unpacked by the door. He accepted the phone from his housekeeper. “Jack?”

“How’s she doing?”

Quinn didn’t have a good description. “Still in shock. Too quiet.”

He worried about how long it would take her to come out of it. This Lisa, so passive she followed directions without comment, was a mystery to him. He hoped that if she couldn’t sleep she’d at least seek him out, rather than slip from the house to walk alone. “How are you doing? Honestly?”

Jack’s voice had deepened an octave and still sounded rough, an aftereffect of all the smoke he’d inhaled. “I would not recommend running air tanks down until they start to chime. I’m thankful Cole was with me.”

“It’s painful, knowing the risk you took when she wasn’t even inside.”

“Quinn—” Jack’s voice became grim—“if she had been inside, she’d have been dead. The flames were coalescing to the center of the house, the toxic smoke was as low as my knees. Every room was filled with the smoke; it was pouring through the air-conditioning vents like small chimneys.”

“Arson?”

“The place was soaked in fuel oil. Poured into the ground and soaked into the wood of the patio. It went with the same ferociousness as a natural gas line break would burn.”

“He wanted to kill her, not just scare her.”

“He set the fire while she was out of the house; I don’t think that was an accident. Marcus found a note tucked under the windshield wiper of her car. Go away.”

“The fire was a threat.” Quinn felt sick. There was no more room to escalate but to murder. They had to find this guy. “How’d he start it?”

“Preliminary—a lighter tossed into the flower bed at the back of the house.”

“No one in the neighborhood saw anything?”

“I’m sorry, Quinn. Her immediate neighbors were gone for the weekend, and the patrols that have been watching the neighborhood didn’t see anything out of place. But my gut tells me he stayed. I don’t think he set the fire and left the area. We’re reviewing the news reporter’s tape of the fire to see if there was anyone in the crowd that stands out.”

“She didn’t tell many people she was going to be gone or when she would return.”

“He’s close enough to her to know the details, either directly or second hand.”

He had nowhere to direct the anger he felt. “Why didn’t Lisa smell the fuel oil?”

“It’s like motor oil: once it’s soaked in, it’s not going to be that obvious.

And they were asphalting the driveway three houses down. Even I would have had a hard time separating the smell of fresh asphalt from the faint, lingering smell of fuel oil.” Jack’s voice turned rough. “Quinn, that note. Why does he want her gone? It has to tie to the murders you two have been investigating. Just how close are you to the truth that he would risk such a public action to slow you down?”

“I don’t know. If we’re staring at it already, I don’t know what it is.”

“Find out. Until you do, I don’t know how we’ll stop him.”

“Was there anything salvageable?”

“Kate and I will find out tomorrow once the ruins have cooled down.”

“Don’t tell Lisa what you’ve told me.”

“Not until she’s ready to hear it,” Jack agreed. “I’ll call in the morning.”

“Please do.”

After he said good-bye and hung up the phone, Quinn just stood in the hall, looking unseeing at the floor, weary to the bone. It was almost dawn.

Lisa had had to start over so many times in her life. He didn’t know if she had the reserves to do it again. She’d loved having roots, a place that was hers.

She’d loved that house. She’d needed that house. And now someone had taken it away. She struggled to let herself attach to people, would now add a struggle to let herself attach to another place knowing it could also get ripped away. There were only so many losses a person could take.

“Lord, I want to find whoever did this and rip away what he values most, make him feel the same hurt he inflicted.” Quinn felt the ache settle back in his stomach, like a wound that wouldn’t heal. He’d nearly lost her for a second time. “I’d give my right arm to know how to help her right now.”

There was nothing he could do, that was the harsh part. He wished from the depths of his heart that he could share this ranch with her for more than a few days, he wished he could make her part of it and the roots of this house and land that went back not one generation but four.

“What’s going to help, Lord? She’s hurting. And it’s breaking my heart.”

R

Montana was doing its best to show itself at its finest. The sunset was painting the sky, the temperature was cool but comfortable, the evening breeze faint.

Lisa took a seat on the steps of the porch rather than take a chair.

Quinn gave her the space, leaning against the post of the porch, watching the sunlight fade. The sounds of the night were beginning to rise: the faint sounds of cattle and horses moving around settling for the night, the quiet rising sound of insects.

As peaceful as the night was, Quinn doubted Lisa felt it. Five days.

It was Saturday and she had yet to come out of the silent place where she grieved. Pets like people were mourned. Her face was drawn from lack of sleep. He couldn’t get under that reserve, hadn’t tried. He understood the patience of time.

His mongrel dog with the odd name of Old Blue—cattle smart, loyal to a fault—angled from coming to him to veer toward her, his tail moving slowly back and forth as he stopped near where she sat. Lisa didn’t respond. The dog moved forward, nudged her hand, and rested his muzzle on her knee.

It was a silent standoff between the two of them and Quinn tensed.

Lisa finally reached forward and rubbed the dog’s head.

And Quinn saw the first tear fall.

“Someone burned down my house and killed my pets.”

Sitting on the porch step beside Lisa, Quinn just nodded. “I know.”

She wiped her eyes with one hand, the other continuing to stroke Old Blue’s head. Quinn was relieved that there was life back in her eyes, even if the emotion was primarily anger.

“Someone who had to be following us that day we visited Marla’s grave. And he likes fire. We know that about him now.”

“I had copies of the case files sent out.” He knew the work would help, would give her a safe place to function while she dealt with the emotions.

“I want to see them.”

“Let me get you something to eat first.” She desperately needed some sleep too, but he knew he would get nowhere encouraging that at the moment.

“The files are in the study?”

“The white boxes stacked by the bookcases.”

“I’ll eat as I read.”

He wrapped his hand around hers. “Please, go call the family first.

It will help them—Kate, Rachel, especially Jennifer. And Marcus can fill you in on what he and Jack and Stephen have been able to find out.”

She’d talked to them when they called, but she’d been holding herself so far back from everyone it had made her words seem merely polite.

It had been so hard on them to wait, not to fly out as the days slipped by, to give her the space she wanted.

“I’ll call them.”

Afraid he’d say too much if he stayed, he kissed her forehead, then got up from the porch step beside her.

“Jen, I’m sorry.”

“Please quit apologizing. It’s not necessary. I was absolutely sick when Marcus called to tell me the news.”

Stretched out on the couch in Quinn’s study, her head resting against the armrest, Lisa idly wrapped the phone cord around her finger.

Her family loved her enough to forgive her for being rude. She’d pushed them away for five days and they were still there waiting for her when she came back to her senses. “Someone wanted to kill me, Jen.”

“I know.”

“I’m scared.”

“They’ll find whoever did it.”

She reached over for another Kleenex.

“You never told me why you left the house to go walk around the Lisa hesitated.

“Lizzy? You want to talk about it?”

“Quinn.” She tried not to put all the confusion she felt over the

“I know that too.”

Lisa reached down toward Old Blue and got her hand licked for her trouble. The dog rolled onto his side and she buried her hand in his warm fur. She had a feeling Old Blue wasn’t a house dog, but Quinn had shown up with sandwiches and the dog at his heels. Lisa was pretty sure the dog was hanging out with her because of the food she’d been sharing but felt relieved to have him with her regardless.

“I miss Sidney so much. He was so special. And Iris—” She was crying again and wiped at the tears, furious with herself for having so little control, glad Quinn had given her privacy for this call.

pond.”

man into the word, but it was there.

“I wondered,” Jen said softly. “You two were pretty tight over the weekend.”

“I went for a walk to try and clear my head. A lot of good that did me. If I’d been at the house, I might have been able to save my pets.”

“I wish someone had been able to. I know Jack tried.”

“They would have been terrified in those minutes before they died.”

“I know.”

Lisa forced herself away from the image that had haunted her dreams for days. “Quinn’s being nice. He’s hovering, kind of lost as to what he should do.”

“I gathered that from the conversations I’ve had with him. Do you know what you want him to do?”

She wanted a hug but didn’t know how to ask for one. He was

kind, and there, and wanted so badly for her not to be hurting anymore.

It no longer surprised her that it mattered so much to him.

Under the watchfulness he showed the world, he was a man who was as protective of her as her family. “He loaned me his dog.”

“Did he?”

Lisa rubbed Old Blue’s ears and heard a dog’s version of a sigh of pleasure. “I think he’s going to want him back,” she remarked regretfully.

Jen laughed.

Reality was settling in, and it left an enormous ache in her heart.

“The house is gone, the art. All the scrapbooks. It shouldn’t matter so much, it was just stuff.” But it did. She could remember painting the rooms while Jack painted the ceilings, wallpapering the bathroom, rearranging furniture so many times Marcus wanted to strangle her when she said, “No, I like it better where it was, move it back.”

All the firsts in that house—first dinner party for family, first mortgage payment, first winter snow and shoveling the drive, first flowers in the spring. It was gone, and she was going to have to start over again.

“It was home.”

“It was home,” Lisa agreed. The first one she’d ever really had.

“Marcus said he was dealing with the insurance guy for you?”