Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Coughs racking her body, Jina was horrified she couldn’t see anything through the thick haze of smoke. Stumbling through the living room, she called out to Mr. Glen until nothing more than a hoarse croak emerged.

“Jina!” She turned blindly when Cole grabbed her arm. “There’s an older guy outside walking with a cane!”

Mr. Glen used a cane, but there were several older residents in this neighborhood. She didn’t want to leave but somehow found herself back at the broken window with Cole at her side. Filling her lungs with fresh air, or at least somewhat fresher air than what was inside the house, she peered at the older man standing on the sidewalk.

Mr. Glen! He was safe! And for the first time in her life, she silently added, Thank You, God.

“Jina? What’s going on?” She heard Mr. Glen’s confused voice as Cole pushed her through the window.

Still coughing, she tumbled out of the house, then ran toward her landlord. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, wrapping her arms around the older man .

“I’m glad you are too,” he said, patting her back. “How did the fire start? Did you burn something in the kitchen?”

“Not me. I wasn’t here.” She glanced briefly at Cole who’d come to stand beside them. “I was with Cole; we were coming back for my phone.” She coughed again, then added, “I was worried you were still inside.”

“We’re glad you’re not hurt,” Cole added.

“I went out for my usual walk,” Mr. Glen said, staring in shock at the burning home. “I don’t understand how this happened.”

She had a very bad feeling this was no accident. And if she hadn’t come back for her phone, she wouldn’t have known anything about it. Before she could ask Mr. Glen more questions, the sirens grew louder. Soon a long fire truck lumbered up the road toward the duplex, pulling to a stop along the curb.

She took Mr. Glen’s arm and led him farther down the street from the burning building, so they were out of the way. She hadn’t been in the house for long, but even that much exposure made her lungs feel like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together with each breath.

“I don’t like this,” Cole muttered beside her. “It’s almost as if the arsonist waited for Mr. Glen to leave before starting the place on fire.”

“You think it’s arson too?” She believed the same. “But if this is the shooter, what’s the point of starting the place on fire?”

“Maybe he didn’t realize you were gone,” Cole pointed out. “He could have started the fire on the lower level to trap you upstairs.”

She seethed with anger but tried not to show it. She was usually calm in a crisis. Even if she was the intended target, she needed to think logically about their next steps .

Earlier that morning, she’d called Rhy to let him know about the attempts against her and contacted the tow truck for her Jeep. Then she had started a list of perps she’d arrested over the past six months. The team’s tech expert, Gabe Melrose, had agreed to begin vetting them through his various databases.

Now the perp had taken things to the next level. And the worst part was that Mr. Glen would suffer the most.

Wrestling back her temper, she turned to the older man. “Mr. Glen, we’ll put you up in the closest hotel. You won’t have to worry about anything, okay?” She eyed Cole who thankfully nodded in agreement. “We’ll take care of paying for the room.”

“No, no.” Mr. Glen waved that away. “My daughter lives in Ravenswood. I can stay with her.”

She remembered him mentioning a daughter but had never met the woman. “Are you sure? The repairs here could take a while.” From what she remembered from her teammate Raelyn’s fire, months at the very least.

“I’m sure.” Mr. Glen shrugged. “She’s been asking me to live with her for a while now. I guess this is a sign from God that it’s time.”

Despite her instinctive prayer, she wanted to scoff at the idea. Then again, things could be worse. She would never have forgiven herself if anything had happened to Mr. Glen. Maybe staying with his daughter was the right thing to do.

“We’ll be glad to drop you off,” Cole said. “We can leave here anytime.”

“Yes. That would help.” Mr. Glen turned from the fire, as if he couldn’t bear to watch it a moment longer. His voice was low and gruff as he added, “Thank you.”

She lifted her tortured gaze to Cole’s. He offered a reassuring smile, but it didn’t help her feel any better. This was obviously her fault. The perp who’d taken shots at her and chased her into a farm field had come here to set this fire. She didn’t care if he’d waited until Mr. Glen was out of the building on his morning walk.

She wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d tossed him behind bars, hopefully for the rest of his life. In her mind, this fire was attempted murder.

“Excuse me, are you the property owner?” A tall man with short blond hair crossed toward them. Recognizing arson investigator Mitch Callahan, she urged Mr. Glen forward. “Hey, Mitch. This is Mr. Glen Gleason. He is the property owner. I rent the upper-level flat from him.”

“Mr. Gleason, I’m sorry for your loss,” Mitch said, taking the older man’s hand gently in his. “I’m arson investigator Mitch Callahan, and I’m here to figure out what happened.”

“Someone torched it,” Mr. Glen said curtly, getting some of his spunk back.

“Yes, I believe so.” Mitch held the older man’s gaze. “I suspect turpentine was used as the accelerant here. Do you keep turpentine around?”

“Yes, in the garage.” Mr. Glen scowled. “You saying this guy used my stuff to set my house on fire?”

“It looks that way. Can you answer a few more questions for me?” Mitch asked. “Once that’s done, the Red Cross can help find a place for you to stay.” Mitch glanced at her. “For you, too, Jina.”

“I’m fine.” She wouldn’t burden the Red Cross; they existed mostly on charitable donations. She made a decent living and would figure something out. “Mr. Glen has a daughter in Ravenswood he can stay with, but it wouldn’t hurt for him to talk to the Red Cross too. Especially if he can’t move back home for a long period of time.”

“No need, I’ll be fine with my daughter,” Mr. Glen said firmly.

She curled her fingers into fists, imagining squaring off with the arsonist in the kickboxing ring. It would be extremely satisfying to plant her foot in his face.

Mitch asked Mr. Glen several questions, most of which he couldn’t answer. When she explained about the shooting incident outside Mike’s MMA gym, followed by the game of tag on the interstate, Mitch turned all his attention on her.

“Is there a police report on file?” Mitch asked, once she’d explained what had transpired.

“Yes, but the incidents took place in different jurisdictions.” She grimaced. “The state patrol and Brookland.”

“That’s fine, I’ll reach out to both entities.” Mitch glanced between her and Cole. “Do you have any leads? Anyone in mind for the person behind this?”

“I sent a list of perps I arrested to my boss, Rhy Finnegan,” she said. “It could be one of them, or it could be a man by the name of Rory Glick.”

“Glick?” Mitch repeated as he jotted a note. “What’s his deal?”

She sighed, wishing she didn’t have to repeat the story. It wasn’t one of her best moments. She never should have gone to the party with Rory in the first place. They’d had a few drinks, which had also been stupid. “He tried to rape me in college. I smashed a laptop against his head, called the police, and testified against him. He’s on the sexual offender registry.”

Mitch’s expression turned sympathetic, which only made her mad. Maybe she’d made mistakes, but she’d also managed to fight back. Not just against Rory but firing at the hoodie stalker too. She wasn’t helpless, and she resented anyone thinking she was.

“Wow, I’m surprised you didn’t beat him to a pulp,” Mitch said.

His comment almost made her smile. “I would be more than capable of that now, but the incident was a long time ago. Before I joined the police academy.”

They discussed various possibilities for a few minutes before Mitch closed his notebook. “You’ve given me a great place to start. Please keep me in the loop if this guy makes another attempt against you.”

“Sure.” Rhy had given her the same instruction. The list of people that were becoming embroiled in this mess was growing longer by the second.

True to his word, Cole drove Mr. Glen to Ravenswood. Seeing how concerned his daughter Olivia was when she greeted her father made Jina feel a little better about the situation. Especially since Mr. Glen wasn’t the target.

She was.

As they backed out of the driveway, she grabbed Cole’s arm. “Hold on. We can’t do this.”

“Do what?” He looked confused.

“Interview Shelly.” She tightened her grip. “We don’t know who this guy is, and he might follow us out there. I refuse to put my pregnant sister and her husband in danger.”

He sighed, then reluctantly nodded. “We’ll talk to her over the phone, then.”

She wanted to protest but forced a nod. The least she could do was to compromise on this. A phone call was far better than showing up on Shelly’s doorstep.

And if she had her way, Shelly’s husband, Greg, would take her sister on an impromptu vacation until they had this perp behind bars.

After seeing the fire raging out of control, Cole understood Jina’s concern about putting her sister in harm’s way but doubted his boss would agree. Phone interviews were not nearly as good as talking to someone face-to-face.

A video call? It may help, but not by much.

This immediate threat to Jina overshadowed a ten-year-old cold case. He could tell himself the arson and gunshots targeting her wasn’t his problem, but it didn’t matter.

He was involved whether he liked it or not. Yes, the dead guy deserved justice but so did Jina.

And Mr. Glen.

Besides, for all he knew, the perp who’d smashed the dead man’s skull could already be in prison. Or dead. It made more sense to focus on the more recent attempts against Jina.

“Okay, let’s grab breakfast and regroup,” he said. “Our breakfast sandwiches are cold and so is the coffee. I don’t know about you, but I think more clearly on a full stomach.”

“Yeah, I’m hungry too.” She stared out the window for a moment. “Have you ever tried Rosie’s Diner?”

“No, where is it?”

“Not far from here. Turn left at the next set of lights.” She glanced at him. “You’ll love it. Rosie makes the best pastries on the planet.”

“Sounds good to me.” He followed her directions until he was in front of a small restaurant with a half-full parking lot. “Does she serve breakfast this late? It’s going on eleven. ”

“Yes, trust me.” She flashed another rare smile. “Breakfast is her specialty.”

“I’m game.” He fought to keep his tone light, even though he felt himself sinking deeper under Jina’s spell. Not that she had given him a single ounce of encouragement or acted remotely interested in him on a personal level.

No, this was on him. He needed to get this weird attraction to her under control. And quick.

Before he made a fool of himself. He could just imagine himself lying on his back on the gym floor, staring up at Jina’s satisfied smirk at putting him there. Like every other guy before him. Irrationally, that image only made him want to kiss her.

Maybe he was losing his mind. Shaking his head he followed her inside the restaurant. The scent of apple and cinnamon perked him up.

“Jina, lass, it’s wonderful to see you!” A round woman with a distinct Irish brogue and the brightest red hair he’d ever seen hustled over to greet them.

“Hi, Rosie. I was just telling Cole all about you.”

“Ach, you flatter me.” The redhead eyed him critically. “Aye, lad, Cole is it? That’s a fine Irish name.” She winked. “Any friend of Jina’s is a friend of mine. I hope you’re hungry. I have a fresh batch of apple turnovers hot from the oven.”

“Apple turnovers?” His mouth watered. “I’d love one!”

Rosie let out a delighted laugh and gestured to an open booth. “Have a seat, then while I fetch the coffee and pastries.”

He waited for Jina to choose a booth, then slid across from her. “I hope Rosie’s cooking is as good as it smells.”

“It’s better.” She waved a hand at the restaurant. “Usually it’s packed, but we’re here later than usual. Rosie’s is a fan favorite of the tactical team.” She frowned. “Now that I think about it, Rhy mentioned learning about the place from his brother Colin. Ironically, he’s a firefighter, and I think Mitch is their cousin. I really hate that Mr. Glen might lose his duplex over this.”

“Hey. Mr. Glen will be okay.” He reached across the table to take her hand. “He seems pretty resilient.”

“He wouldn’t be in this predicament if not for me.” She held his hand for a brief moment, then pulled away as Rosie returned with a coffeepot and two steaming apple turnovers.

Rosie set one in front of each of them then filled their cups. “There now, just let me know when you’re ready to order.”

“I’ll have the full Irish,” Jina said, before he’d had the chance to look at the menu.

“Ditto.” He picked up his fork and tried the turnover. The pastry melted in his mouth. “Wow. This is the best turnover I’ve ever tasted.”

“Told you.” Jina took a bite too. “All of Rosie’s baked goods are awesome, but her cinnamon rolls are the best.”

“We’ll have to come back to try them,” he said, before realizing how that sounded. “I mean, now that you’ve shown me the restaurant, I’ll be back.”

“I’m sure your girlfriend will love it too.” She sipped her coffee. “We should talk about the case. I understand you want to talk to Shelly in person, but I don’t want to risk this guy finding her. We could try a halfway point, but only if I’m convinced it’s safe.”

He nodded. “First, I don’t have a girlfriend. My wife, Renee, died of an aggressive form of leukemia three years ago. I’m not interested in dating. Second, I think we can start by doing a video call with your sister. Yes, I’d prefer to talk to her in person, but we’ll start with the call to protect her. Third, I need that list of perps you put behind bars so we can narrow down our suspect pool.”

She sat back in the seat, eyeing him thoughtfully. “You’re rather methodical in your approach to investigations.”

“Yep. And I get good results.” Most of the time anyway. No detective solved every case that dropped on their desk. He hoped the cold case wouldn’t be one of the unsolvable ones. “Any other questions?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry to hear about your wife. That must have been difficult.”

“It was. Renee was amazing.” He stared down at his coffee for a moment. “We weren’t that religious at the time, but when she died, she looked up at something in the distance and whispered about how beautiful it was before taking her last breath.” He still got goose bumps when he remembered that moment. “I believe she’s in a much better place.”

“I, uh, that’s interesting.” She grimaced, then said, “We never went to church, and my dad didn’t say anything like that when he died. He was angry about his heart attack and having to sell the farm. I often wonder...” She didn’t finish.

“Faith is an interesting concept,” he said after a long moment. “I understand that it’s not easy to believe in God when you can’t see Him or smell Him. But I will say that since I’ve started praying, I feel Him near me. That’s what keeps my faith alive.”

“Hard to imagine God would allow so many bad things to happen,” she said with a shrug. “But I’m glad your faith works for you.”

“It’s difficult because the Devil walks among us,” he agreed. Then he decided to change the subject. “Tell me about those names. Any of them jump to the top of the list?”

“No. I’ll send it to you once I have a new phone. Or access to a computer.” She straightened. “I forgot; my laptop is in my overnight bag.” She moved as if to stand, but he waved her off.

“Don’t rush out now. We’ll have time to look at the list in more detail when we’re finished.” At the rate these attacks were coming—three in a matter of hours—he wasn’t letting her out of his sight anytime soon. “I was just curious if anyone specific jumped out at you. Someone who made it a point to threaten you.”

“Most perps make threats.” She sipped her coffee, then shrugged. “There was no one that stood out as being angry enough to come after me the moment they were released from jail. Especially if you consider this guy has shot at me, followed me in a car, and started a fire.”

“Yeah, starting a fire is not common for most perps seeking revenge.” He stopped from saying more as Rosie delivered their meals. The full Irish was more food than he’d expected, but it looked incredible. “Thanks, Rosie.”

“Enjoy.” Rosie scurried off to her next customer.

Jina looked at him expectantly. He rubbed his face, wondering if he had apple turnover crumbs on his lips. “What?”

“I figured you were going to pray.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Many of my teammates are believers, so I usually hold back scarfing my food until they’ve said grace.”

“Ah, well, sure.” He didn’t usually pray before meals, but since she’d mentioned it, he figured this was a good time to thank God for keeping them safe. “Lord Jesus, we are grateful for this wonderful food we are about to eat. We thank You for keeping Mr. Glen and both of us safe in Your care. Amen.”

Jina gave a curt nod but didn’t echo the prayer. Instead, she dug into her meal with gusto. After witnessing the vigor in which she worked out at the MMA gym, he wasn’t surprised she could put a meal away like an offensive lineman.

They ate in silence, enjoying the meal. He understood why Jina had suggested the place. He’d never had a full Irish breakfast and knew he’d have to return at some point to try the rest of Rosie’s menu. Especially her baked goods.

When Rosie brought the bill, he quickly grabbed it. Jina scowled, but he shook his head. “My treat. You’re only here because I need to talk to your sister.”

“Yeah, well, that move may have saved my life,” she said somberly.

He gave Rosie his credit card. She returned a few minutes later, beaming at them. “Ach, don’t be a stranger now, Cole. You either, lass. I hope you’ll come back very soon.”

“I promise,” he said with a smile. “Best meal ever.”

“Ach, flattery will get you two coffees to go if you’d like,” Rosie said with a laugh.

She hurried off to fill a couple of to-go cups. He eyed Jina as they waited. “I don’t want you to be upset or think I’m trying anything funny, but we should head to my place to call Shelly.” As her gaze narrowed, he sighed. “If you’d prefer to head to the Peabody Police Department, that’s fine too. It’s not as private as I’d like. Not that I believe your sister will reveal any big dark secrets,” he hastily added.

She waited until Rosie brought their cups, then rose to her feet. “Okay, we’ll head to your place. For now.”

“Great.” He was glad she trusted him at least this much. It burned to know two different men had betrayed her—one stalker and the other attempting to sexually assault her.

Hard to blame her for being cautious.

Once they were settled in the SUV, he drove toward Peabody. She rummaged in the overnight bag, pulling out a laptop.

“Do you mind if I use your phone as a hot spot?” she asked, booting it up.

“Ah, sure.” He made the hot spot available to her. “Can I give you my email address?”

“Yes.” She typed as he spoke. “Email sent.”

Before he could respond, his phone rang. She quickly ended the hot spot connection so he could answer it. Seeing the ME’s number on the screen, he considered sending the call to voice mail. Then he decided to accept the call. “This is Detective Roberts.”

“Dr. Swain from the ME’s office. You asked for an update, so I thought I’d call.”

“Were you able to match our vic’s dental records?”

“Not yet, I’m waiting for them to come in. But I did find some clothing remnants that might be of interest.”

“Clothing remnants?” He glanced at Jina. “I figured there was nothing left after all this time. Most clothing decomposes within five years.”

“That’s true, but in this particular case, the perp was wearing a synthetic fleece, which can take a very long time to decompose. Especially since it appears a wool blanket was wrapped around the body. There were some woolen threads that were found with the bits of fleece.”

His stomach knotted as the realization hit. “Fleece, as in a sweatshirt?”

“Yes, that’s correct. A black hoodie sweatshirt to be exact. We have the eyelets from the string that went around the hood and several patches of black fleece that had not decomposed yet.”

A black hoodie sweatshirt. Just like the one Jina’s stalker had worn.

A cold chill washed over him. Was he wrong about her?

Jina was a tough cop, able to hold her own even in the face of a personal attack. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine her slamming a bat or some other blunt object into the stalker’s head to kill him, then hiding his body on the outskirts of the farm where she believed no one would ever find him.

Until now.