Chapter 4

Gracie

Ryan Davenport was an enigma.

One moment he was reminiscing about days past. The next he was clearly checking me out. Maybe it had been wrong to call him out on it, but I knew when a man was staring at my ass. Back at the station it didn"t happen often anymore, except for maybe with the occasional rookie, but I was always aware of such things.

I hadn"t been wrong about that. I was certain of it.

Opening my big mouth had seemed to piss him off. It was kind of humorous. Had I ever seen him lose his control?

No. I hadn"t. I wouldn"t have thought it possible before today.

It gave me a bit of sick pleasure to know I could affect him like that. Served him right. I hated how my body responded to him. It made me feel like a mammal in heat, or at least how I"d imagine that would be. I just wanted to jump his bones every time he was near. The slightest brush of his skin against mine was electrifying, shooting tingles up my arms and down my spine.

Why him? Of all people, why did it have to be Ryan Davenport that set my body on fire? The one man I could never actually be with. He was far too perfect for a screw-up like me.

"What exactly am I looking at?" he asked. "And don"t say the remnants of the fire. Clarence seems to think there"s something special about this or it's somehow connected to several from the preceding days. What did they have in common? What do you think?"

I stopped and stared at him. Did he really just ask my opinion? No one ever truly asked my opinion about anything.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" he asked, wiping at his face and smoothing down his perfectly groomed hair.

He always looked perfect.

"No. I"m just surprised."

"Surprised about what?"

"That you"d actually ask my opinion about all of this."

He scowled. "Clarence told me we should work together on this. I assumed that meant you know what's happening or had some ideas on the issue."

"Well, yeah, but . . ."

"But what?"

"But people don"t usually ask my opinion on stuff like this. I mean, I"m always happy to offer it, but I never really feel like it"s taken seriously."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you feel like you"re not being taken seriously? You"re the first female to make it through firefighter training. You work your ass off to ensure Ravenden is safe. And Clarence would not have assigned you to work with me if he didn"t think you were the best. He's the one that recommended you and I work together and he knows how particular I can be."

"Sorry to break it to you, but you just got the short end of the stick. He assigned me to you to get me out of his hair for a while."

Ryan shook his head. "You"re wrong. You"re good at what you do, Gracie. So do it."

I wanted to assure him I wasn"t, but that wasn"t true. I knew I was damn good at my job. I just wasn"t always sure others believed it, no matter how many times I told them or tried to prove myself. There was just some weird piece of me that needed to argue with this man.

I bit my tongue. "There"s no accelerant," I blurted.

"What?"

"That"s the connection. Each fire was set with a single wooden match left at the scene but with no accelerant. Yet each day the fire has been bigger. Look down. The ring you"re standing in is about five feet in diameter. It"s the biggest yet. But still, no one has been able to determine an accelerant. The only clue truly connecting them is the match, and it"s just a basic wooden match with no way to determine where it came from."

"Yeah, that could literally be from anything. Clarence said his gut tells him they are all connected. Is that the only reason? Because lots of people use matches to start a fire. And up here on the cliff, I mean, we had some pretty big bonfires back in the day. Could it just have been some teens screwing around up here?"

"Look around you. There"s no trash. No beer cans. Nothing."

He did and shrugged. "Maybe this generation is more environmentally conscious than we were?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I"m sure."

"I get it. But we can"t entirely scrap the idea either."

"No, I agree. Right now we need to keep an open mind about everything."

He gulped and somehow his eyes seemed to darken from a light brown, to a brown so dark they almost looked black.

"Everything?" he asked in a husky voice that shot right to my core.

"Y-yes," I stuttered willing my body to calm down.

There was no way Ryan was interested in me, and I sure as hell wasn"t interested in him.

Keep telling yourself that, sister, I thought.

"Yes," I said a little more assuredly. "We should definitely keep an open mind about everything."

Did his eyes darken or had I imagined it?

I licked my lips and his gaze definitely dropped to them.

"Regarding the fires," I clarified, not wanting him to think I was flirting with him.

Was I? No. Absolutely not.

"No footprints or anything?"

"It"s been dry all week. There"s nothing that we"ve been able to find."

He walked around and then bent over and picked up a black feather and held it up.

"It"s Ravenden. There"s going to be feathers everywhere."

"But you said to keep an open mind—about everything."

Was he actually flirting with me?

"We can bag it for evidence," I said.

It was best if we kept this strictly professional.

I liked to play with fire, but I knew that if we continued down this route, I was going to get burned.

"How about the other sites? Can we see those too?"

"Sure. If we"re done here, I can drive us over. We"ll go in reverse order."

"Okay, but can we fly instead?"

Fly with Ryan Davenport?

"No. Why would we? I"ve got my Jeep."

"Because it"s safer," he muttered.

I glared at him. "I"m a good driver, and I"ve never been in an accident before."

"Miracles do happen."

I punched him in the arm. I wasn"t sure what had come over me, but I just hauled back and hit him. It seemed to shock us both. And I desperately struggled to keep the sensations it caused at bay.

"Come on," I said, and this time he didn"t argue with me or mention flying again.

*****

The drive to our next site behind his sister"s diner should have been awkward. Neither of us spoke, yet there was something comfortable in the silence. That probably unnerved me more than the tension would have.

He frowned when I pulled to a stop and got out.

"What"s wrong?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He looked back at The Diner and I knew what he was thinking before he even opened his mouth. It hadn"t even been a full year since a kitchen fire had nearly burned the place down and here we were investigating possible arson just a few yards away.

"Nothing happened," I assured him.

"I know. It"s just a bit too close for comfort."

"It"s over here," I said, not really knowing how to handle the vulnerability I sensed in him.

He quietly followed me toward the site. In the center of the field was a ring of ash about three feet wide.

Ryan was stoic as he looked around.

"This entire field should have burned."

"Yeah, it should have. There were signs of wet ground around the burn site. It hasn"t rained, so we assume he did it."

"Why would someone attempt a fire on wet ground? It"s close to the road. Are we sure it wasn"t just a cigarette or something? Maybe with a drink or something?"

"That was a thought at first, but it doesn"t account for the wet ground."

"Possible coincidence? Like someone dumped a drink out the window and then someone else came by and flicked a cigarette out?"

"That"s a lot of coincidences, and none of us even believe in coincidences, but also no one could find any trace of a cigarette butt, only . . ."

"A wooden matchstick," he said, quietly finishing my sentence for me.

"Exactly."

He started looking around, sifting through the grass that was already beginning to dry out from the sun.

"What are you looking for?"

"Feathers."

I huffed and fought not to roll my eyes.

"They"re so common around here that they aren"t even admissible. Besides, as far as I know, there"s no way to link a feather back to the actual bird."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

He leaned down and retrieved a single black feather and triumphantly held it up before putting it into a Ziploc bag and pulling out a pen to label it.

"I guess you"ll be an expert on forensic science before you know it."

He just grinned.

"What?" I demanded.

"I majored in forensic science. Always thought I"d be a cop."

"Really? I don"t see it."

"Why"s that?"

"I don"t know. I mean, you exude authority, but you"re such a politician."

"I"m not sure if that"s an insult or a compliment."

"Take it how you will." I shrugged.

"Wait, there were no footsteps here despite the rain?"

"None. It"s possible whoever did this set it and took off just before the rain. I think the rain may have thwarted his plans."

"But how do you know it was a he?"

I shrugged. "Stereotypically, according to statistics, pyromaniacs are more likely to be male."

"But not always, and we"re keeping an open mind."

"Yeah, but statistics don"t lie, so it's not guaranteed but just more probably a male."

"Have you profiled him yet?"

I shrugged. "Male between the ages of sixteen and twenty-eight, more likely an unskilled worker who"s either sexually or socially awkward, often an alcoholic, and almost always has low self-esteem."

"You"re just quoting the textbooks now."

"But that"s a stereotype for a reason. Did you really study forensic science?"

"I did. And what I learned is that you take that stereotype as nothing more than a starting point. We"re going to weigh these categories a little higher in our early investigation, but also, we"re going to keep our options open—all our options."

I wasn"t always the most aware of the opposite sex, but I was pretty sure I was not imagining the innuendos he was tossing my way. The question became . . . what was I going to do about it?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. This was insane, or I was just dreaming because Ryan and I had absolutely nothing in common and I was not interested in even a fling with him.

Nope, not in the least.