Flash Point Read online

  Emma flipped through other snapshots before refastening the envelope and setting it aside. Rummaging farther into the drawer, she found a framed five-by-seven photograph. She held it up to the light, smiling at her and her grandfather together, her arm around his waist, his around her shoulders. Walt Kincaid, with his shock of white hair and comfortable belly, had beamed into the camera. The familiar wave of grief had Emma sniffling as she set the photo on a corner of the desk.

  Another envelope revealed old snapshots of her grandparents together, some from when her mother was a little girl. Emma stared at her mother; the date on the border of the photo indicating Trudy would have been six years old. She wondered if there had been any hints at that early age of the difficult life her mother would lead. Shuffling the photos, she found one of her grandmother. Intrigued, she studied the images. Her grandmother and her mother had shared the gray eyes Emma had inherited.

  Stretching her back, Emma glanced at her phone to check the time, then grimaced at the late hour. With a mug of tea in her hand, she took the stack of unopened letters to her bedroom. Extremely grateful to have the electricity on, she turned on the lamp on her nightstand and crawled under covers. She rested her pillow against the headboard and sat against the headboard with her cup of tea to read through the correspondence.

  The first letter from the developer had been friendly and suggested that Walter Kincaid call the number listed at the top and discuss an offer for the property. Emma flipped over the page and saw her grandfather’s spidery script on the back. He’d noted that a representative from Great Mountain Developments had called and again made an offer for the resort. She smiled when she saw the “No Way” written in capital letters and underlined three times.

  She sifted through the rest of the mail and found nothing noteworthy. The Great Mountain representatives had been persistent, requesting phone calls or face-to-face meetings that had apparently never happened. The letters had come even after her grandfather’s death until eventually stopping about a month before her arrival. She wondered if they’d finally given up.

  When her eyes drooped with fatigue, she placed the letters in the drawer of her nightstand. She brushed her teeth in the tiny bathroom and then crawled sleepily back into bed. Within minutes she was sound asleep.

  Emma awoke with a jolt. She pushed down the covers and propped herself up on her elbows. Picking up her phone, she checked the time. 12:47 a.m. A light wind blew through the pine trees outside her window. Was that what had broken her sleep? She liked the sound, kind of like the ocean. She lay back and pulled the blanket to her chin. The only thing she missed about Los Angeles was proximity to the beach. She had spent many lovely evenings walking along the shore, watching the sun sink into the horizon. Well, here she could watch the sun set behind the mountains. Maybe she would take one of the canoes out on the lake some evening. She’d bet at dusk she’d be able to see deer along the shore.

  Drifting again, Emma jerked awake once more, heart racing. There had been a thud and then a scraping noise. The sounds reached her clearly and were not her imagination. They came from outside, not real close though it was hard to tell the direction. Could Dory be out at this time of night? Emma shoved back the covers and pulled on her hooded sweatshirt. She felt around for her shearling boots and pulled them on, shoving her phone into the pocket of her flannel pants before moving to the window. She eased the curtain aside and peered through.

  The window looked out across the road that ran through the cabins. The night was bright with a full moon casting shadows across the landscape. Dory and Adrian’s cabin was farther up the road and obscured by trees. She could make out the dull glint of the metal roof but no light from inside. She wondered if it could be Rodrigo, if he could possibly have found out so quickly where his wife and son were living. Or maybe it was a bear.

  Not able to see anything, she moved swiftly through the cabin to the kitchen door. She opened it a crack to look around, grabbed the flashlight she’d left on the counter, and slipped through to stand in the shadow of the porch. She would check out the noise. If it was a bear, she’d let it be and hopefully it would move on. She ignored Brad’s voice in her head insisting she call him if she needed help. Relying on anyone, particularly law enforcement went against the grain, so she’d figure out whether the noises were human made before making that call.

  Even with nerves humming, Emma couldn’t help but notice the spectacular light. Through the trees moonlight reflected silver on the lake surface. The breeze had grown in strength, and now gusts tossed the tops of towering pines to and fro. Another sound, not the wind, more like heavy metal objects clanking dully, echoed from across the road. The garage, Emma thought.

  Not risking the flashlight, she pulled up her hood for warmth and moved soundlessly through the trees. Hidden in the shadow of a thick trunk, she could see the wide garage door was closed. An intruder could have entered via the access door at the back. A flicker of movement caught her attention. Through the window a beam of light, maybe from a flashlight, cut through the darkness.

  Human, not bear.

  Could it possibly be Dory? Had she needed something for her cabin and hoped to find it in the garage? No. Dory would have waited until morning. And she would have turned on the garage light. Someone had broken into Emma’s property. Her pulse beat an angry tattoo in her ears. This place was her home, and her chance at a better future. And some thief thought he could steal her blind.

  She pulled out her phone, then hesitated. If she tried to call the cops now, the light from her phone might be seen from inside the garage.

  She eyed the terrain. A dense grouping of pines about twenty feet from the back of the garage would offer cover and allow her to see if the thief came out the back door. She only had to run through an open space lit by the full moon. Piece of cake. Not giving herself time to change her mind, Emma crouched low and ran.

  She sprinted through the clearing, eyes focused on her goal. A black shadow, darker than the rest, detached from the corner of the building. She reacted in an instant, but it was an instant too late. She dodged, tried to brace for impact, and was taken down in a diving roll to under the garage window. Her attacker took the brunt of the fall, and Emma landed heavily against a solid body, her flashlight knocked from her grip. Heart slamming in her throat, adrenaline kicked in and she scrambled to disentangle arms and legs. She bit back a scream. She couldn’t bring Dory rushing into trouble. Struggling desperately, she tried to dislodge a wide palm that closed over her mouth.

  “Dammit, Emma. It’s me.”

  Emma stilled instantly. Brad’s arms tightened around her as she sagged against him and relief washed through her. He rolled and took them farther under the shadow of the eaves. He pulled her up with him into a crouching position, an arm around her shoulders. Voice low, his lips moved against her ear as he spoke. “There’s one man inside and the back door is open. I’ve been watching for an accomplice but haven’t spotted anyone. I think he’s alone.”

  Even in shadow Emma could see Brad scanning the terrain. The hand cupped at the back of her head pulled her closer. He whispered, “I called for backup but dispatch said there’s an accident out on the highway and all our cars are out there. She’ll peel one away, but it’ll be a few minutes before it gets here.”

  He paused, breath warm on her cheek. He cocked his head, listening, a finger to his lips. Then she could hear it too, a whooshing sound from inside the garage. Brad reacted instantaneously, pushing Emma to the ground, his body covering her. The window above them exploded. Glass shattered outward and flames shot from the window.

  On his feet in seconds, he pulled her with him away from the burning building.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  Leaning against a boulder, he shook glass from his hair. “I will be when I get this guy.”

  Emma caught a shadowed movement. A large form lumbered from behind the garage toward the dirt road. “Brad, there he is.”

  H
e gripped her arm. “Call in the fire. I’m going after this bastard.” He raced away, a shadow streaking through the night.

  After pulling out her phone to punch in 9-1-1, she answered the dispatcher’s questions, verifying that she wasn’t in any danger but that the police chief might be. Assured that help was on its way, she used her phone’s flashlight as she ran back toward her cabin. She’d remembered seeing a long hose coiled beside the porch. Reaching her destination, she pocketed her phone and turned the spigot, then began pulling the hose toward the garage. In the distance, a wailing siren sounded over the snap of the fire. Some of her tension eased. Hopefully it was the patrol car sent by police dispatch. They’d be able to help Brad.

  Getting as close to the ferocious heat as she dared, she directed water through the garage window. She tamped down on worry over Brad facing a vicious criminal who could be armed. Why had he been at her place? Whatever the reason, she was infinitely relieved she hadn’t had to face the night’s events alone.

  Agonizingly long minutes later, the deep siren of a fire engine pierced the night, and red lights flickered through the trees. Two fire vehicles pulled up with a roar, parking in front of the office and disgorging men and women in protective gear. Bright lights on the trucks lit the scene and they began to unload equipment and attach fire hoses to the tanker. In short order water was directed at the garage where smoke billowed into the dark sky to smudge out the stars. Emma backed away and returned to her cabin to turn off the water.

  She stood at the far side of the road, feet damp and hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt, trying to suppress the shudders shaking her body while she watched the dying fire. The night was busy with the chatter of radios and fire personnel calling to one another. The firefighter who had checked on her, asking questions about the fire and what was stored in the garage, was on the radio. By the time Brad joined her she was shivering uncontrollably. Arms folded tightly in front of her, she searched his face in the light from the fire truck. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, coming to stand in front of her. When she continued to shake, he muttered, “Come here,” and pulled her toward him, enfolding her in long arms.

  Emma held her body rigid against the unexpected embrace, but as he rubbed her back in a soothing motion, she gave in to the comfort and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his chest. He pulled the edges of his coat snugly around her and rested his cheek on top of her head. Another spasm rocked her and she burrowed into his warmth.

  “It’s the adrenaline,” he murmured against her hair.

  “I feel cold,” she mumbled.

  “It’s adrenaline crash. It gives you the shakes.”

  Emma thought about it. “Oh.” Whatever had caused the trembling, being held so securely against Bradley Gallagher was more comforting than anything she had ever known. The shaking eased.

  “It’ll take these guys a while to mop up. The fire marshal should be here soon. I’m going to run our arsonist in, see what I can learn.”

  She tipped her head back to peer into his face. “You got him?”

  Brad gave a sharp laugh. “Don’t act so surprised. Of course I got him. He’s cuffed and in my truck. I have an officer on him.”

  Emma frowned. “Why did he set fire to my garage? If he wanted to steal some tools or something, I could understand him breaking in. But arson? That doesn’t make sense.”

  A patrol car pulled up the road and Brad loosened his hold and stepped back, eyes still on Emma. “He’s taken his Mirandizing to heart and clammed up. But I’ll work on him and figure that out.”

  He waved the officer over, then told Emma, “Go let Dory know everything is all right. I’ll be back when I can.”

  ***

  Brad studied the man sitting across from him, one wrist handcuffed to a metal bar at the end of the scarred table. William “Wild Bill” Randall fit neatly into the same mold as dozens of others just like him: drug addiction leading to a life of petty crime, always on the lookout for his next hustle, and stints in jail on the county dime. At age forty-six, going flabby around the middle and with his blond hair turning to gray, Brad wondered if the man ever considered how he’d pissed his life away. Probably not.

  He nodded to the man, then tipped his head to the camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. “I’m Chief Gallagher. This interview is being recorded per regulation.”

  Brad opened a secure site on his iPad and perused Randall’s record, noting that while the guy was a dumbass and got into dumbass trouble, there were no convictions for violent acts, and no history of arson. That fact solidified Brad’s assessment.

  He scooted his seat back a couple inches so he could cross one booted foot over his knee. “Quite a rap sheet you got here, Bill.”

  The other man shrugged, tugging on his manacled arm. “Can’t you take this thing off me? It ain’t dignified bein’ chained like a dog.”

  “Not much dignity in B and E and arson, if you’re worried about dignity.”

  “Who said I did B and E and arson? You got the wrong guy.”

  “I got the right guy, Bill, because I’m the guy who tackled your sorry ass when you bolted out of that garage.”

  “You got no proof.”

  “Got my own two eyes. That’s all the proof I need. And it’s all the proof a jury will need. How much you get paid to do it?” The truth flashed in the bloodshot eyes, and Brad knew his hunch was correct.

  “Get paid to do what?” Bill hedged.

  “To torch that garage. Keep up.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You got nothing.”

  Brad leaned forward. “Listen close, because how you respond is going to determine your future.” When he was sure he had Bill’s attention, Brad continued. “Your history is all petty shit, just enough to keep you in dope. But this time you upped the game. My guess? Someone offered you money that made your eyes glaze over and you took it. Torch the garage, take the fast money, and you’d be rolling in dope for the next little while. Problem is, you got caught.”

  “That ain’t true. You don’t know that.”

  “You know why the guys with the money pay poor saps like you to do their dirty work, to light the match? It’s so they’re not the ones going to prison. And that’s where you’ll end up, because arson gets a lot longer stint than stealing a ten-year-old’s bike, which is what you did the last time you were arrested.”

  “I didn’t steal it. I told the judge, but he didn’t believe me. The bike wasn’t locked up or anything.”

  “Right. The girl had ridden it to the Little League field for practice. Not much dignity in stealing from a kid.”

  Bill ran his free hand over his stubbly beard. “I didn’t steal it, and I didn’t take money to start no fire.” There wasn’t much effort behind the words.

  “You give me the name of whoever hired you, and the judge may go easy on you.”

  “I want my lawyer.”

  Brad sighed. He’d milked it as long as he could, but now he’d have to go through some jackleg lawyer to work out a plea. “Lawyer will take some time, and he’s not going to show up soon enough to keep you out of jail for a couple of days. You might want to talk to me straight.”

  Bill thumped his chest, and Brad didn’t miss the calculating expression. “I’m not feeling so good, Chief. I got a bad ticker. I need to see a doc.”

  Brad had to hand it to the guy, he knew all the ins and outs of the system. Resigned, he pulled out his phone and made the call to get transport to the hospital arranged. “Think about what I said, Bill. You can take the fall for whoever hired you and end up doing a stint for felony arson, or you can give me a name and we can work the charges down to a misdemeanor.”

  ***

  Emma sat in Dory’s kitchen, drinking hot tea. She glanced at the little clock with a frog face on the windowsill. Three in the morning. With Adrian still asleep they talked in soft voices. Amazingly, the boy had slept through all the noise of sirens and radios. Looking
through the kitchen window, Emma saw the fire crew still busy with the cleanup. She’d been told one truck would remain with its crew to make sure there were no flare-ups. Even in the cabin Emma smelled the harsh odor left by the fire.

  A muted knock sounded on the kitchen door and Dory rose to open it. Emma looked up to see Brad framed in the doorway, his presence imposing in the bright light as he entered the room. Dirt smudged his navy police coat, and his jeans sported a tear at one knee. His watchful gaze locked on hers.

  Strong, capable, in command. Emma had never been susceptible to the type, but something about those qualities in Brad made him seem almost perfect. She found herself pulling in a deep breath to slow her pulse. Their escalating attraction made her mind go blank, and had her fumbling to say something to cover the sudden awareness. “Did the guy say anything?” she blurted out. “Did he tell you why he set fire to my garage?”

  Brad shrugged. “His name is Bill Randall. He’s a low-level, habitual offender from Bishop. He’s just bright enough to know how to work the system.” He rubbed his chin where dark stubble cast a shadow. “Right now, Bill’s in the hospital claiming chest pains. I’ll question him again in the morning.”

  Dory, dressed in a pretty blue robe, spoke. “Could this be connected to Rodrigo?”

  Brad shook his head. “I don’t think so. Tomorrow I’ll have Sacramento PD verify Rodrigo is still at his brother’s house and I’ll let you know. But I don’t think you need to worry.” He smiled at her. “And thanks for calling me when you heard suspicious noises, Dory.” The look he shot Emma was as good as a reprimand.

  Dory gave him a firm smile. “Can I make you some coffee, Brad?”

  At his grateful thanks, Dory filled the coffeemaker while Emma sat thinking through what he’d said. “How did this Randall guy get here? I can’t believe he walked out here from town.”

  “We found his car parked down the road. In addition to drug paraphernalia, he had a pay stub from an auto shop in Bishop. I’ll follow up when they open, see if the employees can tell me anything.”