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“You mean like a dead body in the woods?”
Neither Young nor Elgin batted an eyelash. They must’ve already been briefed about Rusty Kelly.
Jim asked, “Did you confirm it was arson?”
“Preliminary findings point to arson. We discovered some accelerant at the base of several trees in different areas.”
Scarlett rubbed the goose bumps from her arms, even though the findings didn’t surprise her. Did someone want to kill her or just drive her away? And why?
Jim shot her a glance and asked, “Can you track down who did it? Will it be easy?”
“Depends on what else we discover. If this is a serial arsonist, he’ll probably strike again.”
Scarlett exchanged another glance with Jim. They both knew this was no serial arsonist. She’d been targeted.
“When can Ms. Easton go home?”
“You can go home now, Ms. Easton. Just stay out of the areas cordoned off with yellow tape. We’ll be sifting through the remains. When we’re done, you can clean the place.”
She blew out a breath. “There goes my privacy.”
“I can’t say that bothers me much.” Jim pushed away from the table and joined her at the counter, squeezing her hand. “You’re too isolated back there. Maybe it’ll even improve your cell reception.”
The investigators stood up. “That’s all we have for now. If we discover anything else or need to ask you any more questions, we’ll contact you.”
Jim walked them to the door. When he shut it behind them, he turned and said, “You wanna go home?”
“Yes, it would be nice to put some pants on. And shoes—shoes would be good.”
“You want to put on a pair of my sweatpants for the ride back?”
“Absolutely. That Lady Godiva stuff is okay for the wee hours of the morning, but I could get arrested for that this time of day.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she could feel a surge of warmth in her cheeks. She’d never blushed so much in her entire life than she had these past few days with Jim—must be her heightened sense of awareness...or how he looked in a pair of jeans.
“I have a clean pair of sweats in the bottom drawer of the dresser in the bedroom.”
“I’ll find them.” She made for the bedroom and crouched in front of the dresser, pulling open the last drawer. She plunged her hands into the soft material and her fingers stumbled across some hard, metal objects.
She parted the sweats and sweatshirts and closed her hand around one of the objects, pulling it out of the drawer. She held it up, the dull gold of the medal glinting in the light.
She ran her thumb along the raised lettering on the disc. It was some kind of medal for bravery. She peered into the drawer at the other medals. If he wore every one of them at once, he’d be bowed over from the weight.
These couldn’t all be recognition for surviving and escaping his capture. He’d been a sniper. He must’ve gotten medals for killing people—lots of people.
His imprisonment and torture must’ve gone a long way toward alleviating any guilt he’d felt about that. She stuffed the medals back into the drawer. Somehow she didn’t think Jim would feel guilty about doing his job, about killing the enemy and saving his brothers in arms.
“You ready?”
“Just about.” She snatched up a pair of dark blue sweats and pulled them on. She pushed up the elastic to her calves and cinched the waist as much as she could.
“Ready.” She stepped into the hallway and Jim met her with a helmet.
“I do have this for you.”
She took it from him, tucking it under her arm. As they walked out the front door, Dax revved the engine of a Harley parked next to Jim’s.
“This one’s a beauty. Mind if I keep it for myself?”
“Take what you like, Dax, but leave a couple since I promised Scarlett’s cousin he could buy one.”
Jim flipped up the kickstand on his bike and mounted it. He dipped it to one side. “Hop on.”
With a lot more confidence than this morning, Scarlett hitched one leg over the seat of the bike and settled behind Jim. She even leaned against the backrest, hooking her fingers in Jim’s belt loops, but when he started the bike and rolled onto the road, she grabbed him around the waist.
