“Devyn, it’s Walt.”
My attention zeroed in as soon as I heard Walt’s voice. He was the fire chief at one of the stations over on the other end of town. We worked together often and his current fire investigator was on leave while he took care of his ailing mother. I’d been helping to pick up the slack while Gerald was out of town.
All thoughts of Bolo and his club—which had been plaguing me all night long—took a back seat to Walt’s tone. “Hey, Walt.” Normally, I’d address him in a more formal way, a way befitting his rank, but he really hated that. So did Lou, my chief. “What can I help you with?”
“You working on anything at the moment?”
He knew I wasn’t. He would’ve already checked in with Lou before making this call. I could tell just from the pitch of his voice that he had an assignment for me. But this was Walt’s way of being courteous of me. I was Lou’s inspector. Either of them could tell me where to go at any time, yet neither would. They always requested it. And not because I was a woman. Despite both men being in their fifties, they didn’t care whether their people were men or women, only that they could do their jobs. They were both incredible men to work for. That couldn’t always be said about every chief at every fire station. I’d been lucky to start out at Cholla Grove and have never had the desire to leave.
“Nope. Something I can help you with?”
“Yeah. We have a burned out factory down off Avondale Boulevard. Fire started yesterday. Took a while for my guys to get it under control and completely out thanks to all the old chemicals and things that were being stored in it.”
“They find any evidence of foul play?” I suspected the answer was yes since he was planning to send me in there.
He let out a humorless chuckle. “Oh yeah. Bodies.”
“What?” I asked, my eyebrows flying up in shock.
“That’s why I’m just calling you in now. Homicide’s been over there. They’re requesting our assistance.”
I’d been about to ask why he waited so long to call me. But that made sense. Once dead bodies were found the whole thing became a homicide investigation, until someone determined whether it was or wasn’t a homicide. That was what they wanted my help with. Were these bodies the remains of some poor souls who were just caretakers for the property while the company figured out what to do with the building and everything inside it? Homeless people that lost control of a fire that was keeping them warm? Or had something more happened?
“I’ll head over now,” I told him.
“Thanks Devyn. Hale’s over there handling point on our side of things for now. You can check in with him, and the lead homicide detective’s name is…Bowers.”
“Thank you, Walt. I’ll keep Hale updated on what I find.”
“Appreciate it.”
My cell buzzed on my desk as I hung up. Picking the phone up, I read Sophie’s text and frowned.
Soph:It’s been more than four waking hours since we’ve spoken. Something’s wrong. Call me.
Shaking my head, I quickly texted her back to let her know about the case and grabbed my keys as I stood. She always had a sixth sense when something was going on with one of us. I’d promised Bolo I wouldn’t give away his secret, but I sort of also needed someone to talk to about all this. I’d gone over and over our conversation in my mind last night. So much so that I’d barely slept. I was glad this call had come in. It would help keep me awake. Not to mention distracted from my own predicament.
I grabbed my bag on the way out of my office and waved at Lou—who was sitting behind his own desk across the hall—as I left. He insisted on having a glass door. Made him more approachable without having to keep the door open. Or so he claimed.
The SUV I was assigned by the department purred to life and I immediately adjusted the air so that the AC would kick on, a necessity in Phoenix. Summer was kicking off in full swing and the days were starting to get hot. It was now the middle of June and it was only going to get hotter. Despite that, the weather was something I loved. It was warm almost year round. What wasn’t to love? Snow and ice weren’t something I wanted to deal with, even on a seasonal basis.
The drive out to the factory was uneventful, but as soon as I pulled up there was organized chaos everywhere. It would’vebeen even worse yesterday. I waved as a tall, blond, man started my way.
The guys had all given Hale Sullivan the nickname ‘Golden God’. The man was six-two, ripped for days, and had a smile that could blind you if you stared directly at it. He was like the poster boy for a romance novel. I never had any interest, and really believed that kind of man wasn’t my type. At least, I’d believed that until Bolo had crashed his way into my life. Now I had my very own romance hero…anti-hero? Who would’ve guessed that would happen? Certainly not me.
“Hale,” I said, stepping out of my car and shaking his hand. He was a nice guy. Got himself a steady girlfriend, a couple years back, which calmed down the amount of flirting he did. I appreciated that the most. He was head over heels for the girl. “You propose yet?” I asked with a sly smile because he used to claim he’d never get married.
He narrowed his eyes. “How the hell do you do that?”
I gave him an innocent look, watching as he pulled a small box out of his pocket and handed it over. I flicked open the lid and nodded. “That’s gorgeous, Hale. Selene is going to love it.” I gave him a mischievous grin. “And hearts all over Phoenix will be breaking.”
He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, Bell.” He took the box back and shoved it into his pocket. “Good to get a woman’s seal of approval though.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a mess in there,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “The detective isn’t a complete dick though.”
I laughed. “Well, that’s a good thing.”
He shrugged his shoulders, stretching the material of his t-shirt to the breaking point. He always insisted on wearing a size too small. Size schmedium. As if we couldn’t see all the muscle anyway. He took all the good natured ribbing from the guys as itwas meant and had fully lived up to his nickname by working out every minute they weren’t on calls.
We had a couple exactly like him over in our station house. Nice guys, but I kept my sisters away. Men like that often played the field a lot. Which was why I’d rejected Bolo at first. I recognized his type. Fine, so he hadn’t been a fire fighter, but bikers had the same kind of reputation.
