Page 29 of Burning Justice

Gemma flicked an accusatory look at Brett. He’d been in possession of information he hadn’t shared with her, and she was royally pissed. Time to dig himself out before he disappeared into the quicksand. “The information Mr. Manning shared with me in court is personal. It’s in the pretrial services report, but even I don’t get a copy of that. Bottom line, it’s not my place to share it. Even with my partner.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. “I see.” She turned back to Gavin, who’d begun squirming in his seat and reached down to pet Blaze again. “You know, Gavin, I grew up with three brothers. There probably isn’t anything you could say that would offend me.”

“Wanna bet?” Gavin mumbled.

“I volunteer at a place called Hands of Hope. It primarily helps women, but it also helps their kids. Some of those women come to us because their children are being hurt. I’ve seen the worst of what adults can do to a child. Fathers included.”

Gavin wrapped his arms around his stomach and began rocking in his chair.

“I want to help you,” she continued, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But it’s your decision.”

The kid’s eyes glistened, and he kept right on rocking. Seconds ticked by. Tears spilled down his cheeks. With quick, jerky movements, he wiped them away.

Gemma slid the box of tissues sitting on the table in front of Gavin. He snagged one and wiped his nose with it.

Blaze rose and again rested his head on Gavin’s lap, doing exactly what Brett had brought him here for in the first place. To give comfort and support in a way no human ever could.

The kid began petting Blaze again, his hand on his dog’s head almost frantic as he desperately sought to absorb the calm, quiet understanding Blaze emanated. Gavin took a deep inhale, letting it out on a shaky breath. “You can stay.”

Good for you, Gemma Scott. If the kid hadn’t wanted her to remain in the room, there would have been nothing Brett could have said or done to justify her staying.

“Thank you.” In a show of warmth, similar to what she’d exhibited with Sally Nash, she squeezed Gavin’s shoulder, again making Brett wonder what had happened in her past that she normally only showed people her steely, emotional barricade.

Then again, who was he to pass judgment? There were times he could be the king of emotional sinkholes. Emotions went in, but they never came out. A major buzzkill for relationships.

Brett tugged a pad and pen from his inside jacket pocket. “For the record,” he said, looking first at Manning, then Gavin, “this isn’t a ‘queen for a day’ scenario.” Meaning no formal document had been signed giving Gavin immunity. “Anything you say to me can be used against you and as evidence for additional charges.”

Manning glanced at his client. “We’ve already discussed this. We recognize this interview is highly unusual at this juncture, but I believe it’s in my client’s best interest.”

“Then let’s get started.” Brett flipped open his pad. “Let’s talk about the warehouse fire first.” That would be the easy part.

“I already told you”—Gavin slammed his fist on the table, making Gemma and his attorney jerk back—“I didn’t set that fire.”

“I know. We believe you.” After watching the video from the warehouse feed Brett had sent to the U.S. Attorney’s Office, the prosecutor had, too. That didn’t mean the kid was completely off the hook, and Manning knew it. “But I still need to ask about it. You may be a witness.” Before peppering him with questions, Brett waited for the kid to sit back and the wary calm to return in his eyes. “Did you see who set the warehouse fire?” Witnesses to acts of arson were rare. Even more unusual would be if the only witness was an arsonist himself.

“No.” He shook his head, barely meeting Brett’s eyes.

The trust wasn’t there yet. Maybe never would be. Brett pressed on. “Did you hear anything before the fire started?”

This time, he nodded. “Dooley and I were asleep. I’m a light sleeper. I woke up when I heard a noise, like something metal hitting the floor.” Possibly one of the discarded cans of MEK. “Dooley is”—Gavin swallowed—“was a heavy sleeper, so he didn’t wake up. I smelled smoke and chemicals, so I got up to check it out. The warehouse was on fire. I ran back to wake Dooley up, but I couldn’t get to him. I ran out the back door, then stuck around, figuring he’d come out, but he never did. I waited and waited, but he never came out. So I ran. I swear I didn’t set that fire, just the dumpsters. I swear it.”

Gavin started rocking again, and this time he let the tears fall without trying to wipe them away.

Gemma pushed the box of tissues closer. “It’s okay, Gavin. We weren’t kidding. We do believe you.” Again, she touched his shoulder. The contact was minimal, but it did the trick. Almost immediately, Gavin seemed to get hold of himself.

Damn, she’s good. Gemma knew precisely when to use that soft, gentle touch. And it was genuine. She really seemed to care about this kid.

After Gavin grabbed a tissue, Brett pressed on. “I’m sorry about your friend. Was Dooley his first name or his last? We’d like to notify his family.”

“I think it was Mark Dooley, but he didn’t have any family.” Gavin shrugged. “None that wanted him.”

That explained a lot. According to Manning, Gavin’s family hadn’t wanted him, either. It would be natural for these two to gravitate to each other.

“How did you and Dooley get into the warehouse? The front and back doors were locked, and there was a security system.”

“Only the front door needed a key. The back door had a keypad. We watched once when someone used that door, and we memorized the code. All we had to do was get in before someone set the alarm for the day, then wait until someone showed up in the morning and turned it off. When they did, we either left out the back door or just grabbed our stuff and hid. It was easy.”

Blaze nudged Gavin’s arm, not letting up until the kid relented and began petting his head again.