Page 6 of Burning Justice

“But you’ll interview him eventually, right?”

At the bottom of the stairs, he pushed open the door leading to the main level, again holding it open for her. “Probably.”

“I want to go with you.”

Instead of responding, he frowned, then continued through the lobby, out the main door, and down the steps toward an unmarked silver Expedition parked at the curb in the no-parking zone.

She raced after him, squinting as the hot, eighty-five-degree September air hit her face, the bright sunlight nearly blinding her. Gemma hustled to catch up to him. “I still don’t think Gavin Aldrich set those warehouse fires.”

Tanner stopped and turned so abruptly, she nearly crashed into his chest. A seriously muscled chest. “He was caught running from the scene. My dog hit on him because he smelled of accelerants. Aldrich had matches and butane lighters in his pockets. Am I missing something?”

Gemma ground her teeth. Geez. She really hoped this guy wasn’t one of those typical macho federal agents who wasn’t open to an idea if it wasn’t theirs to begin with. If he was, she’d have her work cut out for her.

Working in a world traditionally occupied solely by men was difficult enough. Being vertically challenged amped up the difficulty by a factor of ten. People often saw her as a child, not as a woman who’d aced nearly every test she’d ever taken and had scored borderline genius on that silly psych test.

And one who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He clicked the fob on his keychain, then opened the driver’s side door and grabbed a leash from the front seat. Next, he clicked something on his belt, and the rear passenger door popped open. Blaze, Tanner’s enormous Chesapeake Bay Retriever, stood inside the kennel, wriggling, eager to get out.

The moment Tanner snapped the leash onto the dog’s collar, he jumped out and trotted over.

Tanner tipped his head to her. “Blaze, you remember Gemma, don’t you?”

The sight of such a happy, smiling dog momentarily derailed Gemma’s intense focus, and she knelt to greet Blaze. “I’m happy to see you again, too.”

Blaze responded with a quick lick to her chin, followed by a throaty, yowling jumble of sounds that, if she didn’t know was impossible, she’d swear were herro, Gemma. She pointed to Blaze and looked up at Tanner. “He did not just say my name. Did he?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? He watches a lot of TV. Talks back to the screen.”

Okay. A parroting dog.

Tanner tugged Blaze away and led him to a row of shrubs, where he promptly took care of his business.

“I know it looks bad for the kid, but I think you’ve got it wrong. Dead wrong,” Gemma called after him, wincing at the bad choice of words. She followed them to the shrubs. “He doesn’t fit the pattern I’ve been following. I tried to tell you that last night, but you didn’t want to hear it.”

Tanner stared her down. “I was a little busy chasing down an arsonist.”

Gemma craned her neck and glared up at him. To anyone watching, she must look like a chihuahua staring up at a Great Dane. “Aldrich may very well be an arsonist, but I don’t think he set that warehouse on fire last night or two weeks ago.”

Tanner gave her a look she was all too familiar with, the one that said he didn’t believe her. “You did say that last night. Okay, I’ll bite. Why not?”

All righty, then. Foot. In. The door.

“There’ve been house fires all over the state for the last few years,” she began.

“Statistically speaking, there are hundreds of thousands of house fires every year all around the country,” Tanner countered.

“True,” she agreed. “But not all burn to the ground. Not all of them are total losses. Last year, two different insurance companies requested the NICB look into two fires, because both had insurance policies with heavy riders, and the insurance companies were reluctant to pay out. Both these fires were officially deemed accidental.”

“Go on.” Tanner led his dog to a shaded area, and Gemma was forced to follow.

“On the surface, maybe they did seem accidental. One of the insurance policies included a rider extending coverage on expensive items for over twenty-five thousand dollars. One of the items was an old painting, and another was for a mink coat.”

Tanner shook his head. “I’m still not seeing your pattern. It’s common knowledge that riders pay out high replacement costs for personal items.”

“Agreed.” She nodded, encouraged that he seemed to be interested. “Like you, it’s my job to investigate anything that could be arson-for-profit. The NICB is funded by insurance companies, so when they ask us to look into something, we do.”

“I take it you did?” Tanner sat on a bench and gave her a half smile.