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“Why don’t you just sell the damn place? It’s gorgeous. You’ll get a pretty penny for it.”
“I just can’t do that, Phoenix. At least not right now.”
“You’re not thinking about going back with your ex.” I heard the chastising tone in my voice and sighed. The fact he’d found her in their bed with one of his deputies was close to one of the worst things that could happen.
“Fuck, no. Are you kidding me? I thought I could move back to the place, but it’s just not going to happen. Still, I’d hate to see it go to just anyone.”
“I just wanted you to know.”
“You followed her back there last night.”
Half laughing, I could tell he was amused. “It was the least I could do.”
“You do know Bart is a slime bag. Right?”
“Bart Michaels is a bully with far too much money since Daddy left him everything in his will. He already had a grudge with me from a long time ago.”
“Yeah, I remember. He’s moved up to being a dangerous asshole, accused of several blackmailing schemes in his attempt to buy up half the town.”
I could tell Gage had an opinion on whether Bart was capable of murder. “I hear you.”
“Uh-huh. I’m serious. He made a very lucrative offer on your father’s property before you came back to town.” He lifted his eyebrow, curious as to whether I’d heard.
“Fuck. Son of a bitch. No, I didn’t know that.”
“You need to talk to your father more often.”
“Sounds like you’re putting two and two together.”
“Maybe. And I’m probably an idiot for telling you.” Gage lifted his eyebrows again. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I don’t plan on it.”
“Famous last words.”
Gage led the way, the stench making my eyes water.
We found Frederick just inside the burned-out shell, shining his flashlight around the crumbled space. As I crunched through the ruins, I realized I was usually lucky in that I never had to see the aftermath of people’s lives destroyed.
“Frederick,” Gage said as I took shallow breaths. “I thought I’d find you here. You remember Phoenix from the Zullies.”
“Oh, yeah. I heard about your reputation too,” Frederick said as he studied me carefully. “You’re damn good, but the hot dogging is going to get you killed.”
“So I’ve been told many times,” I managed.
Gage cleared his throat. “This was an unusually hot fire.”
“Yup. It stinks. Doesn’t it?” he asked. The man was one of few words.
“More than usual. Why?” I piped in.
“Gasoline was mixed with chlorine trifluoride then reacted with something else I haven’t figured out yet. Colorless and highly flammable, but the stench is ungodly. That’s why the concrete disintegrated.” The investigator broke a chunk apart with his fingers, crushing it into dust.
“Let me guess. You can’t purchase it over the counter,” I suggested.
“Hell, no, son,” he said, laughing. “Which might mean good news for us, especially you, Sheriff. You can only purchase it through specialized dealers. Burns like a son of a bitch.”
“How did it start?”
