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“No, man. Just outside, like this.” Colin’s eyes slid away from his, then came back. “I just wish I’d been able to help her. That I hadn’t pissed her off that day. I feel like I did something to set her off, even knowing she’d relapsed before.”
“Yeah. It’s a shame. Her boss at the hair place said she’d been doing so good.”
“You talked to Tracey?”
“We talk to everyone. You know that.”
Colin gazed at the charred kitchen behind Brick, as if he could see Jasmine sitting at the table that had been there. Was he remembering sticking the needle in her arm? Had he tied her up? There’d been no evidence of restraints, but a burned body, all the fluids sucked from it by the heat, was severely reduced in size, losing a lot of details. Coroners, just like detectives, often didn’t dig past a certain point. Not if they had a plausible reason for a fire and they felt they’d crosschecked and investigated enough. They all had caseloads.
Colin’s firehouse had been one of those trained on what to look for, to help Brick’s department determine accident or arson.
Every good intention could be twisted for the wrong purpose.
Brick took a couple steps toward the truck and met Les’s gaze. Get in the damn truck. Get in the truck. He’d left the keys in it, so she could conceivably drive away, go get help if something went bad here.
Shit, she’d picked up that something was off. Her gaze became puzzled. Brick schooled his face to a neutral mask as he turned back toward Colin. He shifted casually, but kept himself between her and the fireman. “I’m headed back to the office, but I thought I might stop at your firehouse, since it’s on the way. You know I like to shoot the shit with you guys, remind myself of when my job was a lot simpler.”
His half-smile wasn’t too much for their surroundings, but would look like a reasonable attempt to get Colin away from the site where he’d lost his girlfriend. “Maybe you could do me a solid, let my girl sit in the front seat of an engine and blow the horn.”
Colin blinked. “Yeah. Yeah of course. You know, I saw Norman at the diner a couple days ago. He said you still weren’t convinced it was an accident.”
Fucking hell. Norman was the incident commander from the fire. Brick was going to tear a strip from his ass. But as he knew too well, Colin’s own house would be the first to eliminate him from the suspect list. Cops and firefighters were both bad about letting things leak to their own, thinking it was safe, that the information wouldn’t get to the wrong people.
Like the top suspect.
Brick shrugged. “I have to be thorough. I’m just going over the details, finalizing the paperwork.”
“What do you think happened here, Brick? You think someone did this deliberately? Because…” Colin took a breath. “Did Tracey mention there was a new guy in Jasmine’s life? She didn’t have the best judgment, particularly when drugs were involved. Maybe it was a guy who used like her.”
Brick gave Colin a no-nonsense look, behaving as he would be expected to act. “I know you’re going through a bad time. But this is the last time I’m going to say it. I can’t talk about witness statements, or any information about the case.”
He moved forward to lay a friendly hand on Colin’s shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze. The man was tense as a board. His pulse was jumping in his throat. Brick stepped back. “Go home, or follow me to your firehouse. You look like you could use some time with your guys. Not here at this shitshow.”
He tilted his head toward their vehicles, an invitation, then moved toward Les. As he carried his gear, he kept his pace measured. He’d guide Les to the passenger door, help her in. Circle around the back, get in, and drive away.
He saw Les’s expression freeze a blink before Colin spoke from behind him. “It was me letting myself be seen with them that morning, wasn’t it? I knew that could fuck it up, but I didn’t want any of the guys trying to go into the house, do an S&R. I knew the condition of the place. I’d set it up so by the time they got here, it would be fully involved.”
Brick pivoted, seeing what Les had, the gun Colin held. Trained on Brick’s chest, because he’d kept himself in front of Les. He’d never in his life been so glad he was the size of a billboard.
“Why couldn’t you just let it go?” Colin’s voice was tired. Eyes flat like a walking corpse. “She was a goddamn junkie.”
“She was a woman getting her life back on track, and it was looking like you weren’t going to be part of that life,” Brick said quietly. “It hurt. I get that. But the kids, Colin? What the fuck was that about?”
He could go the placating route, or he could react how Colin might expect any sane person to react. Asking Colin a question might give them extra seconds.
“Couldn’t leave the kids without their mama. My mother died young. I know how hard that is. I was protecting them, letting them go with her. They didn’t feel a thing. I put the sedative in the donuts and her coffee, so all of them were out like lights when I brought them back. I sat in the kitchen holding her hand, watching the fire build. I didn’t leave her alone until I absolutely had to, Brick. She even mumbled my name a few times. Like she did when she needed me to help clean her up, take care of her.”
Colin lowered the gun halfway, his expression troubled. “I’ve been through a bad divorce, Brick. It sucks, to have someone leave you, to pick up the pieces. I didn’t want to do that again.”
He lifted the gun again. “Move out of the way. I’ll do her first, so she doesn’t have to see you go.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
Brick flung the armload of gear at him. He wasn’t close enough for the shovel to be used as a weapon, but it could become a projectile. The helmet spun through the air with it, the coveralls a cloud of fabric tumbling to the ground.
He whirled toward Les, grabbed her hand and jerked her into a run. He zigzagged them across the gravel drive and toward the adjacent field and woods beyond it. It was a way-too-fucking-far twenty-five feet, but it was hard to hit a moving target.
If he hadn’t had Les with him, he might have charged Colin, risking the odds to knock him down and take the gun from him. But if Colin got in a lucky shot, Les would face a murderer on her own. Not acceptable.
