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“The officer out front told me you were back here.” He closed the distance between them, held out his hand, and introduced himself.
She regarded his outstretched fingers, then lifted her gloved hand. “I don’t think you want a fistful of soot. But it’s nice to meet you, Agent Davis.”
Was it? The words were cordial, but her tone was reserved. Wary.
Maybe she had jurisdictional issues. Not all local law enforcement officers welcomed an intrusion by the Feds.
Or was she just tired?
As he returned the sentiment, he studied her. Fine lines radiated from the corners of the cobalt-blue eyes behind the safety glasses, and faint shadows hung under her lower lashes.
One explanation for her weariness? She’d been here during the fire ... and beyond.
“Make it Marc. How late did you stay last night?”
Her eyebrows arched a hair at his assumption, her gaze measured as she let a few beats pass. “Until the firefighters left and I was confident the scene was secure.”
According to his boss, the fire had been called in about nine thirty. Meaning she’d had a late night.
“Prompted by diligence or suspicion?”
She shifted her weight. “Securing a scene is normal protocol.”
Not a direct answer. But if she did have suspicions, why not share them?
A question he’d have to explore over the coming hours—or days.
“Let me suit up and you can fill me in on what you’ve got so far.” As he pivoted and retraced his steps across the cinders littering the yard, his spirits ticked up a few notches.
Working a house fire might not be on his top ten list of exciting assignments, but doing it with someone who looked like Brianne Tucker—even if her welcome had been less than effusive—could add a bit of zing to his life for the few days it should take to wrap this up. The cause of most house fires, even ones with loss of life, could often be nailed down fast.
But while they were sorting out the pieces of the puzzle, why not also see what he could uncover about the woman in charge of investigating it? Concealing as the bulky protective gear was, it hadn’t been able to camouflage the caution in those vivid blue eyes. Nor had it masked her overly startled reaction to his approach. Why was she—
He stopped as he approached the front corner of the house. Peered down. Through the ashes stirred by a gust of wind, a small, bright object winked at him.
Marc dropped to the balls of his feet to examine it.
Next to the stone garden edging that had once protected a singed, wilted row of hostas, a piece of faceted glass glinted in the morning light like a diamond. He leaned closer. It wasn’t a broken bottle shard. The fragment appeared to be cut glass.
Worth preserving, after he had an evidence envelope in hand. Anything that seemed out of place deserved scrutiny.
He stood and continued toward his car, his thoughts shifting back to Brianne Tucker.
What was her story?
Purely an academic question, of course, since he had no time or inclination to socialize. Off the job, his priorities were Nan and settling in.
Yet as he unlocked the trunk of his car to collect his gear, it was impossible to ignore the faint flutter in his nerve endings. The kind he’d experienced once upon a time, in his early days with Serena.
Odd that it would rekindle in the most unromantic of settings, beside the burned-out hulk of a house, and thanks to a stranger who hadn’t been any too happy to see him.
He shoved his legs into the dark blue coveralls.
Weird how life worked.
But as Nan was fond of saying, while God’s timing was often a mystery to mere mortals, there was always a purpose behind it.
So he’d go with the flow and see how much he could learn about the blond fire investigator while the two of them sorted through the rubble. If nothing else, some personal reconnaissance could liven up an investigation that would likely pose few other challenges.
