Perfect Alibi

“You really think kids set this fire, too?” She seemed to be studying him closely now. “I mean...you’re certain it wasn’t, uh, set by someone else?”

“What do you mean by someone else?” He peered curiously back at her. “Do you know something...?”

“No, of course not.” She bit her bottom lip and glanced away, as if she was sorry she’d said anything. Or as if she was holding something back.

“If you know something, you should tell me,” he urged. “Mallory?” he persisted. “What’s going on?”

He could tell by her face that something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Was it related to the fire? Did she have anything to do with it? As fire chief it was his job to investigate—and to be impartial. But he couldn’t believe that Mallory Myers would have any sort of criminal involvement. Besides, this was her parents’ home. Not that all family relationships were harmonious. “Do you know something about this fire?” he asked her again, using a firmer voice this time.

“Oh...no, I don’t really know anything.” It seemed as if she was trying to sound nonchalant. “I mean I just smelled smoke. I looked outside and saw flames and called 911. That’s all.”

Logan narrowed his eyes, studying her. Something about her story didn’t ring true. And that bothered him. A lot. “Well, my guess is that this was a man-made fire,” he told her. “We haven’t had a lightning strike in a few weeks. And as far as I know, no strikes in these parts. Anyway, we’ll know better when the sun comes up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go give my crew a hand. I’d like to get this wrapped up as soon as possible. Just in case we get another call.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.” She nodded in what seemed like relief and, stepping back, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She looked so sweet and vulnerable just now—dressed in those clothes with mud on her face, her dark hair glowing in the firelight. And yet she was acting so strangely...as if she were somehow involved in the fire. Logan felt confused...and conflicted. And those were not the sort of feelings that a fire chief, especially a relatively young one, liked to experience.

“You probably want to go in and clean yourself up,” he told her in a brusque tone.

She looked down at her muddy clothes and nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.”

As she walked toward the house, Logan just watched, dumbfounded. What was going on here? Why was Mallory at her parents’ home when he knew they were on vacation? Why was she dressed like that? And what was she doing outside while there was what appeared to be an arsonist-set blaze going? What was going on?

Logan shook his head as he went to rejoin his crew. As happy as he was to see Mallory again—although he did regret tackling her—he felt torn. Something weird was going on here, and before this night was over, he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“Doing some mud wrestling over there?” Winnie Halston teased him as she turned a shovelful of dirt over. Logan liked Winnie and appreciated that she worked as hard as any of the guys, but sometimes she got a little too friendly with him. It often felt like a tightrope walk to keep a professional distance, yet at the same time remain congenial and supportive as her boss. Sometimes he just wished she’d find another job.

Logan chuckled as he picked up a shovel. “Yeah, I guess it probably looked like that.”

“Who was the kid you took down?” she asked as she shoved her spade into the soft soil. “And why isn’t he in custody now?”

“The kid was a woman. Deputy Myers’s daughter.”

Winnie’s brow creased with suspicion. “Do you think she set the fire?”

“According to her, she was simply trying to help extinguish it.” He started to dig, helping to expand the fire line. He didn’t really have to do the hard labor anymore, but it seemed to boost team morale to see him doing some of the grunge work alongside them. And since this was a small fire and not really in need of much managerial supervision, there was no reason not to help out. Besides, he felt guilty for ignoring Winnie a little too much this week. Such a fine line between sending a message and being just plain rude.

“So, what’s this girl’s name?” Winnie’s voice had a twinge of jealousy.

“Mallory,” he said in a flat tone.

“And you know for sure that she’s really the Myers’s daughter? I mean, isn’t Deputy Myers on vacation? What’s this chick doing out here all by herself while her daddy’s gone? Sounds a little fishy, if you ask me.”

“I know she’s Deputy Myers’s daughter because I went to school with her,” he said wryly. “She was a couple years behind me.”

“Fine. But how do you know she’s not a suspect?” Winnie persisted. “This girl could be angry at her parents...maybe she gets even by torching their place while they’re gone. Most violent crimes are committed by people known to the victims. Suspects are usually family or friends...”

“Been watching CSI again?”

“Just reruns.” She smiled slyly. “A girl’s gotta do something on a lonely night.”

“Well, I’m relatively certain that Mallory Myers had nothing to do with this fire,” he assured her. “As a matter of fact, she was the one to call 911, and when I tackled her she was actually just trying to hose down a spot fire to protect her dad’s shop. Does that sound like a crazed arsonist to you?”

“You never know.” She frowned. “What about that getup she had on? I saw her. Looked like she was trying to disguise herself as a kid. Maybe to make it appear this was part of the teen group you’ve been tracking. Suspicious.”

He shrugged as he turned a shovelful of dirt over. He knew this was nonsense, but didn’t want to argue the point. “Maybe you’re in the wrong line of work,” he said. “Instead of being a firefighter, you should be working for the sheriff’s department.” He chuckled, but he wasn’t really kidding. Everyone knew that Winnie loved putting her nose in everyone else’s business.

“I’m just saying it’s curious how this woman’s out here by herself while her parents are off on vacation,” she continued. “Just because you went to school with her doesn’t mean she had nothing to do with this fire. And everyone knows we haven’t had lightning in weeks. So you know it’s gotta be human caused.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Winnie.” He decided to insert some cool authority into his tone. Time for her to back off and focus on her work. Without engaging further, Logan set his shovel back in his truck then went over to give TJ a hand with unloading another hose from the water truck.

“What happened to that kid you stopped?” TJ asked as they maneuvered the hose toward the south side of the fire line, generously soaking the smoldering embers.

For the second time tonight Logan explained the little mix-up. But he didn’t mind telling TJ. Besides the fact that TJ was his best friend, they’d gone to school together and Logan was pretty sure TJ would remember Mallory, too.

“No kidding? That was Mallory Myers?”

“Yep.”

TJ laughed. “How’d she take that?”

“Pretty furious.”

“Yeah, but as I recall Mallory was always a good sport.” TJ chuckled.

“Hopefully she still is.” Logan hefted the hose closer to the fire. The truth was, he’d always liked Mallory. More than once he’d considered asking her out. But something...or someone...always seemed to get in the way.

He wondered if that would still be the situation. Was Mallory in some kind of committed relationship? And even if she wasn’t, what would be the point in pursuing her now? She lived in the city, he lived here. Besides that, something about her wasn’t sitting right with him. The girl had troubles. He could almost smell it.

Logan worked with TJ for nearly an hour, but it was obvious that the fire was well under control and there was little need for Logan to remain on the line. Except that he was still mulling over some things.

“Is Mallory still good-looking?” TJ suddenly asked Logan.

“Kind of hard to tell with all that mud on her face.” Logan chuckled as he leaned his shovel against a tree. No way was he going to tell TJ that she was even more beautiful now than he remembered her being back in high school.

“Never really told anyone, but I used to kind of have a thing for her,” TJ admitted.

“Really?” Logan felt a small pang of jealous concern. “I never knew that.”

“Well, I didn’t go around advertising it.” TJ grinned. “And you remember how shy I was in high school. Could barely speak to a girl.” He punched Logan in the arm. “Not like you, Romeo. You always had girls hanging all over you.” TJ nodded over to where Winnie was still shoveling. “Which reminds me. Winnie’s been asking around about whether you’re mad at her about something. Saw you two talking just now. Everything okay?”

Logan blew out a slow breath. “Yeah, sure.”

“I know she rubs you the wrong way, but she’s really not so bad. Once you get to know her better.”

“I think you’re the one who needs to get to know Winnie better,” Logan teased.

TJ’s grin faded and Logan waved a hand. “Better get your mind off the women and back on your work, TJ.”

TJ gave him a mock salute. “Yeah, boss.”

Logan saluted back as he informed TJ that he was going to check the line. It wasn’t that he was mad at TJ, but he didn’t appreciate his friend’s “helpful advice.” It was clear that TJ was using Winnie as a smoke screen, probably a distraction from Mallory. Like TJ thought Logan was about to sweep Mallory off her feet. Although he had just knocked her off her feet. But seriously, neither of them would have a chance with Mallory Myers.

Besides having grown into her good looks, Mallory was a big-city girl now—a successful news writer for the Channel Six News, no less. Logan had heard Deputy Myers bragging about how his little girl had gone from being an intern to becoming the youngest journalist, at the age of twenty-three, for the prestigious Portland news show. And hadn’t she been dating someone of influence, too? Clear signs she was out of their league.

As Logan walked, he considered his own limited history with Mallory. She’d been a year behind him in school, but he’d always thought she seemed like a sweet girl. Very pretty, with her shiny dark hair and big brown eyes. And smart, too. She was in his history class and outshone most of the seniors. Maybe that’s why she’d caught his eye during his last year of high school. And during the following summer, when she coached his kid sister’s lacrosse team, Logan went out of his way to be friendly to her every time he picked up Selma. But Mallory just blew him off. And Logan wasn’t used to having a girl treat him like that. Eventually he’d just given up. It wasn’t meant to be.

Ironically, he’d probably had his longest conversation with her tonight—after he’d tackled her. Maybe he needed to change his routine—some guys knocked ’em over with their charm, he could just knock them down. He chuckled as he kicked into a smoldering pile of dirt, pausing to give it some turns with his shovel. Not that he’d been looking for girlfriends much this past year. Getting appointed to chief had seemed to put the kibosh on his personal life.

But something about Mallory had really caught him off guard tonight. And it wasn’t just because he felt guilty for knocking her down. No, there was something in her eyes that suggested all was not well. Something in her demeanor had reeled him in. So much so that he felt like stepping up to protect her. But protect her from what? The fire would be out before long, and he didn’t really think her troubles were related to that anyway. At least, he hoped they weren’t. Surely she wasn’t an arsonist, as Winnie had suggested, here to sabotage her parents in their absence. That was just plain dumb. And yet he had to admit that Mallory’s responses to his questions about the fire had sounded a bit like doubletalk. That wasn’t good.

But it did give him a legitimate excuse to resume his conversation with her. After all, it was his job to collect information related to the fire, and his gut feeling had been that she was holding out on him. Something was troubling her. Unless he was mistaken, it was something pretty serious. And before he left this place, he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

THREE

As she took a quick shower—the first one she’d had since Kestra’s murder—she couldn’t keep her mind from replaying the events of the past few days. Would she always be haunted by fear? Mallory hurried to redress in the same work outfit she’d worn the past two days. It was what she used to call one of her “grown-up” ensembles, part of a limited wardrobe her mother had helped her to acquire when she’d gotten hired as an intern for the Channel Six News. “Dress for the job you want,” Mom had wisely advised. Mallory had done so...and she’d eventually landed a fantastic job...but where had it gotten her?

She frowned at her pathetic reflection. A worn-out looking brunette in a rumpled linen suit and a pale green blouse that was anything but fresh. As she pinned her still-damp hair into a messy bun, she wondered why she’d told Mom to donate her old clothes to the resell shop last spring. Did she really think she’d never need her small-town wardrobe again? Plaid shirts and denim jackets were suddenly appealing. Comfortable and practical and much better than a bright orange jumpsuit. Not that she’d done anything criminal, although everyone seemed determined to pin something on her. Even when she’d told Detective Doyle she wanted to go home, she’d been warned not to leave the state.

Curious about the state of the fire, she went back outside to check. Although it was barely five, the western horizon was gray with morning light—and she still hadn’t slept a wink. And felt pretty sure she couldn’t sleep now. Or ever. A dozen or so firefighters were still at work and although there were various chimneys of smoldering smoke, no flames were visible. Mallory sat down in a front porch wicker rocker, staring down at a large metal pot of pale pink geraniums and trying to remember a time when life had been good. But nothing came to her. All she felt was a bone-deep sort of numbness.

She considered calling her dad. Chances were they’d reached Iowa by now—unless they were still on their way. But she had a feeling that if she heard his voice she would fall apart—and he would turn around and come back home again. Of course, that’s what she wanted...but she knew it was selfish. Her parents rarely took real vacations, rarely traveled anywhere outside of the state. And as soon as they found out about all of this...first Kestra...then this fire...well, she knew that would be the end of their big trip.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up to see Logan McDaniel strolling purposefully toward her. To her surprise, her spirits lifted ever so slightly as she watched him approach. It was as if his mere presence breathed a spark of life back into her. Or maybe it was hope. Whatever the case, she was grateful.

It was interesting to see him by the light of day. Still as tall as she remembered from high school, he appeared a little more filled out now. Dressed in his firefighter gear, he looked ruggedly handsome, and his long slow stride suggested a steady sort of confidence. This man was comfortable in his own skin. While a part of her admired this trait, another part of her was disturbed by it. It was this same quality that had first drawn her to Brock and a frightened little voice inside her head warned her to watch out.

“It’s a hundred percent contained,” Logan announced as he came up to the porch. Leaning against a post he peered down at her. “It should be completely out in a couple of hours.”

“That’s great news.” She forced an uneasy smile. “Thanks.”

“Just doing my job.” He gave her a handsome grin, revealing even white teeth. “You clean up nicely.”

“Thanks.” She slowly stood, folding her arms in front of her.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a slight frown.

She bit her lip, unsure of how to respond. Okay? That was not how she would describe anything related to her life right now. Definitely Not Okay.

“I don’t mean to intrude, Mallory, but you seem uneasy or upset, like something’s bothering you. Need to talk?”

She felt a part of her softening. Why shouldn’t she trust him? And yet...best to play it safe until she knew she could trust him. She sighed. “Well, witnessing your parents’ home...about to go up in flames...that’s a bit disturbing, don’t you think?” She frowned then glanced away to avoid his eyes.

“Sure. It’s understandable that you’d be upset over the fire.”

“Plus I’m a little sleep deprived.” She leaned back, wondering how much longer she could hold it together. His expression was so genuine...so sympathetic...it made her feel as if she was about to crack.

“I’m sure it’s been a rough night for you.”

“Try a rough couple days.” She spoke sharply, then instantly regretted it. Besides not wanting to divulge too much, it wasn’t as though it was his fault that her life was a train wreck.

His brows arched, and she could see the wheels turning in his head, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I’ve been, well, going through some stuff. Hard stuff. I came here to be with my parents—but I totally forgot they were going to be gone.”

“Yeah, your dad’s family reunion in Iowa,” he said casually. “He told me about it just last week. He was really looking forward to the trip. Did you know that he hasn’t seen all his siblings, all together in one place, for more than thirty years?”

Of course, this was upsetting to hear. For a couple of reasons. First of all, if she told her parents about everything—as she wanted to do—it would ruin their vacation. How selfish was that? But the other reason she felt bad was hearing how Dad had shared personal family information with Logan—instead of her. But maybe she’d been too busy. Too caught up in her own life. Too selfish.

“No, I didn’t actually know that,” she confessed. “But I do know that Dad has three brothers and two sisters. They live all over the country. I’ve met some of them, but I don’t really know them very well. Not by more than just name.” She studied Logan carefully. What sort of man was this? That her dad confided in him? Maybe she was mistaken not to trust him more.

“Can you imagine how it would feel not to see a sibling for that long—thirty years? I know I’d miss Selma a lot.”

She sadly shook her head. “Truth is, I was just missing my own baby brother, but at least I got to see him last Christmas.”

“How’s Austin doing? I know he’s still in the navy, over in the Persian Gulf the last I recall.”

“That sounds about right.” She stifled a yawn then regretted it. It wasn’t that she was bored...just extremely tired.

He stood up straight. “Well, I can assure you that the fire is completely under control, Mallory. If you need to catch some winks, there’s nothing to worry about now. You’re safe.”

She frowned toward the west where the sky was starting to glow like burnished gold. Nothing to worry about? She was safe? Really?

“I would like to ask you some questions about the fire,” he continued in an authoritative tone. “Just to fill out my report. If you’re too tired now, I can come by later. That is, if you’re sticking around awhile.” He looked slightly puzzled. “I mean, with your parents gone on vacation and all. You plan to stay here, anyway? By yourself?”

Before she could answer, she heard her phone buzzing inside the pocket of her linen jacket. Afraid it might be one of those nosy detectives again, demanding she return to the city, or maybe they wanted to lock her up...she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer it in front of him. Just the same, she reluctantly slipped it out to peek. But seeing it was a text message from “unknown” made her curious. The last text she’d gotten from “unknown” had contained a veiled threat. And, although the police had not taken it seriously, she had.

“Excuse me a minute,” she told Logan as she quickly read the words—shuddering at the meaning. This was no veiled threat. This was for real. With trembling knees, she sank back down into the wicker chair. As horrible as these words were, she read them again, letting the meaning sink into her.

You got lucky again. Ever see a burned corpse? Not pretty.

Someone definitely wanted her dead. She couldn’t help but think it was Brock Dennison. Despite his rock-solid alibi, this nightmare seemed related to him. She’d witnessed his dark side while dating Brock. And she’d watched him lose it when she broke up with him six weeks ago. In her mind, Brock Dennison was capable of anything. Even murder.

“Are you okay, Mallory?” Logan moved closer, peering down with concern.

She nervously slipped her phone back into her pocket. “I, uh, I don’t know.”

“I really don’t like to intrude, but I have to say something. I mean, it really feels like something’s wrong. Want to talk about it?”

She glanced to the left and the right, searching through the trees in every direction, almost as if she expected to spy a killer hiding out there. Or even Brock, although she knew that was crazy. But someone had set that fire. Logan had insinuated that it was arson. And even if it wasn’t Brock, someone had killed Kestra. And someone had threatened her. Was he out there now? Was he going to slit her throat the way he’d slit Kestra’s?

Feeling completely overwhelmed and frightened to the core, she broke, beginning to cry. No, it wasn’t just crying, it was sobbing—loud and uncontrollable sobbing. The next thing she knew, Logan had wrapped an arm around her shoulders and, helping her to her feet, he led her—practically carried her—back into the house.

When she regained her composure, or a semblance of it, she was seated on the old plaid couch in the living room, and Logan was sitting in her dad’s leather recliner directly across from her. Leaning forward, he studied her with more than just casual curiosity.

“Wanna talk?” he asked gently.

“I—uh—I don’t know,” she told him. “It’s kind of a mess and I really hate to involve you in it. I mean, well, it could be kind of dangerous.”

He made a crooked smile. “Hey, I’m a firefighter, danger is kinda my thing.”

She sniffed as she pulled out her phone again, trying to decide, but feeling too muddled to even think straight.

“Is this related to the fire?” His brow creased as he rubbed his chin.

She sighed. “I’m not sure. And, really, it makes no sense. Why would he...do that? But then again...there’s the text message. And unknown caller ID? I mean, I’m sure it’s from him. I mean someone I know...someone I don’t trust...someone I consider to be my enemy—and it’s pretty disturbing.”

“May I see it?” Logan held out his hand in a way that suggested authority, but at the same time his eyes were full of empathy.

She pulled up the text, then handed her phone to Logan.

“‘You got lucky again. Ever see a burned corpse? Not pretty.’” Logan looked alarmed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“It sounds like a very serious threat.”

“Yeah...” She looked down at the worn braided rug beneath her feet. The homely old rug had been here for as long as she could remember. Her great-grandmother had made it long before Mallory was born. For some reason, the even lines and predictable colors gave her a faint sense of comfort.

He handed her phone back. “Who sent you this?” he demanded.

“I’m not positive. But I honestly think it’s my ex-boyfriend. Or someone connected to him. No one believes me, though.”

“What kind of person is this?” He frowned. “I can’t believe you ever had a boyfriend who would write something like that. Even if he is an ex.”

“See.” She held up her hands. “I told you that no one believes me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He looked frustrated. “I mean, it’s hard to believe a girl like you would be involved with someone who would send a text like that.”

“Well, we’re estranged now. Very estranged.” She knew that was an understatement, but how much should she tell Logan? Could she really trust him? And would he even believe her? He already sounded doubtful.