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  Sean tromped back, looking for the “she” in question, and he was happy to find Brooke crouched in the grass.

  “Hey.”

  She glanced up and looked surprised, then wary. She stood up, and Sean smiled as he approached her. She wore gray coveralls with a Delphi Center logo on the breast pocket, and black leather work boots. Sean had seen Roland Delgado in identical coveralls the day before, but they looked a hell of a lot better on Brooke. Her knees were black with mud and she’d managed to get dirt on her cheek.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Was she glad to see him? Hard to tell, because she was tough to read. But he could hope.

  “Oh, you know”—he stepped closer—“working.”

  “This is your case?”

  “Depends. I hear it might be arson?”

  “Looking like it.” She gazed up at him for a moment, maybe waiting for him to explain. When he didn’t, she nodded toward the crawl space under the house. The back of the structure was built on stilts because the lot sloped down to the lake.

  “I was just checking out that wooden piling. You saw the fire dog up there?”

  “Marley,” Sean said. “We’ve met before.”

  “Yeah, well, Marley sniffed out some hydrocarbons down under the house near this piling. Which also happens to be near the fire’s point of origin, so that’s a red flag.”

  “Show me.”

  She hesitated a moment, then ducked under the structure and led him to a piling in the center. It was dim and moldy smelling under the house, and the ground was still damp from the water used to douse the blaze. Sean looked up at the charred wood above his head, hoping the thing wasn’t going to collapse on them.

  “Originally the fire was thought to be caused by a faulty hot-water heater in a closet above us.” She crouched in the mud, and Sean knelt beside her. “With no sign of accelerants in the home, investigators concluded the fire was accidental. But then they got hold of some other information that made them want to come back out for another look, so they called me out again, along with the canine unit.” She glanced at him. “What’s this have to do with your case, exactly?”

  “I don’t know yet. But the dead guy here has links to my other two murder vics.”

  Her eyebrows arched. “Really?”

  “Really. So, what did you find this time around?”

  “It’s unconfirmed.”

  “What do you think you found?”

  She hesitated a moment, as if deciding whether to trust him with an unproven theory.

  “Anything you can tell me could really help me out here, Brooke.”

  “Okay, first thing is, this is a very unusual arson.”

  “How?”

  “Well, there are all kinds of ways to intentionally set a fire, but most arsonists use accelerants, and they’re almost always poured on the floor.”

  “And you looked for that?”

  “I took samples of the carpet in the hallway near the hot-water heater closet, and also in the nearby bedroom where the victim was found. No accelerants.”

  “But Marley disagrees.”

  “He zeroed in on this piling.” With a glove-covered hand, she pulled a penlight from the pocket of her coveralls and pointed it up at the charred wooden slats supporting the floor. Light pierced through gaps in the burned-out patches of subfloor. “See this here?”

  “No.”

  “Here. You hold the flashlight.” She handed it to him, and he aimed it at the wooden slat as she took out a pair of tweezers. She reached for something snagged on the wood. Slowly, carefully, she tugged loose a scrap of fabric.

  “What is that?”

  “I don’t know yet, but it shouldn’t be here. If I had to guess? It’s the remnants of a rag that’s been soaked in some kind of flammable liquid, maybe gasoline or kerosene. I found more of these a couple boards over.”

  “What’d he do, tack them underneath the house and then light ’em up?”

  “Possibly.” She deposited the scrap into a small metal container and carefully tapped shut the lid.

  Sean pulled out his phone and took a picture of the burned wooden slats, then tucked his phone away and ducked low as he followed Brooke out from under the house.

  She crouched down beside her evidence kit and stowed her tools. “Whoever did this? He’s not your typical firebug.” She stood up.

  “Yeah, I’m not sure he’s a firebug at all. I don’t think pyromania is the motive here.” Sean’s gaze landed on the boathouse near the water. “You been down there yet?”

  “No.”

  Sean walked down the grassy slope and stepped onto the wooden decking that led to the boathouse. A small motorboat covered in a dusty tarp was suspended about four feet out of the water. Sean stared at the hoisting mechanism for a moment. He flipped the switch to activate it, but nothing moved.

  “The electrical’s out to the house,” Brooke said.

  Sean looked at the power line connecting the boathouse to the main house. Once again he took out his phone and snapped a picture, this time of Kreznik’s boat.

  “What is it?” Brooke asked.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “You really think it’s related to your murder case?”

  “Maybe. How long will it take you to run that evidence?”

  She glanced up the hill at the blackened remains of Kreznik’s fishing cabin. Then she looked back at him, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and wipe the smudge of dirt from her face.

  “Well, I’ve got some other things on my plate. When do you need this? And don’t you dare say today.”

  He smiled.

  “You detectives are all alike.” She sighed. “Okay, I’ll bump you to the front of the line, but don’t call and bug me.”

  “Who, me?”

  “Interruptions slow me down.”

  “I got it.”

  “If I come up with anything, I’ll call you.”

  “Call me even if you don’t.”

  • • •

  Sixty-three miles. Sixty minutes. But it may as well have been sixty hours, as far as Dani was concerned.

  She sat in the passenger seat, her nerves jumping as she stared out the window and tried to quell her emotions.

  Meanwhile, Scott seemed perfectly calm. And why shouldn’t he be? He wasn’t the one who stood to get fired for riding in a car with her.

  Although car was being generous. It was more like a soda can. A bright yellow one. Scott had slid the seat back as far as it would go after climbing behind the wheel, and even then his knees were bent at a ridiculous angle. But there hadn’t been much selection. None at all, in fact. All the rental car desks were overrun with festivalgoers, and Scott had been lucky to get anything. Dani would bet money he’d flirted his sexy ass off just to get the keys to this crappy little subcompact.

  “So, what’s the game plan?” Scott glanced at her. “Does Nathan Collins know you’re coming?”

  She turned to look at him.

  “You have an appointment or you plan to just show up?”

  She didn’t answer. How did he know about Nathan Collins, specifically?

  Collins was the science professor both James and Tessa had been in touch with just days before they were murdered. Dani had tracked down the name through the victims’ cell phone records, but there was no way Scott had that kind of access. Was there a leak in her department? Had Ric or Sean talked to him?

  Ric wouldn’t do that. And neither would Sean, who’d made it clear he didn’t even like Scott. No way would he leak sensitive information to him. But someone else might have.

  Rachel.

  Scott and the prosecutor were friends, possibly more. They definitely had a past together. Why did that bother her? Because it did. No point in pretending. She was jealous, which was absurd, because she had absolutely no claim on this man. None.

  Scott took his eyes off the road to look at her. “What is this, the silent treatment?”

  “How
do you know about Nathan Collins? And don’t you dare lie to me.”

  The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Or what?”

  “Cut the crap, Scott. Who’s feeding you information?”

  “No one.”

  “Where’d you get that name?”

  “Google.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Simple Internet search. Ayers and Kreznik coauthored a paper together when they were at Trinity. Something about nuclear plasmids. The third author on the paper was Nathan Collins, PhD.” He glanced at her. “What, you didn’t know?”

  She looked out the window.

  “Dani?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Where’d you get his name?”

  She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

  “You’re not telling me jack. I’m telling you. These two guys worked with Collins on some project at Trinity. Tessa did, too. She didn’t author the paper, but her name is in the acknowledgments. So you’ve got all three victims linked to the man.”

  Dani looked at him, and he seemed pretty pleased with himself to have given her something she didn’t already have. She gritted her teeth and turned away.

  “You’re pissed I came out here.”

  “You’re perceptive.”

  “And yet here you are with me.” He gave her that cocky half smile that never failed to make her pulse race.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Scott. You should have stayed home and let the investigators handle this.”

  “I’m not about to sit back and let other people determine my fate. That’s not how I operate.” He glanced at her. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “For what?”

  “For chauffeuring you around all day. Now, get the chip off your shoulder and tell me how you want to do this.”

  She sighed. “He has a class that lets out at four thirty, according to the summer school course schedule. Then he has office hours. I plan to catch him there.”

  “You didn’t tell him you were coming, then?”

  “Why would I? If he’s guilty of something criminal, that gives him time to run. Even if he’s not, he might have something to hide, and that gives him time to concoct a story. It’s best if I catch him off guard.”

  “You think he’s a suspect?”

  “I think he at least knows something. He has a connection to three people who were killed within three days, and all three of them called him shortly before they died. I mean, what are the odds that’s a coincidence?”

  She looked at Scott, but he didn’t answer. He’d gone quiet again, like he had been for most of the drive. He could do that, just tune people out as though they didn’t exist.

  She shifted her attention to the scenery. They were well out of the city now, and the landscape was sparsely populated, dotted with livestock and scrub trees and the occasional house. She’d never been to New Mexico before, and it was prettier than she’d expected.

  She looked at Scott, with his strong profile and his wide shoulders and his big hand resting on the steering wheel. Even in their ridiculous car, he looked utterly relaxed. There was a certain confidence about everything he did, and she envied it. It had been there all along, but his special ops training had magnified it.

  He glanced at her. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She looked at the navigation system. “Your exit’s coming up soon. Mission Hill.”

  “I got it.”

  She spotted the sign for Mission Hill, population thirty-two hundred. The college was nestled near the banks of a creek on the west side of town.

  They exited the freeway, and a sign came into view along the feeder road.

  “ ‘Trinity University, three miles,’ ” Scott recited.

  Dani took out her phone and pulled up the map of the campus as Scott navigated his way through town. Dani noted exactly four stoplights along Main Street. Besides a few restaurants and gas stations, it wasn’t much of a town.

  Another sign pointed to campus. Scott hung a left.

  “Okay, according to the college website,” Dani said, “there’s visitor parking in front of the admissions office, and the biology building is just across the quad.”

  He silently followed her directions, slowing for the turn. The campus was small and compact. The buildings were white adobe with red-tile roofs, and many were surrounded by walled courtyards dripping with scarlet bougainvillea. The tallest building on campus was a Spanish-style church with a bell tower.

  Scott was suspiciously quiet as he turned into the admissions office parking lot and slipped into a space. Dani undid her seat belt and grabbed her bag off the floor.

  “I’ll text you when I’m done.”

  He clamped a hand over her arm. “Hold on.”

  “What?”

  “You’re about to ambush a guy who may or may not have murdered three people.”

  “Most likely, he didn’t murder anybody. I’m hoping he has a lead for me.”

  “Whatever. You’re not going in there alone.”

  She shook off his grip. “You cannot, under any circumstances, be part of this interview. Get real, Scott.”

  He pulled out his Sig and checked the magazine.

  “Hello? Are you listening?”

  He pushed open the door. “Interview’s all yours, babe, but I plan to be around.”

  “Scott—”

  “Relax.” He smiled. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

  • • •

  Scott was right.

  She didn’t even see him as she stood in the biology office questioning the clerk behind the counter about the whereabouts of Nathan Collins, who had failed to show up for his scheduled office hours.

  “I’m afraid Dr. Collins is unavailable,” the woman said cheerfully. She was short, midfifties, and had a friendly smile that was completely at odds with the bulldog look in her eyes. This woman was a gatekeeper, and Dani had found the best way to deal with gatekeepers was to get straight to the point. She pulled out her badge and slid it across the counter.

  “I need to see the professor immediately. Where can I find him?”

  The woman’s brow furrowed as she stared down at the shield, and Dani hoped she wouldn’t make a fuss about jurisdiction. “Uh . . .” She glanced up. “Is this a university matter or—”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. Where can I find him?”

  Another glance at the badge, and she seemed to come to a decision. “Just a moment.” She pivoted to her computer and did some clicking around, presumably bringing up the professor’s contact info.

  “Dr. Collins is on sabbatical right now. Would you like to leave a message for him on his department voice mail or—”

  “Sabbatical?” Dani leaned over and peered down at the computer screen. “The course catalog has him teaching Introductory Biochem Tuesday/Thursday at three.”

  “That information is out-of-date, I’m afraid.” The woman jotted some notes on a yellow sticky pad, then peeled it off and handed it over the counter. “Here is his contact information.”

  “Do you know if he’s traveling or—”

  “That I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  She gave a saccharine smile. “All I have is his address.”

  Dani returned to the car, where Scott was already waiting in the driver’s seat with the air-conditioning blasting. Her only proof that he’d been shadowing her was the mist of sweat on his forehead.

  She tried not to get distracted by his large, muscular build as she leaned over and tapped the professor’s address into the navigation system.

  “You buy it?” Scott asked her.

  “Buy what?”

  “The sabbatical thing. Sounds like he changed his plans at the last minute.”

  “I don’t know.” Dani glanced at the biology building as Scott backed from the space. Where had he been lurking to overhear all that? She didn’t know. He had the ability to drift in and out of places like smoke whe
n he wanted to, which should have been impossible given his size.

  “Looks like about a twenty-minute drive,” Scott said, surveying the map that popped up on the navigation system.

  “Appears to be a rural area.”

  “Lot of ranches around here.”

  Scott hung a left onto the road they’d used before as Dani checked her phone for any messages. She had a text from Ric.

  Kreznik now a homicide. Case reopened by CCSO.

  So the Clarke County Sheriff’s Office had reclassified the case. Kelsey or the fire investigators must have turned up something new. Or maybe a witness had come forward with new information.

  “There’s something weird going on here,” Scott said.

  “I agree with you.” Dani glanced around at the idyllic-looking campus. What did this place have to do with three recent homicides?

  Scott pulled back onto Main Street, and Dani surveyed the town. Like the campus, it was small. The Spanish architecture gave it an old-fashioned look, although the school itself was younger than Dani.

  “I assume you ran a background check on this guy Collins?” Scott asked.

  “No arrests, no outstanding warrants, nothing much of interest. He has a six-month-old speeding ticket in Roswell, New Mexico, and that’s it. Guy’s clean.” She shook her head. “So it’s probably not likely he suddenly decided to fly down to Texas and murder three people. But still . . .”

  Scott looked at her. “Yeah?”

  “I agree with you. Something’s weird here.” She glanced down at her phone again. “I’ll get a better feel for it when I talk to Collins.”

  “You’re good at reading people.”

  She glanced up at him, surprised by the compliment.

  He looked at her. “Don’t look so shocked. You’re a skilled detective.”

  She turned away. Compliments made her uneasy, especially coming from Scott.

  Silence settled over the car. Her nerves were back. She had misgivings about being here with him. Even aside from the thought of Reynolds finding out, she was worried Scott would distract her. He did that. Always. And she couldn’t afford distractions right now because this investigation was getting increasingly complex and demanded her undivided attention.

  “So, are you going to tell me about that?” He gave her a sidelong look.