* * *
“I hadno idea bedsheets were that flammable,” Jasmine said. Her ponytail was sagging, and she had bits of ash all over her.
“I think the fake spiders acted like a super accelerant,” Josie mused. Her cheeks and chin were smeared black with soot.
“You think?” Riley snapped. She was dressed in a borrowed sweatshirt from Jim that came down to her knees and she held one of the man’s Yorkies. They shared the sidewalk with most of the rest of the neighborhood.
“I can’t believe you dragged him out of the house by his hair,” Jim said to Riley.
“He couldn’t walk very well after Josie punched him in the face and he fell down the stairs.”
None of the spectators looked overly upset as a handcuffed and flailing Lance howled about spiders while two officers half carried, half dragged him to a waiting patrol car. Behind him, flames shot out of the second floor of his house.
“It’s just so beautiful,” Jim whispered, pausing to wipe a tear on Highness’s fur.
Josie nodded toward the fire and rolled back on her heels. “Shouldn’t you be documenting this for your client?” she asked Riley.
She shook her head vehemently. “Nobody is documenting anything. We were never here. Let’s go before someone sees us and starts asking questions.”
“Riley Thorn, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, shit,” Riley said, trying to burrow farther into Jim’s hoodie as Sergeant Mabel Jones approached from the other side of the caution tape.
“We were just out for a walk,” Jasmine said, sliding an arm through Riley’s.
“Yeah,” Josie agreed. “Our friend Jim here has a nice neighborhood for night walks.”
Jim waved with a dog in his hand. “This is Highness.”
“Walk,” Riley croaked. “We like to walk.” She grunted as Jasmine and Josie both elbowed her from opposite sides. Even Princess looked at her like she was an idiot. Yorkies could be so judgmental. “What are you doing here? Isn’t this the wrong side of the river for you?”
“It’s a two-alarm blaze, so they called in extra units,” she explained. “Plus I was spending the night at my boyfriend’s.” Mabel nodded toward a tall, studly firefighter who looked like he’d just stepped off a calendar with puppies. He blew her a kiss before dragging a hose up the Rhinehards’ driveway.
“Wow,” Jasmine said. “Nicely done.”
“Thanks. You got a minute?” Mabel asked Riley.
“Er. Uh. Sure.” Riley handed the dog to Josie and followed the curvy cop farther down the crime scene tape, wondering what lawyer she should call from the police station since she was about to be arrested with the only attorney she knew.
“Okay. You didn’t hear this from me,” Mabel began.
“Hear what?”
“The thing I didn’t tell you yet.”
“Oh, right.” Riley bobbed her head and willed herself to not act like an arson-causing idiot.
“That unattached digit that showed up at your house today? They ran the print. It belonged to an FDA data auditor named Wilson Trots.”
Riley frowned. “FDA as in Food and Drug Administration?”
Mabel nodded, scanning the crowd. “Figured Santiago and Weber might be interested in that information.”
“Thanks, Mabel. I mean, Sergeant,” Riley said. “I’ll make sure they get the message.”
“Maybe don’t tell Weber it was me who told you. He gets a stick up his ass about right and wrong,” Mabel suggested.
“Along those lines, maybe don’t mention that you saw me and my friends here,” Riley said.
