Margo looked between them, clearly recognizing that further argument would be futile. “Thank you both. I really do appreciate everything you’re doing.”
As they walked back to their vehicles, Holt noticed Tom’s worried expression. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“That we’re dealing with either a copycat who studied the original case from ten years ago very carefully,” Tom said, glancing back at the coffee shop, “or we never got the real arsonist in the first place.”
Holt nodded grimly. “Ten years ago, you had these same kinds of incidents and fires starting exactly like they are now. They targeted Margo, Nigel Frost, who no longer lives here, and Shaun Parker.”
“This is mimicking everything,” Tom agreed. “From the smaller fires to the first one at the campsite, the one at the farm, and right down to the incidents affecting Willa and Rad.” He gestured toward his bandaged head. “That shelf that hit me was definitely sabotaged. I could see where someone had loosened the mounting brackets.”
“So either we’re dealing with a copycat who knows every detail of the original case,” Holt stated, “or Gilbert Fry wasn’t the arsonist but another victim.”
“And the real arsonist is back to finish whatever they started,” Tom muttered darkly.
Later that afternoon, Holt was back in his temporary office at the police station, surrounded by files from both the recent incidents and the decade-old case. He’d been cross-referencing patterns, timelines, and personnel records, looking for any detail that might have been overlooked in the original investigation.
The sound of raised voices from the front of the building interrupted his concentration, and he recognized a familiar female voice, which made him pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“I want to see my husband,” the voice demanded imperiously.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Morrison, but Chief Morrison isn’t here,” came the patient reply from the desk officer. “Please, you can’t go back there, and I really shouldn’t leave the front desk unattended.”
“Then go back to it,” Victoria Morrison replied coldly. “I’ll wait in my husband’s office for him.”
Holt sighed heavily. This was exactly what he didn’t need right now. But he knew the young officer wouldn’t be able to handle Victoria’s force of personality, and there were only three people in the station at the moment.
He got up from his desk and walked to his office doorway. “Don’t you mean your ex-husband, Victoria?” he drawled.
Her head snapped around immediately, and her eyes lit up with obvious delight. “Holt! How wonderful to see you.”
Before Holt could react or step back, Victoria launched herself into his arms. He caught her reflexively to keep them both from falling backward, and she immediately pressed her lips against his in what was clearly intended to be a passionate kiss.
Holt was so startled by the unexpected assault that he froze for several seconds before his brain caught up with the situation. He pushed her away firmly, creating distance between them.
Before he could say anything in response to her outrageous behavior, Victoria gushed breathlessly, “It’s so good to see you again, Holt. You look absolutely wonderful.” She battered herfalse eyelashes, making him suppress a shudder as he suddenly felt like a rabbit caught in the sights of a predator. “We must have dinner together soon. I insist that you come to my house and I’ll get my new French chef to make us a delicious meal so we can catch up.”
Holt suppressed another shudder at the thought of spending an evening alone with Victoria. There was no denying she was beautiful and still stunning even at her age, but she was not his type. Holt had already managed to escape one Victoria-type woman, and he had no desire to get involved with another.
“Director Dillinger?” a young voice called from behind Victoria.
Holt tilted his head to see two teenage girls staring at them with wide eyes. It was Becky Parker, June’s granddaughter, with Zoe Peltz, Lacey’s granddaughter and Becky’s best friend.
“Hello, Zoe,” Holt replied, stepping around Victoria and moving toward the girls. “Hello, Becky. What brings you young ladies here today?”
Zoe held up a large wicker basket filled with fresh fruit, nuts, wine, and chocolates. “My grandmother asked me to bring this for you,” she said politely.
“And this one is for Chief Morrison,” Becky added, indicating the similar basket she was carrying.
“It’s to thank you both for helping Margo last night,” Zoe explained. “Grandmother heard about what happened and wanted to show her appreciation for helping Margo and Aunt Lucy.”
“Why, thank you very much,” Holt said warmly, accepting the basket. “I’ll make sure Chief Morrison gets his when he returns.”
“Thank you, Director Dillinger,” both girls said in unison, though their eyes kept darting between him and Victoria with obvious curiosity.
“Hello, Mrs. Morrison,” they added politely.
“Don’t you girls have somewhere else you need to be?” Victoria said dismissively, making a shooing motion with her hands as if they were stray animals.
The girls nodded quickly and hurried toward the exit, clearly uncomfortable with Victoria’s rude behavior.
