Across the street, the school’s parking lot is beginning to fill with staff vehicles. As the deputy gets back in his car, I watch a compact SUV pull into the school’s lot, and it triggers a recent memory.
Three weeks ago, I had been leaving the station at the end of my shift when a black sedan with dark-tinted windows drove slowly past the school’s entrance. At the same time, Elena Ramirez and her son were walking out to the lot.
Even from a distance, I could see the moment she spotted the car. She stopped mid-step and went stiff. She pulled her son closer, then continued on at a faster pace.
I jogged over as the car rolled by, even though I’d been intentionally keeping my distance since finding outshe was in Moon Ridge.
“You all right?” I asked, only getting close enough to be heard without yelling.
She was rattled and doing her best to hide it. I was in uniform, and thankfully, she saw me only as the town’s fire marshal, not as the person responsible for destroying her life.
“I’m fine.” She smoothed a hand over the loose wisps of dark hair at her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed with pink, and her lips curved into a tight, forced smile. “I just remembered something I forgot to do.”
Her voice was even, but her big brown eyes were wide and wary as she tracked the sedan’s progress down the street and out of sight. She glanced back twice more before unlocking her vehicle.
At the time, I’d let it go. There was no overt threat. She denied there being an issue, and I didn’t want to linger in her presence.
Now, with a burned building behind me and her empty file folder in my bag, that incident takes on new significance.
She and her son are getting out of her SUV. Her gaze goes immediately to the records building, and as she assesses the damage that’s visible from the front, she stiffens just like she did that day.
When T.J. gets out, Elena hugs him, then sends him toward the entrance. She watches him until he’s inside, and I force myself to watch, too, even though the sight of the boy’s dark head hits like a punch to the gut.
Moon Ridge is a small town, and while I’ve tried to avoid them, our paths have crossed more than once over the past several months.
For better or worse, we’re about to meet again, because Elena has squared her shoulders and is crossing the street, heading straight toward me.
CHAPTER 2
BUCK
“What happened?” Her voice is level. Professional.
“Fire in the middle of the night. The crew contained it to this structure.”
She looks past me, studying the facade. Maybe it’s an occupational habit, but I can’t stop myself from studying her every time I see her, looking for signs that tell me she’s okay. That’s she’s not mired in grief, living in misery.
When I found out she moved here, I was hoping she and T.J. weren’t alone. I tell myself I wish she had a new husband, but that’s not exactly true.
Her eyes are guarded, but there are no dark circles. Her skin has a healthy glow. She looks good in the soft blue turtleneck that shows under her partially-unzipped coat.
I’m noticing more than I should.
Then she looks back at me, and I’m caught. “Are you in charge of this?” Her eyes flicker to the hard hat under my arm and to the logo on my jacket.
“Town fire marshal.” The appropriate thing would be to tell her my name, but I don’t.
“Do you think it was faulty wiring? It’s a pretty old building, but I was assured it was up to code.”
“It doesn’t appear to be electrical.”
She frowns. “Was anyone hurt?” She looks me fully in the face for the first time, and I suddenly feel like I’m wearing a weighted vest.
“No one was hurt.” That’s one small piece of good news I can give her. Likely the only piece.
A worry line on her forehead smooths, but her expression is still tense. “Why the crime scene tape? Is that customary when there’s been a fire?”
“The fire appears to have been intentional,” I say.
