“No, I didn’t,” she admitted.

“All those stories you did about me, and you never mentioned that.”

“I didn’t know it.”

“But you should have, shouldn’t you? You were the reporter covering my story, you should have gathered all the facts. Instead you were busy sweeping up the dirt.”

“I’m sorry.”

He gave the humble interior of the cabin a scornful glance. “A little late for apologies.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, a bit huskily.

He maintained his hostile silence for several long moments, then muttered “Screw it,” and continued his account in a neutral tone of voice. “Pat Wickham, George McGowan, and Cobb Fordyce. Do those names mean anything to you?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“Those three and Jay saved dozens of lives that day. They got people out of the building. Even before the first fire trucks arrived, they risked their lives to lead people out. As catastrophic as the fire was, only seven people died. If not for those four men, there would have been many more casualties.”

Frowning, he said, “The four of them did lead people out. They did save lives.”

“So you don’t dispute that?”

“Not at all. When I arrived, it was a chaotic scene. People suffering from burns and smoke inhalation but weeping with relief that they’d escaped. Firemen battling the blaze. Policemen trying to maintain some semblance of organization. EMTs dispensing oxygen and performing triage, dispatching the worst of the injured to the hospital. Those four refused to go, even though they were near collapse. On oxygen. Scorched. You’ve seen the pictures. Cameras don’t lie.”

The bitterness with which he’d said that caused Britt to withhold her observation for several seconds. Then she said quietly, “Your best friend Jay was hailed a hero.”

“Overnight.”

She had dipped her toe in, she might just as well take the plunge. “Saving people from a fire.”

He came up out of his chair. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“That I was jealous of Jay because he got famous for doing what I was supposed to do. That I resented his becoming a hero in my field of expertise.”

“Were you jealous? Did you resent it?”

“No!”

“Are you human?”

CHAPTER 9

BRITT HELD HER BREATH, WONDERING HOW RALEY WOULD react to the sensitive question.

He rolled his shoulders defensively and took a breath. “Okay, maybe I was a little pissed. Jay teased me about it. ‘I be the cop, you be the fireman, remember?’ He’d say it in that way of his, with that smile, and I knew he was ribbing, but, yeah, here I had gone through the training and done the studying, and then, in typical Jay Burgess fashion, he sails in and grabs the glory. Lots of glory.”

“Anybody would resent that, Raley.”

“On the other hand, I was proud of him and damn glad he’d saved all those lives. I was also grateful that he had survived.”

“That was the purpose of the party, wasn’t it? To celebrate his survival?”

“That’s what he said. He wanted to celebrate his rise from the ashes. I told him I couldn’t make it because of work, but Jay called me on the afternoon of the party. He said…”

“Don’t let me down, Raley. You gotta be there. How can I have a party without you?”

Raley sighed into the telephone. From second grade, when Jay had talked him into putting a cricket in their teacher’s desk drawer, he’d been wheedling Raley into doing things he didn’t want to do. When Jay set his mind to something, he was irrepressible, and he was determined to have Raley at his party.

“I’ve been working day and night, Jay.”

“So have I. That’s never stopped us from taking time off to party.”

“This is different. This investigation-”

“Will keep. For a few hours, anyway. Stop by long enough to have a beer. I’ve rented a frozen margarita machine, but for non-drinkers, I’ll have a keg.”

Raley laughed. “Jay, beer is an alcoholic beverage.”

“You’re kidding. It is?”

The two friends laughed, then Jay said, “It won’t be a party without you, buddy.”

Raley still hedged. His days were long. His nights were spent reviewing the information he gleaned during the days. Consequently, he was working around the clock.

He’d been appointed to assist the department’s senior arson investigator, a craggy middle-aged man named Teddy Brunner. Brunner was a veteran and probably knew more about fires than anyone else in the department. But it was Raley who put notices about seminars and conferences under the chief’s nose. When budget was the only thing preventing him from attending these conferences, he paid his own tuition, considering the out-of-pocket expense an investment in his future.

Although Brunner was the veteran, Raley had two college degrees to his credit, and advanced, scientific knowledge on firefighting. By pooling their resources, they made a good team. Raley didn’t flaunt his formal education because he respected the older fireman’s decades of experience.

Brunner was occasionally cantankerous and short with him. Raley realized he probably felt threatened by him and his better understanding of new technology, but he was also gradually winning Brunner’s respect. Raley tried hard to keep the working relationship on an even keel.

But any way you sliced it, being appointed Brunner’s apprentice on such an important investigation was an indication that he was being groomed to be the senior investigator’s successor whenever the older man chose to retire. It was an enormous opportunity. As important, it would signify a personal achievement, the culmination of years of study and hard work. Because such a critical career step was at stake, he didn’t want to risk any break in his concentration.

Jay could shatter a monk’s concentration. And he never took no for an answer. “Come on, Raley. Can I count on you to be there?”

Again Raley stalled by telling Jay that Hallie was out of town. “She’s on a business trip and won’t be back till tomorrow.”

“She doesn’t trust you to come stag? That’s an awfully short leash she’s got you on.”

Jay frequently gibed Raley about his upcoming marriage, reminding him of the pleasurable benefits to be had by staying romantically footloose. The teasing didn’t bother Raley. He looked forward to matrimony, monogamy, and spending the rest of his life with Hallie.

He also suspected that his friend was secretly jealous of his relationship with Hallie, the likes of which Jay had never shared with a woman, and that the taunting was a product of envy.

Jay often gazed moony-eyed at Hallie, saying, “I might consider marriage myself if I could have Hallie. You snared the last good woman, Raley, you lucky s.o.b.” Hallie laughed off his foolishness, as did Raley. Both knew that Jay wouldn’t trade bachelorhood for a relationship where fidelity was at least expected, if not required.

“She trusts me,” Raley said. “It’s just that it won’t be any fun to go to a party without her.”

“Bring Candy. She can be your date.”

Raley guffawed. Candy Orrin had grown up with them. She was several years younger, but over one summer, when she’d talked their coach into letting her be “ball boy” for their baseball team, she’d become their shadow.

She was a tomboy who could outrun, outhit, outshoot, outcuss, and when they were older, outdrink them. She was great fun and a good friend but hardly a substitute for Hallie, and he told Jay so.

Jay chuckled. “I hear you, man. Candy hasn’t got Hallie’s grace, charm, and beauty. By the way, have I told you I’m secretly in love with your woman?”

“About a hundred times.”

“I have? Well, just so you know. Where was I?”

“Candy hasn’t got-”

“Right. She’s as far from Hallie as, say, you are from me.”

“Ha-ha.”