The probie just shook his head. "My God." His voice was thick, horrified.

Mitchell stepped forward, peering up under the brim of the probie's hat. "David?"

The probie pushed his hat back. "Mia? What are you doing here?"

"I should say the same thing to you. I knew you took the exam, but I thought you were still waiting for an assignment."

"Been with the 172 for three months. I guess since you're here we should assume these were homicides. That the fire was just to cover them up."

"That's a good assumption. Do you know Solliday?"

The probie shoved his hat under his arm. Sober gray eyes met Reed's and annoyance prickled as Reed studied his face. Even dirty, this guy was a calendar boy. "No. I'm David Hunter, the new guy."

"Reed Solliday, OFI. I take it you know each other."

One side of Mitchell's mouth lifted wryly. "Yeah, we've had our fun in the past."

The thought of Mitchell having fun with the pretty probie sent a wave of irritation through Reed, so hard and fast it shocked him. Whoa. If Mitchell and Hunter were a number, it was none of his damn business. This fire was. "Tell me what you saw."

"Nothing at first," Hunter admitted. "The smoke was too thick. Black. The spray went to vapor right way. Showered back down on us. We kept moving, checked the bedrooms and didn't find anybody in the beds. We finally got close to the kitchen." He closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively. "I almost stepped on her, Mia. She was…"

"It's okay. Not an easy sight even if you've seen it before. How was she laid out?"

Hunter took a breath. "Fetal."

Mahoney took off his hat, wiped at the sweat on his brow. "The fire was high up, Reed. Char lines at eye level. Just like the last one. And the stove was pulled away."

"What about the trash can in the living room?" he asked.

"Just a metal wastebasket filled with newspaper," Mahoney said.

"The girl we found Saturday was dead before the fire," Larry said. "This one probably was, too."

Mahoney blew out a breath. "Thanks. It helps a little. You done with us?"

Reed looked down at Mitchell. "You done?"

"Yeah. David… Tell your mom hi," she said in what was an obvious substitution.

Hunter's mouth lifted. "I will. Don't be a stranger."

Mahoney and Hunter walked away and Reed unclenched his jaw. "You can't go in yet," he said, annoyed with himself for his curt tone. "Your boots won't protect your feet from the heat." He turned for his SUV, Mitchell following behind him.

"When can Jack and his team go in?"

"An hour. Ben and Foster and I will go in first, but go ahead and call Unger." He sat on his tailgate to change into his boots. Her call completed, she dropped her phone in her pocket and watched him, fists on her hips. Her watching him, combined with the cold air and his own ire, made his fingers even clumsier on the clamps of his boots. Finally, Mitchell lightly smacked his hands away and took over the task.

"Are you always so stubborn about asking for help?" she snapped.

"Are you always so sensitive to other people's feelings?" he shot back and her chin immediately lifted, her eyes narrowed. Cold.

"No. That's why people like dealing with Abe better. But Abe's not here, so you're stuck dealing with me." She dropped her hands and stepped back. "Now you're ready, Sluggo. Check on our victim if you don't mind, since I don't have appropriate footwear."

Her sarcasm took the starch from his shorts. "Look, I…" What? You what, Solliday? "Thanks." He grabbed his kit and headed for the house. "Can you get somebody to keep the crowd back while I go in? Also, call the ME."

"Will do."

Mia watched him enter Hill's house, flashlight in one hand, his bag of gizmos in the other. Nice going. Once again, she'd stepped on toes without meaning to. Or fingers, in this case. Just get to work, Mia.

She drew Mr. Wright off to the side. "I'm Detective Mitchell. You knew Mrs. Hill?"

His shoulders sagged. "She's dead, then? Penny's dead?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry. Can you tell me exactly what you saw?"

He nodded. "I was asleep, but this squealing woke me up. I ran to the window and saw Penny's car take off down the street. A second later… Her house exploded."

"Did you see anybody behind the wheel, Mr. Wright?"

He shook his head miserably. "It was dark and it happened so fast… I'm sorry."

So was Mia. "Did she normally park her car in the driveway?"

"Just recently. Her daughter had to move out of her house into an apartment, so Penny was storing her stuff in the garage."

"Did you know Mrs. Hill's daughter?"

"I talked to Margaret once or twice, a month ago. She used to live in Milwaukee. I don't know where she's living now. Penny has a son in Cincinnati. His name is Mark."

"Do you know where Mrs. Hill worked?"

"She was a social worker."

Alarm bells went off. Social workers made great grudge targets. "Thank you." She pressed one of her cards in his cold hand. "If you remember anything, please call me."

She canvassed the crowd, but it seemed only Mr. Wright had seen anything of value. She walked to the back of the fire engine as they were rolling up the hose. David Hunter leaned with his back against the engine, his eyes closed, his face drawn.

"How are you, David?" she murmured and wearily he turned to look at her.

"How do you stand it?" he asked instead.

"Like you will. One day at a time. Most of yours won't be this way. Thankfully, most of mine won't, either." She rested her good shoulder against the side of the truck and looked up at him. He was taller than Solliday by several inches, but not nearly as broad. And David was clean-shaven, so there was none of that devil-look Solliday had down so well. "You sell your garage when you joined up?"

"No. I hired someone to run it for me. I go out there on my off days and yank engines. Whatever I need to do." He lifted a brow. "Your Alfa need a tune-up?"

"No, it's still good from the last one you gave it. So you're keeping busy."

He met her gaze squarely. "It seemed like the wisest thing to do."

David Hunter had a bad case of a wounded heart. Long ago he'd fallen for Dana, but Mia's friend had never seen it. Then Dana had fallen in love with someone else and nobody who'd seen Dana and Ethan Buchanan together thought they were anything less than perfect for each other. Mia was happier for her best friend than anyone else, but seeing the stark pain in David Hunter's eyes had always been like a kick in the gut. "Nobody knows, David. If it's up to me, nobody ever will."

His smile was sardonic. "I guess there's comfort in that somewhere." He pushed himself away from the truck. "So what's going on here, Mia. Really?"

"We don't know yet. Listen, have you seen any other fires that looked like this?"

"No, but I've only been here three months. You should ask Mahoney."

"I will. How about trash can fires? How many of them have you seen?"

"I'd have to think. A few, at least, but most of them are set by little kids, elementary school age." He looked back at the house. "This wasn't done by a kid."

She frowned. "Most arsonists are under the age of twenty, right?"

"Yeah. But your friend Solliday would be better for that kind of information."

He's not my friend. The sharp edge of the thought was unexpected. He's just temporary. "I'll ask him. Now I need to talk to Mahoney before you guys head out."

Tuesday, November 28, 1:35 a.m.

Now that, he thought, had gone a great deal better. He tossed a shovelful of mud to one side. Practice makes perfect, after all.