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"I'll get one guy to scan in here, and we'll get another one in the garage. If you could come with me and get the locks and alarms?" He punched a thumb over his shoulder.
She followed the chief out, keys and phone still clenched in her fists. The air outside smelled a lot better. She strode to the garage foyer door, unlocked it, and reached for the handle.
"Stop!"
Erin spun to face Chief Victor, puzzled.
"There could be a back draft when you open the door. Please stand away."
"Okay. This is the foyer. The main garage door is to the left."
He nodded and, standing off to the side, used a long metal tool to pull the door open. Nothing happened. She pushed through the firefighters to unlock the garage door and the upstairs apartment, then went back outside. Again, no whoosh of fire, thank heavens. Firefighters tromped in, big rubber boots smacking against the concrete, shining small sensors with red laser beams on the walls. They scanned each wall and ceiling carefully but found nothing. Eventually, everyone but the deputy and the fire chief left.
"I hate to tell you 'I told you so,' Mrs. Moore, but you definitely need a surveillance system." The deputy shook his head.
She grimaced. "Call me Erin, please. I know you're right, but I didn't think I'd need one today. Silly me."
"The Custs are powerful, and Chaz has always been a bully." Chief Victor scowled. "By the way, while I'm very happy you could put the fire out by yourself, please reconsider running into burning buildings. It's not good for your health. If the fire was a little farther along, you could have died from smoke inhalation. It really is our job, and we're equipped for it." The chief's tone was desert-dry.
Erin nodded. "I thought about that when I opened the door, Chief, but when I saw what was burning, I knew there was a little time. Those were cleaning cloths from my dirty hamper—I could see the coffee stains, and I knew they'd be damp. At least for a while. Whoever set this, they weren't too bright."
Both men snort-laughed. The deputy said, "True, that. A tech has already checked your drive-through window for prints—there's nothing but smudges, probably from gloves. The window was popped out; it's not even broken. It wasn't a pro, but it wasn't an idiot either. You need that surveillance sooner rather than later."
"Copy that, Deputy. It's the first thing on my list." An expense she couldn’t afford but less expensive than her business burning down.
They said goodbye. She checked Ryan's apartment first—the boxes were pushed away from the walls, but a quick vacuum run had the dirt from the firefighters’ boots cleaned up. The stairs, she left for later. With no damage, she didn’t need to tell Ryan about the incident; there was no need to worry him more. Although with him living above the shop, he was at more risk than she was. She entered the garage. It was fine—a little more dirt wouldn't hurt anything—and the coffee shop didn't take long to sweep. The nasty burned smell would take longer to fade. She popped the drive-through window back in and resolved to install locking security bars inside immediately.
Finally, she hopped back in Smoky and put him in the house garage. She wanted him with her, safe and sound.
Dragging her groceries into the house, Erin put them away and did a little research on surveillance systems. Mostly, she learned she didn't really want to do it herself, but she could, and it wasn’t quite as expensive as she thought The female deputy sheriff called and told her she'd be by later to take the pictures, so Erin gave herself the rest of the day off. She poured an iced tea, put her feet up, and pulled out her e-reader.
Erin awoke to a loud knocking. Dang—must have drifted off. "Just a second!" At the door, she looked through the side window. A female deputy sheriff had one hand raised to knock again, so she opened the door. "Come on in. Can I get you some iced tea?" The blast of afternoon heat made the offer automatic.
"No, thanks. Going to snap these photos and get back on the road. Lots of speeding tourists today. I'm Deputy Enich." She was shorter and wider than Erin, but the wide was all muscle—she looked like a real bulldog, a pretty one. The bullet-resistant vest probably contributed to the impression of solidity.
"Nice to meet you, Deputy. Erin Moore." They shook hands. "Where do you want to do this?"
"Wherever you're comfortable. Maybe your bedroom?"
She led the way back, and the deputy closed the door. "Where are the bruises?"
"On my waist and left breast."
"Any bite marks?"
Erin wrinkled her nose. "I don't think so. He was behind me."
The deputy grimaced. "Sometimes, they bite the back of the neck."
Erin snorted. "He's half a foot shorter than I am. He couldn't reach my neck."
"If you can put on a workout bra and low-cut underwear, I'll take pictures of the bruising around your waist first, then I'll try to take close-ups of the breast so it doesn't become a porno-pic. Okay?"
"Sounds good. I've got a low-cut workout bra that will show the thumb print pretty well."
"Perfect." She snapped the photos and let Erin see them before packing up her camera and leaving.
Erin checked—she had enough time for a quick shower. The deputy was very professional and careful, but she felt dirty and slimy, remembering Cust's hands on her. She shuddered and jumped in the shower, then dressed quickly in shorts and a T-shirt but left her hair wet. It would be hot on the patio.
