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Her hand reached over and squeezed his as he gripped the steering wheel. “I know where the fire was more contained. Another place we can look that might have clues for us.”
Beau raised a brow as he waited for her to continue.
“My house,” she told him, even as her gaze swept once more to the twisting, heaving fire. “The fire didn’t get to spread too far in my home. Maybe there is something there that can help us. Something Slater dropped. Something the arsonist left behind. Or if there isn’t anything in the house, let’s try talking to my neighbors. Maybe one of them saw something.”
Lots of options. He knew she needed to act. And not just wait while the world kept burning.
He glanced back to make sure the road was clear behind him. Then Beau threw the car into reverse. Whipped around. He hauled ass out of there, but when Beau peered in his rearview mirror, he blinked.
A firefighter—in full mask and turnout gear—was in the middle of the road. The firefighter seemed to be staring after them. Just staring.
Beau braked. The car screeched. “Sonofabitch.”
He jumped out, instincts screaming, but…
No firefighter was staring after him. All of the firefighters were swarming toward the house. No one was watching them.
But I swear, one was. One. Was.
“Beau?”
He climbed back into the car.
“Uh, want to tell me what just happened?”
Once more, he looked into the rearview mirror. “You can’t tell jackshit about them when they’re in their masks and turnout gear.”
“I think they wear that for protection. Fireproof stuff, you know.”
“You can’t tell who you’re looking at. You can’t tell if the person behind the mask is even a real damn firefighter.”
“What?” She squirmed and glanced back.
“You get the uniform. You get the mask. You blend right in.” His mind was going a hundred miles an hour. “One minute, the fire at my bar seemed to be out. The next, the place was igniting like a bomb went off inside of it.”
“You heard Lieutenant Vaughn. Reflashing can happen.”
Sure. Another arson could happen, too. “What if someone went in and restarted the fire? All of those people in uniforms…we don’t know who the hell belonged there and who didn’t. I was so sure the bastard was watching my bar burn. What if he was watching and wearing a firefighter’s uniform? No one would have even looked twice at him.” Such an easy way to get close to the fire.
Silence.
Great. She was probably going to tell him that he was being crazy. But…
“What if…” Avalon’s voice was halting. “What if he did belong there?”
He slanted a fast glance her way.
“The people who know the most about fires?” She pressed her lips together. “They’re firefighters. What if—all along—the bad guy has been someone that the rest of the world thinks is a hero?”
He pushed the gas pedal down harder and said once more, “Sonofabitch.”
“Firefighters!” Beau slammed the driver side door of the Jag and stalked around to Avalon’s side. He yanked open her door even as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Dammit, Lane, I know you heard me the first time!”
Avalon climbed out of the car. Her gaze darted from him to the dark house that waited about thirty feet away. Her house.
A yellow line of tape—CAUTION DO NOT ENTER—stretched from one column on her porch to the other. The tape flapped lightly in the hot breeze.
“We both know that you and Ophelia have access to not-quite-legal means of acquiring intel. I need you to look back at the fires in Louisiana and see which firefighters might have responded to all the calls. See who was on the scenes. Then see if any of those names match up with the firefighters who responded to the blazes that took the two victims that we have after New Orleans.”
