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Clearly, they were on the same page.
Beau put his body between hers and the arson investigator’s as they headed down the stairs. But she craned her head, and she was able to make out the letters on the back of Colton’s coveralls. Fire Inspector.
Once on the ground floor, Colton crossed his arms over his chest and waited. His impatience was clear. His left foot even tapped against the floor. When Avalon climbed off the last step, her gaze darted toward the den, and then back to him. She hated to leave without more answers. “The fire started on the bookcase.”
His nostrils flared. “I’m not supposed to discuss this case with civilians. I’m supposed to write my report, present it, and then?—”
“It’s clear that the fire burned the hottest there. When we were upstairs that night, I remember hearing a really loud whoosh.” No other way to describe it. “The sound scared the hell out of me.” She’d actually already been scared as all hell, but at that distinct sound, terror had crawled through her.
I’d heard that sound before. A very, very long time ago. Because the night of the fire in New Orleans? She’d heard that same, terrible whoosh as fire raced its way through her home.
Sympathy flashed on Colton’s face. Was that a crack in his armor? A chink she could use to her advantage?
Her lips curved down. “This is my second fire. I lost everything in the first one. I’ve tried to learn about fires since then.”
His right hand rose. Straightened his helmet.
“You start by looking for the origin of the fire. That’s step one, isn’t it?” She edged toward the den. “The bookcase looks like the origin. It burned the hardest.”
“Hottest.” He slipped toward the den, too.
“Because an accelerant was used on the bookshelf?”
His gaze was on the bookshelf. A quick nod. Barely perceptible. “Burn pattern starts there.” Once more, his right hand lifted. A flash of the scars on his palm before his fingers curled in—all except for the index finger that pointed toward the shelf. “You can see it span out. Accelerant was thrown at the shelf. Found pieces of a broken bottle. Would have led to the whoosh sound you heard.”
“Like a…Molotov cocktail?” Avalon asked carefully. That was the one used in all the movies.
“Don’t know what kind of accelerant was in the bottle. But I believe he hit twice. One hit there.” A point of his index finger at the bookshelf. “One there.” His finger swung toward the piano. “Very targeted. Honestly, if he’d wanted the place to go up, there were a lot of better ways to do it. All this did was cause localized damage.” His hand dropped to his side. “This info will be in my report.” A sniff. “And I’m not saying more. Not until I turn that file over to the detectives.”
“Which detectives would that be?” Beau asked casually. “So many work at the PD.”
“Cunninghan usually works on arsons with me. Always has ever since he came to town a few years ago. He’ll get the report first.”
“Thanks so much for the information.” Beau inclined his head toward the investigator. “And my apologies for the mishap with the knife.”
“Mishap?” Colton grunted. “That was no mishap. That was assault.”
Beau’s eyes narrowed. “After the attack on Avalon, I’m sure you can understand I don’t take lightly to strange men appearing in her bedroom. I’m afraid I had a bit of a flashback. Instinct took over.”
“Your instinct is to attack?”
“When I think she’s in danger, absolutely.”
Avalon twisted her hands in front of her body. “It was a mistake. My boyfriend is just extremely protective.”
Colton’s stare swept to Avalon. He nodded. “Yeah, all right. I get it.” Colton swiped his hand over his neck. “No harm done.” His shoulders squared. “But you two need to leave, now.”
They’d pushed as much as they could. “Thank you for the help,” Avalon said.
A curt nod.
She and Beau headed for the broken door.
“I-I know it’s hard.”
Colton’s voice stopped her. She looked back.
“Being trapped in the fire. I know how hard it can be.” He’d lifted his hand again. He opened it toward her. “I don’t go in the fires any longer. I lost my best friend in one. Tried to pull him out but…” His hand clenched. “You make it out of a fire once, you consider yourself damn lucky. You make it out of a fire twice, and I’d say you need to go buy yourself a lottery ticket.”
