“Yeah. Someone torched the mayor’s hay barn and a couple of Dumpsters behind the hardware store—also owned by the mayor. I got a copy of the report yesterday from the arson lab in Crestwood. They found accelerant on the debris samples. Gasoline in both cases, according to the chromatograms.”
“There could have been gas in the barn or the Dumpsters. People do dumb things when it comes to storing and disposing of flammables.”
“True. But gas in two Dumpsters? That’s improbable. And here’s an interesting thing. The debris sample from the barn was a chip of wood from an outside-facing slat.”
“That is interesting. Sounds like you have a firebug targeting your mayor. The guy should be thanking you for your diligence, not giving you grief.”
“I think he suspects his teenage son did the deeds. Personally, I think he’s right, but God forbid the kid be held accountable for anything, so I’m the enemy. That said, nothing has gone up in flames around here in over two weeks, so maybe the little prick realized I wouldn’t just let this go, and he decided to take up a different hobby.”
“You’re not the enemy here. The department would have you back.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” The response was automatic, and deliberately noncommittal, but in his heart, he’d already dismissed the option. Returning to Cincinnati didn’t hold any appeal. Despite his complaints about Buchanan, and the lackluster performance of the sheriff’s department, Bluelick no longer seemed like a dead end.
“We can talk more about it next week, at my anniversary party. You’re attending, right?”
He frowned with the effort of tracking the subject change. “Yes.”
“Great. Feel free to bring a date. My assistant will send you the details, but in a nutshell, Thursday night, eight o’clock, at Strattons. You remember the place?”
“I remember.” Many a night of debauchery had begun at Strattons. He considered his schedule. Next Thursday evening fell nicely into his forty-eight-hours-off shift. “Tell your assistant to put me down as a yes, plus one guest.”
“Great. Great.” He could practically hear the man rubbing his hands together through the phone. “Look forward to meeting your guest. I hope a group of foul-mouthed, rough-edged firefighters and their sidekicks don’t scare her away.”
One foul-mouthed, rough-edged firefighter hadn’t scared her away, so far. “I think she’ll be fine.” She’d outclass them all. He smiled, imaging his smooth-mannered Southern belle amid the Cinci crowd. It would be interesting.
…
The rapid patter of high heels on hardwood pulled Melody’s attention away from her phone.
“About time,” she said as Ginny dropped onto the barstool beside her.
“Sorry I’m late. I just had something between a near-death and a near-orgasmic experience.”
“What happened?”
Ginny raised a shaking hand to hold off the question, called out, “Double bourbon, Earl,” and then turned to Melody. “I walked over from the salon. I’d just stepped off the curb to cross Main when Justin Buchanan sped around the corner in his red Mustang and almost ran me down.”
“Oh my God. Are you okay?”
Earl put the drink in front of Ginny. She nodded and took a big swallow before continuing. “That was the near-death part of my experience. Here comes the near-orgasmic part. One second I’m hovering there, watching my impending doom hurtle toward me. The next, two big, strong arms catch me and pull me back against what feels like a solid wall of muscle. I’m literally swaddled in a man-wrap, shaking like a leaf, trying to catch my breath, and slowly noticing I’m not the only one…ahem…stimulated by the close call, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ve got the picture. Who was it?”
“You’ll never guess.”
“I won’t. Don’t even make me try. Tell me.”
She took another swallow of her drink. “Remember the guy I pointed out in church a couple weeks ago?”
“Wolverine? Holy smokes. Who is he?”
Ginny dropped her face into her hands. “I still don’t know.” She raised her head. “By the time I reclaimed my power of speech, he was already walking away. I called out a thank-you, but he just nodded and walked off.”
“Wow. No name.”
“Nope. Saved my life, and walked off into the sunset.” She finished her drink and put the glass on the bar with a small thunk. “How was your day?”
“Uneventful.” Her phone signaled an incoming text. She glanced down and couldn’t help smiling when she saw it was from Josh.