Deadly Heat (Deadly #2)(88)

But Phoenix hadn’t called in Kyle’s death. There’d been no taunts about saving the victim. No challenge to the firefighters to get there first.

Could the bastard be changing his rules?

Fuck, yeah, he had changed the rules. Kyle hadn’t deserved any “punishment.” Phoenix had torched him to cover his own ass.

“It’s a house fire on Delaney Boulevard.” Max licked his lips. “We got word that there could be some kids inside. A neighbor called it in. She didn’t know if the family had gotten out. The woman just saw the flames.”

Kenton took a breath. She’s safe. Doing her job.

“The kids—they’re always hard for Lora. For all of us.” Max rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Damn but I hope they get them out.”

So did he.

“Those cops you had tailing her—they’re on the way to the scene.”

They’d damn well better stay close. “Delaney Boulevard?”

A quick nod.

And Kenton knew that he’d be chasing a fire truck.

Because it could be a trap. Just like the others.


Luke opened the door of the viewing room. He’d stayed back and let the team on task do their jobs. But it was quiet now. The captain was long gone, and Ramirez was on the phone with Hyde, briefing the boss on the body that they’d found today and on the detective they’d just grilled.

Sam watched Monica begin her interrogation in the adjacent room. “I don’t want it to be him,” Sam said.

“I know.”

“I want people to just be what they should be.” Softer. “He should be a good cop.”

Luke watched through the glass as Monica pulled out a chair and sat in front of Malone. Someone had turned the sound off in this room so he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Luke could see the movement of Monica’s lips. “Maybe he is.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I just want to go back to the way things were before.”

Before a sick f*ck had taken her, tortured her, and made her wish for death. “If you need more time off…”

“That’s not going to cut it. Maybe I need out.”

Now she had him tensing. “Of the SSD?”

Her dark eyes opened. “Maybe. Maybe I just can’t cut it anymore, Luke. Maybe I’m just tired of trying to figure out who the good guys are and—” She glanced at the window. “And who’s just pretending to be good.”

“Think about this, Sam. Don’t rush to a decision. You’ve just come back—”

“And I’m shaking apart!” She held her hands up, and he saw the quiver of her fingers. “I was in that damn room with Kenton, and I thought I was going to be sick. Every second, I was shaking. My stomach twisted, and my chest hurt so bad I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

He hadn’t seen the interrogation, but he’d been in the hallway and he knew, “You didn’t run out.”

“What?” Her eyes narrowed. “No, of course, I didn’t—”

“There’s no ‘of course.’ ” Couldn’t she see that? “Maybe someone else would have left. Maybe someone else wouldn’t have ever been in the room. You stayed. So what if you were scared? Or sick? You didn’t back down.”

“I wanted to.” A tear slid down her cheek only to be roughly swiped away by her trembling fingers. “Maybe next time I will.”

“And maybe you won’t.”

“Maybe.” She gave a hesitant nod. “Luke, don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Tears were in her eyes.

Appearances.

She was trying to keep up hers. And right then, she did remind him of Monica because they were both survivors.

Sam fumbled as she turned up the volume. “W-we’d better listen…”

“You were there when Mike Randall was arrested, weren’t you?” Monica’s smooth voice flowed into the room.

“Yeah, but so were at least three other cops!”

“A young girl died in the fire he set, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Did you think it was fair that her mother had to bury her only daughter, while Mike Randall didn’t even spend one single day in a prison cell?”

Silence.

“Detective Malone?” She pressed with that light southern drawl. “Did you think it was fair—”

“Fuck, no! But that dick in the DA’s office made a deal, and I had to be the one to tell Candace that the little prick who killed her girl was gettin’ therapy while Tonya Kelly was getting a hole in the f*cking ground.”

“What kind of punishment did you think Mike Randall should have gotten?”

“How do I know?” He shook his head. “I’m not the damn judge.”

“And what if you were?” Her voice dropped. “What if you had the power to decide Randall’s fate? What would you have done?”

“Locked him in a damn cage!”

“For how long? When he got out…” She shrugged. “He just would have started the fires again. It was a compulsion for him.” Monica paused and stared at the detective. “So how do you stop someone like that?”

“Only a bullet can stop some of the killers out there. Otherwise, they just keep right on hurting people.”