Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(102)

Derek’s brows pulled together, and after a second, he nodded. Yeah, he was beginning to figure out the difference between internal and external beauty.

Taking advantage of the kid’s distraction, Holt grabbed the last piece of garlic bread. Time to discuss something else. He and the ambulance crew hadn’t had any interesting cases, just the usual heart attacks, strokes, older people who fell. He asked the engine crew, “You guys get anything interesting on your runs?”

“The funniest was the kitchen fire.” Tank grinned slowly. “Newlyweds. She was cooking, but he wanted nookie and dragged her into the bedroom to have his evil way with her.”

“Let me guess,” Arlo said. “Grease fire?”

“You win the prize, probie.” Oz laughed. “She was heating oil to fry potatoes. Neither of them turned off the stove.”

Shoshana rolled her eyes. “As if a guy ever thinks about anything other than ‘I’m gonna get some’.”

“That’s fucking cynical.” Clancy tossed a carrot stick at her that she caught neatly. “True, but cynical.”

“The not-so-funny call-out was for another arson near the middle school,” Tank said. “The perp took the paper recyclables bin from the curb, dumped everything against a garage door, and poured on gasoline.”

Holt’s gut twisted, and he pushed his plate away. Children and fire. God fucking help him. “How close to the school?” Carson’s school.

“A block down. Only the outside of the garage door was charred.” Tank grinned. “The owner was damn relieved his vintage Mustang didn’t get scorched.”

“But his son was pretty hacked that his basketball hoop got crisped. The kid’s on the basketball team.” Oz chuckled.

“The Spartans?” Shoshana asked, naming the University of Tampa team.

“Nope. The boy’s in middle school.” Tank shook his head. “Sounded like his life was ruined if he couldn’t practice.”

“Tank, at that age, that’s what they think. And, hey, if he’s that passionate about the sport, he might well end up on the Spartans.” Clancy smiled. One of his daughters had just turned thirteen.

“You figure the firebug is the same one who started the classroom and dumpster fires?” Arlo asked.

“I’m guessing yes,” Oz said.

Holt frowned. “The middle school fires might’ve started out as pranks, but these last two are looking more like vindictive acts.”

“Vindictive?” Shoshana dumped the last of the salad onto her plate.

“Yeah. I was wondering if our firebug might be a kid, so I talked to Cullen O’Keefe.” The Shadowlands Dom was an experienced arson investigator and well known in the stations. “It seems classroom fires are usually about revenge. Tank, when you talked with the teacher of that room, what’d you think?”

“You’re following my thoughts, man,” Tank said. “The teacher’s purely an asshole. I could almost understand someone wanting to light his shit up.”

“But burning the outside of a garage?” Derek protested.

Holt’s gut tightened. “The arsonist’s willing to bust a window and toss in a Molotov cocktail…but he didn’t. He deliberately started a fire outside a house.”

Clancy’s eyes widened. “If the arsonist is a kid, maybe the target was the basketball hoop. At that age, jocks can be obnoxious.”

“At any age,” Shoshana muttered and got grins from the guys.

Holt said, “I think our fire bug is escalating. Dumpsters to empty classroom…then a garage attached to an occupied house.”

“I agree.” Tank scowled. “Trouble is, we might have more than one offender.”

“Yeah?” Arlo looked up from his plate. “How’d you figure that?”

Tank got a soda from the fridge. “When Clancy and I asked questions around the neighborhood, we talked with a guy who’d been jogging the track when the classroom was burned. He saw some boys hide their bikes in the bushes…and wondered why they didn’t use the bike racks at the school.”

“Interesting,” Shoshana said. “Did he see them well enough to ID them?”

“Nope. He wasn’t paying that much attention.” Clancy rubbed his chin. “The bikes were normal. The kids wore baseball caps. Most wore daypacks. A black one. A red one. One pack had shiny lettering—fancy-like—on the back. Probably reflective stuff.”

Holt rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think. He’d seen reflective lettering on a backpack recently. Somewhere. Wedge or Duke, maybe?

No, not them. His hand froze. Carson. Black material. Customized lettering—but not his name. Odd script.

Oh shit.





Chapter Twenty-Four





In her kitchen, Josie tried to settle. Holt was on his way over to talk with her—and Carson—he said.

When she’d heard his voice on the phone, her heart had leaped. She missed him last night when he’d been putting in his twenty-four hours at the fire station. She hoped he’d come over and spend the evening tonight.

On the phone, he’d sounded…off. Not happy. She’d almost asked him if Carson had pitched a ball through a window or said something rude. But she hadn’t questioned him. If Carson had been rude, well… If she and Holt were going to be together—and, oh God, she wanted that—her two males needed to resolve their problems without her leaping in to help.