think we can hold off just a bit on a McBride family dinner. After all, tomorrow night you’re supposed to be coming to my house for dinner.”
His voice deepened. “Looking forward to it, Harper.”
The change in his voice now sent a shiver through her at the thought that they could pick up where they left off the other evening. Clearing her throat, she asked, “I have to go to the grocery store tomorrow, so is there anything you don’t like?”
“You fix it, I’ll eat it.”
She started to protest, but he assured, “Honey, growing up in a big family, Mom was a good cook and didn’t have time to fix eight individual meals. She cooked food and we were expected to eat what she cooked. Then I was in the military, and believe me, you ate what was put in front of you. Honestly, sweetheart, I’m thrilled that you want to cook dinner for me, and I’ll enjoy anything you fix.”
Her smile widened in anticipation of the evening to come, and as they said goodbye, she slid down in the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Smokey lifted his head once more to stare at her, blink again, then lay his head back down. Harper smiled, the idea that tomorrow night Sean would be back in her apartment, and maybe, just maybe, in her bed. After all, a girl can hope.
19
Harper continually thought of her upcoming date with Sean. Glad my day isn’t busy. Instead of work, she pondered her menu. Creamy garlic chicken was her first idea, then dismissed that choice, knowing she did not want to have garlic breath with what she hoped would end up being a night filled with kisses. Kisses leading to sex. Sex leading to more sex. Definitely no garlic.
Stuck on thoughts of sex with Sean, she continued her list, only now not just groceries. Change sheets. Pull out sexy lingerie. When was the last time I wore sexy lingerie? She still had the condom Sandy put in her purse for her last date with Sean but hoped he would bring more.
“Harper?”
Her attention jerked up as Martin popped his head out of his office. “I need to see you, please.”
She immediately tucked her list into her purse and walked to his office. “Yes?”
“There was a fire last night with one of our clients. The wife called from the hospital. It was hard to understand what all happened, but I need you to go to their home now.”
Thoughts of her date flew out of her mind as she imagined a fire that would have sent someone to the hospital. Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she let it out slowly and then nodded.
“I’m sending the fire report to you now, and as soon as Peter gets back from lunch, I’m sending him out there as well. I’d like to go ahead and have your assessment.”
She turned and went back to her desk, grabbing her purse and phone before moving to the supply closet and retrieving her evidence kit. Checking to make sure she had everything she needed, she rushed down to her car.
The home was in a suburb outside the inner city, but it only took about twenty minutes to get there. Driving down the residential street, she noted well-tended but modest homes on either side. As she looked down the road, it was easy to see her destination without the need for GPS.
Even if it had not been for the yellow caution tape that was wrapped around several of the trees in the front yard, the blackened, hollowed-out hulk of a former house was easy to spy. Her stomach clenched thinking of the fire consuming the home and the fear of the family that had been inside. Her boss had not mentioned a fatality, but he had mentioned the hospital. As she parked, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment, sending up a prayer for the family.
With her evidence kit slung over her shoulder, she walked up the driveway, her mind settling into observation and evidence collection mode. She glanced at her phone, reading the preliminary fire report that Martin had sent her, indicating the fire originated from a space heater in the living room.
She walked around the outside of the home first, noting the destruction was mostly in the front of the house, decreasing as she made her way toward the back. After circling the house, she stepped through the front door, her boots crunching over the charred