Burn You Twice - Mary Burton Page 0,46
He may have looked like his mother, but he was quick to share like Gideon.
She took an orange cracker filled with peanut butter. “Thank you.”
Freckles were sprinkled across his nose. “You’re welcome.”
“Seriously, what are you doing here, Kyle? Shouldn’t you be out playing soccer or football?”
“It’s a holiday, remember? And I’m waiting on Dad. He went to the jail, and I have an appointment at the clinic.”
The kid’s schedule was none of her business. She bit into the cracker, found she liked the Day-Glo orange and artificial peanut butter. And before she could stop herself, she asked, “Nothing serious at the doctor, I hope.”
“I broke my arm last winter.” He said it with such authority, as if he was proud of it. “They want to x-ray it and make sure it’s growing right.” He held up his right arm and bent it in multiple directions. “It’s fine. Doctors are a waste of time.”
She liked the kid. “I broke my arm when I was twelve. My best friend, Vincent, dared me to ride my bike down ten concrete stairs at the library. Made it almost to the bottom, but the front wheel twisted, and I went flying. Broke my arm at the elbow.” Damn thing still hurt when it rained.
“You rode a bike down the library stairs?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it, but yeah, I did. I’m not a person to dare. How did you break your arm?”
“I was living with my mom in Denver. I was walking to the corner store to get her some ginger ale and was hit by a car.”
“Damn. That had to hurt.” Joan intentionally kept her tone calm, just like she did when she rolled up on a crime scene with a hysterical witness or traumatized victim.
“It didn’t hurt too bad at first. But it did later in the ambulance.” He again rotated his arm in a full circle. “But it’s fine now.”
“Impressive.” She thought about Gideon getting that kind of phone call. It was at least a thirteen-hour drive between Missoula and Denver. “I bet your dad drove all night after he heard.”
Kyle’s gaze widened with hints of surprise. “Yeah, how did you know?”
“I know your dad. He’s like that.” She was curious about Helen, the woman who had toyed with Gideon’s heart after Joan had split town ten years ago. But grilling the kid about his mother was a pettiness she would not indulge.
“You don’t sound like you’re from here,” Kyle said.
“You know I’m from Philadelphia.”
“Why are you looking at case files in this office?”
She closed the folder filled with graphic color images. “I went to college here. Before you were born.”
The boy, now looking curious about the file, tried to read the tab. “What was the case?” he asked.
The kid did not appear to be a fan of sugarcoating the truth, but he was still a kid. “There was a fire.”
“Did anyone die?”
“No.”
“So why do you care about it?”
“Because people shouldn’t go around burning down houses.”
“There was no arrest?” Kyle challenged.
It was her turn to smile. “You must know a lot about police procedures.”
“Some. Dad’s told me stories.”
“There was an arrest and conviction.”
“Then why do you care?”
“Good question.”
He nodded to her scarring. “What’s wrong with your hand?”
“Burn scar.” She tucked her hand under the table.
“From that fire?”
The boy was quick. “Yes.”
“There was a fire in town on Saturday,” he said.
“I know.”
“Are you working that case with Dad?”
“Yes. Kind of. Not exactly.”
“What’s that mean?” He offered her another cracker, but she declined.
“Your dad is letting me nose around.”
“He doesn’t need your help,” Kyle said.
“He doesn’t really need me at all.” The truth surprised her with a sting.
Quick, determined footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Gideon appeared in the doorway. “Kyle. Why didn’t you come by my office?”
“I didn’t want to sit there alone. I got a snack and came in here when I saw Joan. We had breakfast together yesterday at Aunt Ann’s house.”
Gideon lifted his gaze quickly to Joan, as if searching for a sign that she might harbor any resentment toward the boy in any way. Whatever he saw must have calmed him, because he shifted back to Kyle. “Ready to go to the doctor?”
“Yeah. But for the record, I don’t need a doctor,” Kyle said.
“Once you get your medical degree, I’ll stop bugging you about it,” Gideon said.
Kyle gathered up his backpack. “Good to see you, Joan. You going to be at Ann’s tonight?”
“I’ll be there.” She pointed her index finger at him. “Show your dad how flexible your arm is.”
Kyle rolled