Burn You Twice - Mary Burton Page 0,90

want to come.”

No may I or please. “I leave in fifteen minutes. First stop is Ann’s so I can drop Kyle off.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“You ride with me. Hate to lose you in the dark up in the mountains.”

He reached around her for his travel mug. She smelled like the lilac shampoo left behind by Christie, a gal he had dated when he lived in the apartment. The scent had always suited Christie but smelled too fussy on Joan. Something spicy would have befitted her.

Gideon grabbed the travel mug, and as he reached for the pot, she did not shift out of his way, and his arm brushed against hers. Under the soft knit sleeve was sculpted muscle. He was not sure if she was just lost in thought or wanted him to touch her. That was the way it was with Joan. She always had him in a pretzel of emotion.

As if she had made her point, she pushed away from the counter and crossed to the refrigerator. She hefted the gallon-size jug and jostled the remaining contents around. “Does Kyle take milk with his cereal?”

“Yes.”

She replaced the milk without taking any.

“Go ahead and drink it. I can make him toast.”

“No, I’ll save what remains for him. It doesn’t feel right disrupting his routine. It’s his world. Not mine.”

No truer words. She was a visitor in his world, and he would be smart to remember it.

As Gideon drove, Joan watched as the sun rose above the eastern horizon and remembered her first winter in Missoula. It had been miserable. She had always thought Philly winters were brutal, but out here, the weatherman measured snow in feet rather than inches, and extreme wind drove temps well below zero. She had never really gotten warm that first winter, and by late January, she had been compiling transfer applications to colleges in Florida, Texas, and Arizona.

But a lack of funds to pay for her transfer applications had led to the diner job. The work was hard, but she liked Old Man Tucker. By spring break, she had her application money and had sent off her forms. In late May, she was accepted to both the University of Arizona and the University of Central Florida, but by then, the weather had warmed, bringing with it blooming flowers. Montana had seduced her into staying for another year. The cycle replayed during her sophomore year and her junior year. And then she had met Gideon, and the winters no longer felt the least bit cold.

Gideon downshifted and slowed to make the turn on a dirt road she would have missed if she were driving. “How did you find this place?”

“This county is my beat. You know all the back alleys and side streets in your jurisdiction.”

“Point taken.”

He wound up the washed-out road, and when he rounded the final corner, she saw the log structure. The walls were intact, but a portion of the roof had collapsed, allowing tendrils of smoke to hiss out. There was a fire truck on scene, with two firefighters pumping water into what had been the front door of the cabin.

“The old logs are harder to burn than most realize,” he said. “The inside can be devastated with an exterior still standing.”

Out of the car, Joan accepted a pair of protective gloves from Gideon. She worked her fingers inside and slipped on the mask.

“Rick,” Gideon said. “This is Joan Mason. Joan, this is Sheriff Rick Sexton.”

“Pleasure,” she said.

Rick was in his early thirties, tall, lean, and sporting thick blond hair. His gaze was wary, as if he was wondering what the hell she was doing there.

“What can you tell me?” Gideon asked.

“Fire was set in the living room. Appears to have been a small plastic tub of gasoline that was ignited. The flames caught the curtains and rug on fire. However, the furniture is ancient and stuffed with horsehair. It’s not as flammable as the modern stuff we buy.”

Joan looked toward the blue tarp that covered the shape of a human form. “Who’s that?”

Rick looked at Joan. “Who are you, Joan Mason?”

“She’s a homicide detective from Philadelphia,” Gideon said. “She’s worked several arson cases back east and is assisting.”

Rick did not look like the answer satisfied him. “The purse and ID we found in the vehicle matches Jessica Halpern; however, the body was badly burned. Whoever torched the place doused her body with gasoline first. She’s not recognizable, so the medical examiner will have to confirm the identification with dental records.”

“Any idea