Burn You Twice - Mary Burton Page 0,94
face, covered with a black ski mask. The eyes glistened, but he could not identify the man.
Elijah’s ribs jabbed with pain, but he forced himself to stand so he could face his enemy. “Don’t leave. We are just getting started.”
The man took a step back. “Get the fuck out of town.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” This was his home, and he was prepared to kill anyone to prove it.
Confessions of an Arsonist
Burning her pictures gives me some satisfaction.
Too bad it’s not her flesh.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Missoula, Montana
Thursday, September 10, 2020
2:00 p.m.
Joan knew Gideon was annoyed with her as they left the interview room. But considering she’d sensed downright hostility from him just a few days ago, she saw this as progress. Love was not in the cards for them again, but a friendship would definitely be welcome.
“What happened to ‘I’m not going to talk’?” he said.
“I didn’t talk that much. In fact, I was damn near silent.”
Before he could unload his thoughts, his phone rang.
“Detective Bailey.”
His annoyed expression darkened. “We’ll be right there.”
He hung up. “You’re coming with me.”
“Where?”
“Missoula Montana Hospital. Elijah was admitted a half hour ago. He was assaulted.” She knew Gideon did not trust or like Elijah, but he sure as hell would not sit by and have a vigilante assault him.
Joan’s expression tightened with worry. “Is he going to be okay?”
“He’ll survive. He has two broken ribs and a few contusions.”
“Does he know his attacker?” Joan asked.
“Apparently not.”
“I want to talk to him,” she said.
“You’re in luck. He’s asking for you. Guy’s got a thing for you.”
“It’s not romantic. He sees us as kindred spirits.”
“I disagree. He’s using you.”
Unwilling to argue now, she followed him toward the station’s exit and was already zipping up her jacket as she stepped outside. She and Montana were getting used to each other.
He drove them across town and parked in the spot reserved for law enforcement. Inside, he presented his ID and was sent to a room on the second floor.
“Let me do the talking,” she said as she hurried to keep up with his long strides. “I’m the one he trusts.”
Gideon paused and looked at her. “Does he?”
She shoved out a breath. “Maybe not, but I might be the one person he tolerates.”
“I’ll let you kick it off. Then we’ll see.”
“No. Let me go in alone.”
“Why?”
“Stand outside the door if you’re so worried. And if you discover a burning question—”
“Pun intended?”
“Text me.” Joan continued down the hallway to Elijah’s room. She knocked on the door and slowly opened it.
The room’s lights had been dimmed and the shades closed. Elijah lay in his bed, hands at his sides with eyes closed. She moved toward the bed, noting there were no bruises on his face.
“Elijah?” she whispered.
“Joan,” he said without opening his eyes. “I heard you coming down the hallway. You have a very distinctive gait, and you still smell faintly like smoke.”
She pulled up a chair and sat. “I’ve been told it sounds like a stampede when I walk. Rushed and angry.”
“That about sums it up.” He opened his eyes and turned toward her.
“You don’t look too bad.”
“My ribs would say otherwise. It hurts to breathe.”
“Do you know who attacked you?” she asked.
“No. He wore a ski mask.”
“You’re certain it was a man?”
“Very. He spoke to me. Something about me getting out of town. The kind of bad dialogue you find in an old western.”
“Was high noon referenced?” she quipped.
A slight smile tweaked his lips. “Almost.”
“You aren’t leaving, are you?”
“You know me too well.”
“Why stay?” She thought of Ann’s confession about Nate and wondered for the first time if Elijah had pieced together the truth.
“It’s home.”
“You’re smart. You can go anywhere.”
“My alleged past always follows. At least if I’m here, there’s no time wasted with awkward explanations. We all know where we stand.”
She reached to straighten his pillow. “Can I help? Is there anything else I can do? Get a nurse maybe.”
“No. But thank you.”
“Well, now that I’m here, I do want to talk to you about the fire out at Ann’s place.”
He turned his head toward her. All traces of humor had vanished. “I assume still no suspects.”
“None.”
“Ann and the boy?”
“She’s still shaken.”
“And the boy? How is he doing?”
“He’s fine.”
“He’s not upset by it?”
“No.”
That triggered interest. “How did he react to the fire?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was he fascinated by it?”
“Yes. That would be a way of describing his reaction.”
“Was it speaking to him?” Elijah asked.
Instead of answering, she asked, “If the fire were speaking to him, what would it say?”
Elijah rolled his