grins. “We’ve all been duped by lust at one time or another. You’re raw today, Rita, but for your own peace of mind, you need answers. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or even next month, but soon you’ll want to know the truth. Your curiosity will best you, my friend.”
She’s absolutely right. My desire for facts and details, and justice to be served, will prevail.
I’ll want to know more.
Just not today.
Probably not tomorrow either.
Maybe not even next month.
But soon, I’ll want the truth.
17
Jake
For a week, Rita avoids the building site, and every day I wait on her at the Bean in hopes she’ll show somewhere neutral so we can talk. It’s torture, and by Friday, I’ve decided I’m waiting on false hope. I’m ready to leave the Busy Bean, taking the last dregs of a second cup of coffee I shouldn’t have so late in the day when Rita enters. She does a double-take at me as I sit on the plush peach couch where my attraction to her started. Where she cussed me out for taking her spot, and lust filled my thoughts about taking her on this sofa. Now, my emotions are so much more than lust. Was I in love with her? I’d almost said as much to Nolan, but that might have been a rash declaration after such a short time. However, I’m old enough to recognize how I feel, and what I felt was honest and real.
I watch as Rita places her order, waits on her mug, and then crosses the distance to stand before the couch. She glances at the emptiness beside me.
“Is this seat taken?” The vulnerability in her voice is everything opposite what I know of her.
“Only by you,” I admit, giving her a weak smile that falls short when she doesn’t smile back. I clear my throat as Rita lowers for the velvety cushion but doesn’t relax into the couch. Watching her lift the mug for her lips—lips I’ve missed kissing—I stare as she sips and swallows the warm brew. I miss her tongue wrestling with mine. I miss her arms around me. I miss her body against me.
“Did you like my gift?” I ask, finding it difficult to know where to start.
“It was very interesting,” she states. “A lamp is . . . different.” Uncertain how to read her impression of the piece, I don’t press. Rita remains quiet.
“I didn’t do it,” I start, but when Rita’s eyes close, I realize I need to start at the beginning. “I was driving home that night from an investigation. There had been a series of unexplained fires in the area. Vacant warehouses. Three in total. I was completely baffled by them. There was no connection between the warehouses, only their vacancy. Normally, a string of fires has a link. A disgruntled employee, perhaps. Even faulty wiring could have been linked back to a similar manufacturer or a poor electrician, but it wasn’t that either. I prided myself on assessing situations easily and efficiently. I understand fire—its pathways and how it moves—but these blazes made no sense to me.”
Fire to me was like a dance. It thrived on oxygen and followed a pattern of movement. It was almost sensual how it could lick and lap along on an object before bursting to life. I’d been very good at my job, decoding fire’s motive and movement.
Rubbing my hands against my thighs, I glance around us. We’re rather secluded where we sit, and other than a woman at a table typing away at her laptop, the Bean is empty. Still, I keep my voice low as I continue.
“I was almost home. I’d been living with my brother again as my ex-wife and I were separated. Passing the school was on my way. I noticed the blaze immediately upon rounding the corner and pulled into the parking lot. My nephew and a group of his friends were present, just watching the building burn.”
I pause, swallowing around the lump in my throat as Rita closes her eyes again.
“When I confronted the boys, they took off, but I chased Rory.” I follow with his explanation about the fireworks and the boys smoking behind a maintenance shed. There’s no reason to keep the details from Rita. She deserves to know the truth, and I never believed my nephew was guilty.
“I decided to investigate, rounding the building, looking for open doors. It was stupid, actually. Everyone knows you don’t enter a burning building.” Licking my lips, I decide to skip the