Cold Dawn Part 30

The fire at Jo Harper's cabins on the lake-Robert Feehan's death, Dominique Belair's near death-bothered everyone.

The cabin Grit had stayed in had burned, but he wasn't nostalgic. He figured the accursed woodstove had probably made it through just fine.

Devin and Toby Shay arrived at Sean's house, and Grit was of a mind to leave them and Beth there while he and Sean drove out to the Cameron & Martini building that had burned a year ago.

Beth had other ideas. Testy and silent, she climbed, uninvited, into the back of Sean's car and put on her seat belt.

Sean glanced at Grit, as if seeking his wisdom on what to do. Grit shrugged. "How far is this place?"

"Twenty minutes, longer if traffic's bad."

As far as Grit could see, traffic was always bad. He figured he could handle thirty minutes with Beth biting her nails in back. Let Sean be the one to kick her out. "Drive on."

Sean gritted his teeth and steered his expensive sedan out of the driveway.

Grit turned to Beth in the backseat. "Have you talked to Trooper Thorne?" She just stared out her window. He tried again. "Your brother? Your sister? Rose? Dominique?"

"I don't want to talk."

That could work, Grit decided, and turned back around. Seventeen minutes later, they pulled into a small parking area by a three-story Art Deco building that Cameron & Martini had saved from the wrecking ball, refurbished and still owned.

There'd been a fire during renovations. Nick Martini's quick actions had almost certainly saved the building.

Sean led Grit and Beth into a cool, elegant lobby, no indication that there'd been a fire or that the place had ever needed renovating. Sean said, "The fire was last January, months before Jasper Vanderhorn was killed."

"Your sister was just getting involved with Cutshaw then," Grit said.

Beth stiffened visibly, but Sean was calm. "I don't see how the two could be connected."

"Me, either." Grit looked up at the Art Deco ceiling. "Vanderhorn investigated this fire?"

Sean shook his head. "Not officially. He looked into it on his own after the fact."

"He was trying to connect this fire to his serial arsonist?"

"I suspect so, yes," Sean said, diplomatically.

Grit noted the list of businesses with offices in the building but none struck him as being related to Hollywood and their missing actor. Advertising, digital media, financial planning. He turned back to Sean. "How'd the fire start?"

"Electrical short," Sean said. "The work crews missed it."

"No arrests?"

"No. There's no proof it was arson."

"But you think it was," Grit said.

Sean shrugged without answering.

Beth wandered over to the elevator but was obviously listening in.

Grit continued. "The police will be looking into whether Robert Feehan was or could have been in Los Angeles then. Cutshaw, too. Maybe they worked together and just had a falling-out."

Sean considered Grit's comment. "Why target Nick and me? The Whittakers were already in Black Falls, but my father wasn't suspicious of Lowell yet. No one was."

Something Drew Cameron's four offspring now had to live with, Grit thought. He said matter-of-factly, "Lowell didn't like you. You're everything he isn't. His crazy b.i.t.c.h wife threw you in his face. Why not target you and your smoke jumping buddy?"

"Nick was only here by accident. I wasn't here at all. The fire couldn't have been meant to kill us." Sean looked around the lobby, as if imagining the flames a year ago. "Most arsonists work alone."

"Okay," Grit said. "So it's Feehan, and Cutshaw wasn't involved. Feehan finds out a Cameron is a rich Californian and locates one of your enemies or one of Martini's enemies to pay to mess things up for you. Was construction delayed?"

"For a few weeks."

"Maybe that was enough. Maybe this fire was about profit. How'd Martini find out about it?"

"Nick was out that night and got a call from the security guard that there was a fire. He arrived before the fire crews."

"Could he be the arsonist himself?"

Sean cast Grit a cool look. "No."

"Is that friends.h.i.+p or your head talking?"

"Both."

Beth stalked over to them. Her turquoise eyes showed the strain she was feeling, but she still glared at Grit. "What happened to your navy business?"

"Tomorrow," he said.

They headed back out, the air warm, the light now a filtered brownish color. This time Grit took the backseat. Beth got in front without a word.

Sean was pensive as they drove to his house.

"I have to go home," Beth said, watching Beverly Hills slide past her.

Sean nodded. "I've been thinking the same thing. We'll all go."

Once at Sean's, he and Beth went inside to make plans. Grit stayed out in the driveway and took a call from Charlie Neal.

"Anything new?" Charlie asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Never mind. I'd have heard. I've been looking into Portia Martinez-all on the internet, so don't worry. She grew up in Fresno. Her parents are school-teachers. Totally ordinary and normal. She wanted to work in Holly wood from the age of four."

"The police must know this, Charlie."

"They must, but here's what I'm thinking. What if Portia somehow got wind of this firebug and his plot to kill my sister?"

"Jasper Vanderhorn's the only one who had this theory about a serial arsonist. How would she have found out? And your sister's fire was months ago, and it was an accident. If Ms. Martinez knew anything about it, she'd have reported what she knew to the police or the Secret Service, don't you think?"

"She might have only just found out, and there could be a new plot. It's unfinished business. Killing Marissa, I mean."

Grit sighed. He was getting used to Charlie's labyrinthine way of thinking. "You think Jasper Vanderhorn was onto the plot and that's why he was killed?"

"Maybe Portia was his confidential informant."

"There any evidence of that?"

"How would I know? I'm in high school in northern Virginia."

"You're maddening."

"I am?"

"Yeah. You're a big pain in the a.s.s, Charlie."

"Good." He sounded relieved. "How's the leg?"

"Which one? All's well." Grit watched a car edge past the house on the quiet street. "Go back to cla.s.s."

"Jo and Elijah are upset about the fire this morning-Agent Harper and Sergeant Cameron, I mean."

Grit had wondered if Charlie would get to that part. "You've talked to them?"

"I saw Jo and called Elijah. They didn't want to talk to me."

"You weren't surprised, were you?"

"No, but it's okay. They told me to b.u.t.t out, which I expected, but I got my point across. What do you think the fire on Jo's property means? Is the firebug mad at her for foiling his attack on Marissa last fall?"

"Evidence, Charlie. Speculation just gets you tangled up."

"That's what Elijah said."

"I'm sure he did."

"Two fires, Grit-Petty Officer Taylor," Charlie said. "That's evidence."

Beth was in the shade by the front door when Grit disconnected. He'd seen her come out but hadn't done anything about it. She shook her head at him. "Jo would skewer you."

"For what?"

"For talking to Charlie Neal. That little devil caused Jo big problems and almost got her fired, and now he's going to get you arrested."

"Jo might not have hooked up with Elijah again if Charlie hadn't shot her in the b.u.t.t with those Airsoft pellets."

"They'd have found a way back to each other."

Grit noticed a flicker of what he interpreted as sadness and regret in Beth's eyes. "You're a romantic."

"Not me." She almost smiled as she stepped out of the shade. "I'm a hardheaded, repressed New Englander."

"That doesn't mean you're not a romantic. It'll be a while before you get over Trooper Thorne, won't it?"

"I'm not talking about my love life with you, Grit. What about yours?"

"Too busy learning to walk again."

"It's been almost a year."

"You'd expect more of me?"

"A strapping Navy SEAL? It was just your lower leg you lost."

Her bluntness was refres.h.i.+ng. "Man, you're tough."

She didn't seem at all embarra.s.sed or chagrined. "Tell me about Charlie."

After Grit went back inside, Beth stifled her guilt at having been surly with him and dialed Scott's cell number. He'd left her a message to call him. She had no idea what to expect. She only knew that she wanted to talk to him in private, not where Hannah, Sean or Grit could scrutinize her for her reaction.

She stood in the warm sun and steadied herself when she heard Scott pick up. "It's me," she said.

"Hey, Beth." He sounded tense but not angry, and not, she thought, unpleased to hear her voice. "You okay?"

"I am, yes. You?"

"Just doing my job."

"You called me-"

"I called to find out how you are. I meant that's how I am-I'm just doing my job." He sighed. "Don't complicate everything."

Beth smiled in spite of her tension. That was Scott: literal, no-nonsense, a man of clarity and purpose. "I talked to Rose," she said. "Dominique's been concealing an ex-husband and a trust fund. How long have you known?"

"Awhile."

But he couldn't and wouldn't tell her. She appreciated that about him. He wouldn't torture himself. He'd just put the information under "secret work stuff" in his mind and not go there when they were together. "Jo knows?"

"Ask her."

Beth took that as a yes. "So how the h.e.l.l rich is Dom?"

"She's from a Midwest manufacturing family. Old money."

"And here she is, living in a little fixer-upper in a small Vermont town and baking scones and grilling salmon for a living."

"She just does her own thing, which you, she and Hannah all share."

"Scott-"

"When are you coming back?"