“We’ve got the building surrounded, Chief.”
“Roger,” Keith Paruso replied to his team leader over the wireless audio system. The fires were never difficult to put out, as long as they caught them early. In this case they’d narrowed the arsonist’s next target down to three abandoned farmhouses and, sure enough, he’d struck the first one on their list. His team had been here in less than three minutes, pre-positioned on the main highway.
It was almost too easy.
If it was up to Keith, the son of a bitch wasn’t going to get away this time. As he scanned the perimeter of the scene, his spine stiffened when he spotted a hooded figure running along the far edge of the farm clearing. “I’ve got a suspect and I’m going after him.” As he spoke he shucked off his gear and then ran straight for his target, grateful he hadn’t donned his firefighting boots. He’d hoped he’d get a shot at capturing the criminal.
Was it his job to catch and apprehend an arsonist? No. That was for SVPD and other law enforcement. Keith’s job was to run his fire department and make sure they put the fires out and kept Silver Valley citizens safe.
But this criminal was different; the entire case was different. He was certain, as was his sister’s boyfriend, Rio, that this fire starter was connected to the True Believer Cult. A cult that had been led by Leonard Wise, who’d convinced vulnerable single mothers that he was their savior. That their daughters would be the mothers of the “new community” he envisioned. The cult had been disbanded by arrests and incarcerations two decades ago, after a twelve-year-old girl reached out for help. That girl had grown into Zora Krasny, a woman relocated and raised in Silver Valley under the witness relocation program. Unfortunately, prison terms ended and the perpetrators had regrouped in Silver Valley over the past eighteen months, hundreds of miles from upstate New York, where they’d caused trouble all those years ago. Now the True Believers, still with Leonard Wise at the helm, were calling themselves the New Thought community. Suspicious activity that turned criminal and life-threatening had occurred in the usually quiet town of twenty thousand. As soon as Rio and SVPD could get the needed evidence, they’d take Leonard Wise and his cult down for good. Trail Hikers was involved because of the potential for disaster; the local law-enforcement agencies, or LEA, could handle only so much.
Keith adjusted his stride to leap over a Civil War–era fence, stomping down on thistles and brambles as he landed. The fence was a keen reminder of the violence central Pennsylvania had endured almost two centuries ago. It was ironic that the peace that emanated from the surrounding Appalachian Mountains was being disturbed again, but this time by a modern-day cult.
The toe of his running shoe caught on a tree root and he pitched forward but regained his balance quickly. When he did, he noticed a second figure on the run; a woman with her weapon drawn and in the fist of her pumping arm as she chased after the suspect. She wore a Kevlar vest. What the hell?
Was it an SVPD officer? He personally knew only one female SVPD cop, Nika Pasczenko. He didn’t know the others. Nika was taller, leaner than the definitely feminine figure streaking across the field. This woman was a stranger to him.
He ran across her path toward the suspect, figuring either he’d catch up to her or they’d corner the arsonist.
But the bastard disappeared from the horizon, only to be seen again on a dirt bike that roared as he made his escape, holding on to an accomplice who drove the vehicle.
He kept running, until he was almost even with the woman who stood stock-still, her arms still raised as if she’d get off a shot at the now long-gone bike.
He slowed to a walk and approached her from behind, and was treated to the most colorful string of epithets he’d experienced since becoming a firefighter. She was speaking to someone, probably mic’d for the stakeout he knew Rio had set up.
“Yeah, the SOB’s gone. What do you mean there aren’t any SVPD units to cut him off? Why the hell did I just spend the last night using my rudimentary camping skills if you didn’t have backup?”
His foot snapped a twig and she whirled on him, her pistol in his face.
“Whoa, there. Hey, I’m on your side. I want to catch the bad guy, too.” He held up his hands and offered a grin, still marveling at her effusive dirty language. Marvel turned to awe as huge doe eyes rounded and, after looking him over, she spoke into the small mic he saw pinned to her bulletproof vest.
“I’ve got someone here with me. What is your name?” Eyes on him again.
“Keith Paruso, Silver Valley Fire Department. Chief.”
Whoever spoke to her in her ear confirmed his identity because she lowered her weapon and holstered it, keeping her dark gaze steady on him.
“Roger. I’ll meet back up with you in a bit.” She yanked her earpiece out, her gaze steady and sparking the wrath of the devil as she leveled it on him. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you, Chief.”
He ignored her insincere apology. “May I ask who you are and what the hell you’re doing at my fire scene?”
* * *
Dang, dang, dang, dang.
It wasn’t like she didn’t have an alibi, a practiced reason for being here. But as a Trail Hiker it would have been better if she hadn’t been tagged by the chief of SVFD, for God’s sake.
“I’m Abi. Working under contract to SVPD to support the apprehension of this arsonist.”
“Uh-huh.”
The studly fire chief didn’t buy it. She could tell from the way his hands, raised to show her his harmlessness, had lowered and were fisted on his hips. His brows, even and straight across his eyes. Brilliant, cornflower-blue eyes not unlike the sky above them appeared anything but soft and summery. More like a blast of arctic wind over glacial ice.
Sighing, she pulled out her ID. “Here. Check it yourself.”
He reached for the card and their fingers touched. The immediate sexual awareness caught her off guard. Sure, Fire Chief Keith Paruso was an attractive male and obviously in outstanding shape, but she worked with fit—even hot—men on a daily basis. Not one had ever made her feel so instantly turned on, been so quick to remind her that she was a woman underneath all the body armor and cargo pants.
“It says you’re a free agent, Abigail.”
“I am. I told you, I’m a contractor. And it’s Abi.” No one called her Abigail. Except Dad, when she was a kid, and she’d left home almost fifteen years ago. And even he called her Abi these days.
“I didn’t realize SVPD employed contractors, especially ones as prepared as you are, Abigail.”
He was clearly who he said he was and, as she looked past him, she saw the fire trucks, the firefighters hosing down the house.
“I don’t know many fire chiefs who’d leave a fire to run after a suspect. Where I’m from, you leave that to law enforcement. Unless you have a problem with SVPD? Don’t you trust them?”
His eyes narrowed and she thought he was going to either throw her ID on the ground, spit at her or turn and leave. He looked pretty pissed off.
Instead he laughed. A lot. Not a snort or chuckle, but a warm, rich sound that seemed to roll over and around her, squeezing her tight, cutting off her breath. If he hadn’t already turned her on, this would have done it.
“I’ve got a job to do, Chief Paruso.” She held her hand out to retrieve her ID. He ignored it.
“The ‘job’ you have is a case I’ve been working intensely on, along with SVPD, for over three months, and it’s affected my job for over a year. A case that could have resulted in us catching the bad guy. Since your weapon was drawn and you were at least a quarter of a mile ahead of me, I’m thinking that you had a decent chance to catch the loser. Instead, we’re here exchanging pleasantries while the dirt bag’s free to light up his next