Page 58 of Playing With Fire

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Ricky was battling his own demons.

He had arrived home to find his mother removing his warmed-up dinner from the microwave. The table was set for one, a reminder that he had not only missed dinner but forgotten to call his mom.

Ricky was suddenly seventeen again. Seventeen and restless. The future stretching out before him, his parents quietly hoping that he might settle down in Temple Mountain after college but knowing that his heart was set on leaving.

He thanked his mom, kissed her cheek, ate the meatloaf. Told her that he’d had a great day, and that the sessions on fire safety were a winner and that, sure, he could fit in a slice of pie.

“Uh huh.” His mom had done a lot of nodding, washing up the last dishes as he talked. Like she knew what her son was up to without even asking.

It was only when Ricky made his way down the hall to his room, making a note to fix that dripping faucet in the bathroom sink and maybe get someone in to replace that cracked tile, that he let his mind roam.

His bed creaked as he sat down to take off his shoes. The brief excitement of tackling a real mystery, of imagining a proper villain as the arsonist instead of a couple of wayward boys, faded.

Jodi.

She was so fired up about proving that Josh and Judah were innocent, but the odds were stacked against the boys.

Jodi was going to be disappointed.

And not only about the twins. If she hadn’t already found out about Chrissie’s death, then a smart newshound like Jodi would do her due diligence on the handsome firefighter who had kissed her not once but several times.

Ricky stared at the familiar ceiling, at the creeping world map and a patch of dampness in the corner.

Sure, Jodi would get that Ricky didn’t want to talk about Chrissie. But would Jodi be so understanding about the biggest secret of all?

His phone burred softly. He reached over, praying that the firebug hadn’t decided to do a midnight run.

A text. Laborious lines typed by a man who wanted to get it right. No shorthand words and no emojis.

Hi Ricky. Sure I remember you, from that time we dropped into the Big Apple to visit and of course from high school. Molly and I appreciate you getting in touch. It’s been a hard few years. We will talk to you about our Chrissie. I can’t see how the pain could get any worse than it already is. Can you come out to the retirement village after two on Thursday? Regards, Tom Caitens.

Chapter Nine

Jodi was literally up with the birds the next morning. Two Northern Cardinals, the male strutting his stuff in his bright red feathers and black mask alongside his more soberly colored mate, were making short work of the remaining sunflower seeds in the bird feeder.

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