Page 8 of Burning Truth

Severn glanced at her, his face impassible. “No. I live a few blocks from there and heard the explosion. I recognized the sound and had to check it out.”

“You recognized the sound?” she asked incredulously.

“I was in EOD in the Navy. We dismantled IEDs all day, every day.”

Oh, wow... that answered a lot of her pressing questions. Without even thinking, her gaze drifted down over his arms and hands.

“Yes, that’s where I got my scars.”

Addie cringed. “I’m sorry. You must get that question a lot.”

“I do. I’m used to it.”

He shifted in the chair, though, and she wondered if he actually was used to it. It had to be hell going out in public, and she knew for a fact how rude people could be.

Like she’d just been.

In all honesty, though, he made an impression on her before she realized he had scars. Not that she was going to tell him that.

“So, how is this going to work?” she asked, crossing her legs at the knees. “I didn’t get a lot of details from Detective Johnson.”

“We didn’t really hammer out a lot of details,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. His voice was low and sonorous, and she liked listening to him. “For now, I’ll tag along with you and watch for anything suspicious. I, personally, have a feeling the firebug is going to do something again soon. Tell me about the bone.”

Addie wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t even notice it at first. I park toward the side of the station, and I headed out after work the other night. I had my head down and didn’t notice until I almost stepped on the bone. It was right beside my driver’s side door. I almost kicked it aside before I looked at it. I called my manager immediately. He was still in the station, and he called the police. It is a human tibia. They confirmed that, and the charring hints that it may have come from one of his fires.”

“What was on your social media that night? Did the stalker contact you?”

Addie pulled her phone out and swiped through her screens, stopping on the file of weird occurrences she’d noted. Her hand tightened on the phone, and she worried about handing it over. Then, taking a huge chance, she passed the phone to Severn.

He swiped through the file for a good while, reading everything she’d put in there.

She shifted uncomfortably, aware that she’d just handed him a file of everything that had bothered her, personally. Maybe it was connected or maybe it was just her being overly sensitive in a new job she never had aspirations for. “I don’t know that everything in there can be attributed to him, but they were just a little odd.”

Severn lifted his head and looked her in the eye, his gaze piercing and hard. It was dim in the van, only lit by the glow of the setting sun, but she could feel his intensity. “I will tell you what I always tell our clients. Listen to your gut. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t.”

Hm. Well, it was kind of him to say, anyway. “He always calls me Addison. On air I’m Addie, and I sign everything Addie.”

“Have you ever announced your name?”

She nodded. “When I introduced myself to the viewership. Just the one time. But he’s been calling me that ever since.”

“These notes go back to the beginning?”

She shook her head. “Not all the way back. Just to the first one that felt off. He may have commented before, and I just didn’t notice it because he didn’t tweak my radar.”

Needing something to do while he dug into her personal business, she brought out a compact. She’d done her makeup before she got to the station, but it was best to check for flaws before she got to the scene. She knew from experience that it would be a chaotic crush at the crash. She rubbed a finger under her eyes and erased a line on her lid.

Closing the compact, she took a breath, hoping that no one was seriously injured. She always hoped that no one was injured, though it rarely happened that way. Just last night they’d responded to a fatal motorcycle accident, and they’d arrived before the police, even. It hadn’t been good. In those instances,she relied on Jake’s experience. He’d been in the Army years ago, and had been a cameraman for more than twenty years. Before he’d even dragged the camera out, he’d run to check on the rider. Jake rode a bike in his off time, and Addie knew the scene had hit him hard, too. He’d shaken his gray head at her and spoken softly to the cop that arrived on scene seconds later.

The segment had been somber, and they’d only documented the damage to the bike. Ron had yelled at them for not getting some part of the body or blood on the road.

Addie wondered how long she’d be able to do this job before it ate away at her humanity.

“Addie,” Severn said firmly, and she jerked.

“Sorry. Woolgathering.”

He was holding the phone out to her. “I copied the file to my phone. Later tonight, I’ll start going through your social media from when you first started. I also added my number to your contacts.”

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