Page 41 of Burning Hearts

I need to…

I should…

“Hey.”

She spun to find Tucker filling the doorway.

“Need me to call anyone for you?”

She took a deep breath and tried to think. “It might not even be him.” She pushed out a breath. “If I don’t get back before the crews do, can you tell Logan where I went?”

He nodded. “Got your phone?”

She patted the side pocket of her pack. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about anything else. Just get it done, and then you’ll have an answer.”

As far as a pep talk went, that was pretty bad. But maybe it was what she needed to focus. Simple, logical instruction. “Okay.”

Jamie walked with the deputy to his patrol car, answering his questions. Small talk. But she couldn’t have recounted what she said. It was all a daze. They drove for a while, and then she was walking into a short building with a brick exterior and a glass door with gold-etched letters, empty planters beside the door.

The interior smelled like a mix of stale chemicals.

“This is the coroner, Doctor Kameroff.”

The older man with tanned skin and gray hair held her hand softly. “Thank you for coming.”

Jamie managed to nod.

“This way. Please take your time.” He hung back from the hospital gurney, where a body lay covered with a blue sheet.

Jamie didn’t look at the wide metal sink in the corner. The drain in the middle of the tile floor. The wall of metal doors that she wouldn’t ever look at the same when she saw them on crime shows on TV.

She moved to one side of the bed and shifted the sheet. Doctor Kameroff took it and completed the task of pulling the cover back to reveal the face of the deceased man.

Jamie let out the breath she’d been holding and stepped back. “It’s not Tristan.”

Deputy Mills pulled out his phone.

“But I know who it is.”

Mills’s head snapped up. “You know this man?” He pointed at the body.

“I mean, we’ve never talked, but I’ve seen him before. At the compound. He was their leader.”

Mills frowned. “Do you know his name?”

“Maybe Logan does? I think he spoke to the guy.”

And then this man had come in right when they’d been about to leave.

He’d pulled a gun, and Tristan had shot him. Her brother might not have lost his life, but wherever he was?

He was in big trouble.

TEN

Logan dugthe rake into a pile of retardant-soaked ashy debris and dragged it back. Every sweep, he wondered if he might find Tristan’s body under the remains of the compound. The whole place smelled like accelerant—not a great sign, since he’d soaked that pile of kindling and wood in gasoline and lit it up.

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