Page 47 of Crown of Smoke

“You think I know everyone who worked at the house that night?” he asks, his voice raw.

I nod. “Do you?”

He glances at the paper. “These were people, Lucy, not a story.”

His words hurt me. Am I being callous? “I know that?—”

“Just because you think the Ifrinns were as undeserving to live as the Keans, doesn’t make this any less a tragedy.”

I stare at him, wondering where this is coming from. “I’m sorry if I’m being dismissive of them. I’m not. I’m trying to figure out what happened.”

“Why?”

“Are you angry with me?”

He scrapes his hands over his face. “I’m trying to figure you out. Why you stupidly put yourself in danger for people you don’t think are worthy. Why you fuck me and then walk out on me. Is this all about the story? That’s it? Am I part of your investigation? You got an up close and personal investigation of me, and now you’re done? Will you detail my tattoos in your story since you studied them pretty closely?”

He’s calling me out about the other night. I don’t blame him. It was rude.

“No. I just… everything is so… intense. I don’t know you, Flynn.” I swallow. “This pull between us is unsettling.”

He softens and moves to me. “For a woman who likes to walk into danger, your hesitation about me is surprising.”

I give him a small smile. “You feel the most dangerous of all.”

“I’m the one who keeps saving you.”

I guess he is.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m as unsettled by this thing between us as well.” He pushes a strand of my hair away from my face.

“Is that why you seem disinterested in what I’m sharing with you?”

“I’m more interested in you.” He leans in and kisses me. I let him because I don’t have the willpower to stop him.

When he pulls away, he smiles and turns to the papers. "You've been busy."

“That’s what I do. Research.” The change in his demeanor throws me off. A minute ago, he was distant, distracted. Now he’s calm and showing an interest in my research.

“The delay in response and changes in the report aren’t a surprise. The police were in on it,” he says matter-of-factly.

Annoyed, I glare at him. "You knew this but didn't tell me? This isn't a one-way street, Flynn. You're supposed to tell me information too."

He arches a brow. “It’s well known that people like the Keans have important people in their pocket.”

“Do you know who was in theirs that night?”

“No. Not specifically. But I’d guess this guy.” He points to the name on the report,Detective Marshall. “I wonder what position he holds now.”

I riffle through my papers. "He showed up immediately after the fire, gave statements to the press before the scene had even cooled." I find the article and slide it across to Flynn.

Flynn's jaw tightens as he studies the image of Marshall in the paper. "He declared it an accident within hours. Before any real investigation could happen."

"Exactly." I lean closer, lowering my voice though we're alone. "He was promoted to sergeant detective a few months later.” I hand him another article. “He was one of the fastest rising in the police. He was Superintendent Captain just a few years later."

"The pet. A reward for services rendered," Flynn mutters, his fingers curling around the edge of the article.

“The pet?”

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