Page 67 of Hot Knot Summer
I frown, straightening in my seat. That’s definitely not a police officer, as there’s no cruiser in sight, just a nondescript sedan parked near the cabin that wasn’t there when I arrived.
Curiosity piqued, I exit my car, adjust my aching cock, and approach the scene, deliberately making enough noise with my boots on the gravel that I don’t startle her. She doesn’t notice me immediately, too focused on whatever she’s searching for among the ashes.
“Finding anything interesting?” I ask casually, keeping my tone friendly.
She startles, spinning to face me with wide eyes. Up close, she’s conventionally pretty with minimal makeup applied, expensive clothes, and sleek brown hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“This is a closed site,” she says, recovering quickly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I raise an eyebrow at her audacity. She’s the one clearly trespassing, yet she’s trying to warn me off?
“I could say the same to you,” I reply, gesturing to the police tape we’ve both ignored. “Looking for something specific?”
“Nothing,” she says too quickly. “Just... searching. You should mind your business.”
I study her, taking in the tense set of her shoulders and the way her eyes keep darting back to a particular section of the burned cabin. Subtly, I slip my phone from my pocket and snap a few photos of her while pretending to check messages.
“If you tell me what you’re looking for, I might be able to help,” I offer, stepping closer. “These fire scenes can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
She gives me a more thorough assessment now, her gaze traveling from my boots to my face with growing interest. When she meets my eyes, her expression shifts, a calculated smile replacing her wariness.
“Well, I lost something,” she explains, her voice suddenly softer, more inviting. “Dropped it here the other day, and I just need to find it, that’s all.” She takes a step toward me, head tilting flirtatiously. “But thanks for offering. Maybe we could catch up for a drink later if you’re free?”
The transformation is jarring, from defensive to seductive in the span of seconds. It reminds me uncomfortably of myself in my younger years, whencharm was a survival strategy rather than a natural expression of personality.
I shrug, noncommittal. Something about this woman makes my instincts flare with caution. “How about I help you first? Hate to see you going through these fire remains alone. Like I said, it can be dangerous.”
She steps forward again, close enough now that I can smell her perfume, something expensive and overpowering that makes me want to step back.
“I know what I’m doing,” she snaps, then immediately softens her tone, composing her features into something more pleasant. “I mean, I’m being careful.”
An uncomfortable silence stretches between us as I study her. The calculation in her eyes, the slight tension in her posture. She’s hiding something.
“My name’s River,” I finally offer, extending a hand.
She hesitates before taking it, her grip too firm, like she’s trying to prove something. “Nice to meet you, but I am a bit busy.” She withdraws her hand quickly. “So, either yes to drinks later, or please don’t waste my time.” She turns away, resuming her search by poking through the remains with a stick, deliberately ignoring the police tape that marks this as an active investigation site.
“I can’t do that,” I say, dropping all pretense of casualness. “Especially since I’m here to investigate what started this fire.” I reach out, gently but firmly grasping her arm as she starts tomove away. “Unless there’s something you want to tell me about this cabin and the fire?”
She glances up, and I feel a slight tremor run through her arm before she controls it.
“I told you,” she says, voice tight. “I dropped something here the other day. I know nothing about this stupid fire.” She wrenches her arm free with more force than necessary.
“Fair enough,” I say, unconvinced but unwilling to escalate the situation without backup. “You got a name? And number... for later, then?”
She stares at me for a long moment, calculation clear in her dark eyes. “Nah, you lost out on that, pretty boy,” she finally says, turning away and marching toward her car with quick, angry steps.
I watch her go, memorizing the license plate of her sedan as she drives away. Something isn’t right here, but I can’t put my finger on exactly what.
Before I can dwell on it further, a police cruiser finally pulls up, nearly an hour late. I sigh, heading back to my car to retrieve my gloves and investigation kit. Whatever that woman was looking for, I intend to find it first.
“So far, we haven’t pinpointed exactly where the fire started,” I explain to Atlas and Levi back at the station later that afternoon. “Burnpatterns give us some clues, but a lot of the structure’s collapsed, especially around the eastern wall. We need more hands to move the fallen sections safely and check underneath. Once the cops get back to us and we’ve got access again with a bigger team, we’ll head back out and take another run at it.”
Atlas nods, his expression grave. “Any sign of deliberate tampering with the wiring?”
“Nothing obvious,” I admit. “Old cabins with some signs of rodent wear on the wiring as you’d expect in any place, but nothing to start a fire. So, I doubt it was that. Something started the fire on the ground floor inside the cabin I suspect though. There was some evidence of soot buildup as if it was a candle, but she had said she blew them all out, so unsure if that was from the fire just consuming candles left behind. But there could be more once we remove the fallen walls.”
“Emma was convinced she hadn’t left any candles lit,” Levi suggests.
