Page 43 of Into the Fire

“Where was your daughter sleeping?” Marc asked.

“In the guest room, down the hall.”

“Did you tell that to Detective Kavanaugh?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He agreed the location seemed odd. He also asked questions about the remnants of what appeared to be a candle in the bottom of the trash can. He got even more interested when I told him that as far as I knew, Michelle never burned candles in the house. She thought they were a fire hazard.”

Bri rejoined the conversation. “During any of your conversations, did Detective Kavanaugh happen to mention other cases he was working on?” A long shot, but worth asking.

“No. During our last call, though—about a week before he died—he told me he was beginning to make connections that could prove helpful. I tried to find out more, but that was all he offered. Do you know what he meant?”

“Nothing specific.” Bri slipped her pen back into her shoulder tote. Unless she was able to match the notations on Les’s list to specific cases and search the reports for commonalities, it would be imprudent to say more. “I expect Detective Kavanaugh asked this, but did your daughter have any enemies you were aware of?”

“No. She was sweet and kind. Everyone loved her.”

“So what would be the motive to do her harm?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was an intruder. She could have been a random target.”

If that was the case, the odds of finding the culprit plummeted.

But Bri left that unsaid.

“Do you have anything else you’d like to share with us?”

“Yes.” He pushed himself to his feet, crossed to a large bookshelf, and withdrew a photo album. When he returned, he held it out. “If you can spare another three or four minutes, I’d appreciate it if you’d page through this. I know you folks are busy, and this case isn’t a high priority, but a face and a story can bring a set of cold facts alive. Put a human touch on it that makes it more real. A lesson I learned in my days as a history teacher.”

Marc took the album. “We’d be happy to.” He flipped it open, scooted closer, and positioned it so they could both see the photos.

With him mere inches away, it was hard not to fixate on the flecks of gold in his dark-brown irises and the firm lips playing havoc with her respiration.

While Marc turned the pages, James Wallace hovered over them, offering brief explanations about what they were seeing. Michelle as a baby in her mother’s arms ... dressed as a Disney princess and clutching a treat bag on Halloween ... playing a piano on stage at a recital ... mugging for the camera with friends from behind a sweet sixteen birthday cake ... diploma in hand at high school graduation ... on her wedding day ... in a beach setting with her husband and parents before tragedy became their lot.

Bri tried to focus on the photos and the narrative, but the subtle, masculine scent of Marc’s aftershave swirling around her was reducing her brain to mush.

As the man beside her reached the last page and closed thealbum, she scooted a few inches away. Maybe distance would help clear her head.

James Wallace took the album back as Marc held it out. “Thank you both for stopping by today. I hope I can count on you to keep Michelle in mind and take another look at the case as time permits.”

With a glance, Marc deferred that question to her.

“Yes.” Bri forced her brain to engage. “I can promise I’ll dig deeper and keep this top of mind in the near term.”

“That’s all I ask.” He returned the album to its place on the bookshelf and faced them. “If either of you have lost people you love, you can understand how difficult it’s been for me to cope with the back-to-back deaths of the three people who meant the world to me. And to lose Michelle in such a terrible way ...” He swallowed. “A person never gets over a tragedy like that.”

“I understand. And you have my deepest sympathy.” Bri stood and gave him a business card. Marc did likewise. “I’m the lead on this case, but feel free to contact either of us if you think of anything else you’d like to share.” Then she took his hand and cocooned his cold fingers in hers. “Please know I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

His eyes grew glassy again. “Thank you for that, and for your kindness today. Both of you.” He reached out and shook Marc’s hand.

“I’ll be in touch with any news.” Bri took the lead toward the foyer.

After they said their goodbyes at the front door, Marc fell in beside her as they walked back to his car. “Sad situation.”

“Very.”

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