Page 52 of Fragile Sanctuary

“Just answer,” I pressed. I didn’t want to put any ideas in Shep’s head before he answered me.

He scowled in my direction. “I don’t know. All of us hung out downtown when we were growing up. Nine times out of ten, it was there or at the river. It’s not like there’s a lot to do around here.” Then something shifted in his expression as if he were trying to grab hold of a memory.

“What?” I clipped.

“She and Fallon. They had this volunteer gig. All middle schoolers have to complete a certain number of hours. They helped the town landscaping crew that spring, replanting the beds by each crosswalk.”

I wanted to let a million different curses fly. I’d seen those beds at each intersection. I’d seen crews revitalizing them just a few weeks ago in preparation for spring.

“Why are you asking?” Shep ground out.

“There were other fires around the time of this one,” I said, gesturing to the house.

Shep frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The one in the middle school girls’ locker room.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod. “The firework prank. The principal was pissed.”

I didn’t argue with him. Not yet. “There was that series of dumpster fires downtown that weren’t solved.”

“Okay,” Shep agreed.

“And then the fire in the bathroom at the river trailhead.”

Shep’s jaw worked back and forth as everything came together in his mind. “All places Rho frequented.”

“Exactly.”

“But other people did, too. Fallon and probably half a dozen others,” he argued.

“They didn’t have their house burned to the ground and their family killed.”

Shep stared at me long and hard. “That’s a stretch. Fires happen, and this one was an accident.”

“Maybe,” I muttered. “But I still want to see the fire reports.”

My friend blinked at me. “And you want me to get them. How the hell am I supposed to do that? Unless I tell Trace you’re ex-FBI with a sick hunch.”

Just the idea of that piece of my history coming to light had pressure settling on my chest, making it hard to take a full breath. “You’ll think of something. Get creative.”

“Trace isn’t exactly going to believe that I’m suddenly some sort of criminal version ofA Beautiful Mind.”

“Tell him something isn’t sitting right about the fire here. That you did some digging. That’s believable.”

The urge to run fast and far was strong. I wanted to get the hell away from anything that had to do with fucked-up minds and evil of any sort. If someone had been setting fires at places Rho touched, they were definitely both of those things.

Shep cursed. “I’ll do my best, but this means he’ll start sticking his nose into this, too. He’ll be around more.”

I swallowed the aversion to having law enforcement anywhere in my vicinity—too many bad memories. Because if someone had been targeting Rho, that was exactly what she needed.

As I stepped outsideinto the early evening breeze, I ripped off my mask for the final time. God, I hated those things.

The rest of the crew did the same, heading for their various vehicles. But Owen hovered, not moving toward his beat-up pickup.

I finally glanced in his direction.

He crushed his mask in his grip, his gaze dropping to the gravel. “You were right.”

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