Page 51 of Forged By Fire

Paris cleared his throat. “I take it his wife did die in the fire?”

“There’s no way she made it. There were two fatalities that day.” She looked at the file again. “The names of the victims are in there—both women. But I don’t see the names of the surviving family members.”

“I’ve got it,” Logan announced. “One second… Yep. Okay, the fire took place… Whoa. It was one year ago last Monday.” He raised his gaze from his laptop screen.

“What about the survivors of the two women who died?” Paris leaned forward, his forearms on the table.

“Bella Adams was in the apartment where the fire originated. She was survived by her son, Daniel, and her daughter, Karen. Her husband had passed five years prior. Let me see. The other victim was Marissa Boulder. She was survived by her husband—” Logan looked up sharply. “Jacob Boulder.”

Clint sat up straighter. “Ortiz said that someone had referred to his roommate as Jake once.”

Paris nodded. “What is the last known address for Jacob Boulder?”

Logan worked on his computer for several minutes and then sat back, his shoulders dropping. “I’m not seeing a current physical address for him, but he does rent a post office box on the other side of town.”

“All right.” Paris slapped his hands on the top of the table and stood. “It’s late, and I’m sure the post office is closed. I’m going to try to contact someone, though. Logan, see if you can find a connection between Jacob Boulder, Ortiz, and King. Clint, take Leslie home. There’s a goodchance not much is going to happen overnight unless we get lucky. You may as well get some sleep.”

Leslie must’ve been exhausted because she didn’t even argue when he placed a hand against her back to escort her out of the conference room.

Some of the tension in his neck eased with the idea that they may be close. He had a strong suspicion that Jacob Boulder was their guy. Now they just had to track him down and bring him into custody.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The sound of her cell phone ringing pierced Leslie’s jumbled dream. She blinked as confusion and the remains of the dream muddled her mind. Where was she? She started to sit up, and her arm gave a painful twinge.

She was sleeping on the couch. That’s right. It’d been Clint’s suggestion. He thought it would help prevent her from accidentally rolling onto her injured arm in the middle of the night. Judging from the pain now, it was a good decision.

Her head dropped back onto the pillow, and she breathed in deep. It and the blanket smelled faintly of Clint’s soap or deodorant. Whatever it was, it made her feel safe.

A text came through on her phone, reminding Leslie of what woke her up in the first place.

More carefully this time, she sat up and reached for the phone as Clint padded out of the guest room in his bare feet.

“Are you okay?” He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay. I missed a call?—”

It was from Cindy, and it was almost one in the morning. The text was from her, too.

Sorry to wake you, but I need your help. Bree’s sick again, and I just dropped glass all over the kitchen floor.

Leslie tried to call her sister back, but it went to voicemail. Had Cindy cut herself on the glass? She pictured her sister trying to carry Bree while bleeding all over the floor. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t answered her call. She sent a text.

Oh, no! Just leave the glass. I’ll be there soon to help you clean it up.

She tossed her phone onto the coffee table, then told Clint what was going on as she threw the blanket off her legs. “Cindy wouldn’t have called this late if she didn’t really need help. She might have cut herself on the glass. And trust me, when Bree isn’t feeling well, she can be a screaming machine. I’m going to change quick.”

“Let me know if you need any help. I’ll get ready and drive you over.”

The prospect of Clint helping her dress sent heat straight to her face. Suddenly, she was aware of the fact that he was wearing a pair of sleep pants and a T-shirt that was tight enough to showcase all the muscles in his arms and chest. Between that and the messy hair...

Her throat dry, she forced herself to speak casually. “Yeah. Thank you.” She hurried from the room.

Back at the hospital, she’d had the nurse help her into a clean bra and long-sleeved shirt, which she still wore. All she needed was a pair of jeans, which she managed to button with one hand. She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her purse.

Within minutes, they were in Clint’s car on the way to Cindy’s house. Not for the first time, Leslie was glad they lived on the same side of town.

As they pulled up to the house, Leslie noticed that most of the lights were on.

---