Page 22 of Out of the Fire
I rolled my eyes. I could sympathize with not wanting to tell your wife’s sister no, but he wasn’t the one who had to test this shit. Literally. They really needed to pay me more.
“Fine,” I huffed.
“I’ll make it up to you.” He chuckled darkly, and I legitimately worried about what he was thinking. “I’ll have one of the guys pull James over for something stupid.”
I shook my head. “He isn’t worth it.” Although the idea did sound somewhat enticing.
He tipped his head to my computer screen. “Focus on the ring camera footage. The dog shit can wait.”
“I would prefer to get that out of the way so it’s not sitting in my office all day.”
“Fair enough.” He turned to leave the office, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Send me the results and let me know if you get anything off the footage.”
I stared at the bag on my desk after Dylan left my office and sighed. I still couldn’t believe I had to do this.
The literal crap that had landed on my desk done, I turned my focus back to the videos. After watching a few hours of footage, I paused the tape and jumped up, heading out to find Dylan.
“I got them,” I announced excitedly as I approached his desk.
“The teenagers?”
“Yes. One of the cameras caught them running across the street a few houses up the street from the fire.”
He stood. “Show me.”
I turned and headed back toward my office, excited to have caught another break. Hopefully we could identify at least one of these kids and they could give us a new lead.
Chapter Thirteen
SETH
I shiftedthe foil-covered pot in my right arm. Was this dumb? The idea of cut flowers had never sat well with me. You give someone something that dies in a couple of days. It was not only a waste of money, but kind of a dumb gesture. Well, to me, at least.
Ever since I was a teenager, I would give my mom potted plants for special occasions, and then I started doing that for my ex. Lucy never really appreciated it, so I stopped, but my mom loved having plants around the house and flowers in the gardens outside.
I wanted to do something for Violet that showed my appreciation for agreeing to my ludicrous plan in the first place. Now, standing outside her house, I cringed, wondering if I hadn’t thought this through very well. Or maybe overthought it. What if Violet liked a vase full of flowers?
Shit. I had no idea what Violet liked.
I rang the doorbell and stepped back. We hadn’t talked since Wednesday morning, and that was just her response to my text from the night before to give me the details for tonight. She’d wanted to meet me at Mamacitas, but I’d convinced her to let me pick her up. That way, if she wanted to have a few drinks with her friends, she didn’t have to worry about driving home.
The door swung open and her gaze immediately traveled down to the African Violet in my hands. It was a fairly low-maintenance plant, and since they shared a name, I thought it was the perfect choice.
She smiled brightly. “Is that for me?”
I nodded. At least she didn’t seem to hate it. “Yeah.”
She stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come on in. I have the perfect place to put it.”
She turned and I followed her through the house to the kitchen, failing to stop my gaze from drifting down to the swell of her ass. Suddenly she spun back to me and I almost collided right into her, making it obvious I was distracted.
A slight pink crept up her neck and into her face as she reached out, taking the pot from my hands. “African Violets need indirect light, so I think my hutch right here would work well. The light from the sliding glass door will be enough.”
My shoulders finally relaxed. Not only did she not think the gesture was stupid, but she was familiar with the plant.
While she got the plant situated, I took a minute to take in her kitchen. It was bright and airy. Neat. Pops of vibrant blues and purples. Again, the complete opposite of the way she looked.Tonight the long sleeves of her black dress matched the fishnets she wore on her legs.
“You know I was only kidding when I asked if you were finally going to bring me flowers.” She turned back to face me. “I think you’re the first guy to ever give me a potted plant.”
