Page 249 of Her Reluctant Hero
Chapter Eleven
Peyton ignored Gabe’s questioning expression when she joined him in the lobby outside the jail. She should have waited before coming over here, should have taken more time to gather herself, to think through what she’d learned.
Gabe’s loyalty to the man who had been disloyal to him touched her. Because Gabe believed Doug was innocent, so did she. But the evidence was really of the oh-hell variety.
As in, oh hell, it was pretty damning.
Part of her didn’t want to destroy the faith Gabe had in Doug, not when he’d stepped out of his own resentment to defend the man.
They had no motive. Sheriff Bosquez had admitted as much to her. As long as he didn’t have motive, she could believe like Gabe, despite the physical evidence.
She couldn’t help studying Gabe’s hands though. While there was no recent burn, of, say, a metal handle searing into his palm, he had a number of scars, though he wore gloves on the line. So while she felt relief that they couldn’t pin this on Gabe, saying he set up Doug, she had to wonder about the relevance of Doug’s burn scars. Clearly they wouldn’t eliminate a lot of suspects by using lack of scars. All the Hot Shots had them.
She dropped to the bench beside Gabe with a sigh, looked toward the door where Doug would be released once he was processed.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Christ, Peyton. You’re the one who just got back from the sheriff’s office,” he blurted with uncharacteristic impatience.
Like she could keep anything from him. The man saw right through her, every time. “You wear gloves whenever you’re on the line?” She turned to him.
“Yeah.” His tone was edged with caution.
“Even when you’re operating the drip torch?”
“Especially then. You don’t want to take any chances.”
She reached for his hand, laid it palm up on her lap, traced her fingers over it. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice thicker.
She glanced up with a grin, saw his tightening jaw. “You have a lot of scars, for all the gear you wear.”
“Been doing this a long time.”
“But with the gloves, how do you get the scars?”
He folded his fingers over hers. “Peyton, what’s going on?”
“Doug has a scar, a recent one.”
“What are you talking about?”
She closed her eyes. When she told him, would he change his mind about Doug? And if he could, was Gabe the man she thought he was? “A scar from a heated drip torch, across the palm. That’s the evidence they have against him.”
He snorted and dropped her hand, folding his arms across his chest. “And you believe them.”
“I’ve been a reporter long enough not to take things at face value,” she said. “But you have to admit, it doesn’t look good.”
He closed his fist. “A lot of firefighters have burns.”
“This burn could lock him up.”
He pushed to his feet. “Then we’re going to have to prove he didn’t do it.”
His loyalty was commendable, and Peyton wondered, just for a minute, what it would be like to be on the receiving end.
“Did he tell the sheriff how he got it?” Gabe asked.
“He admitted it was from a drip torch, but on a fire in Yellowstone.”
