Page 45 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
She gave him a smile over her shoulder, looking surprised and pleased. “Thank you.”
His brows drew together. “For what?”
“For both knowing that and for being willing to take on Mrs. Lin for me,” she said as he caught up to walk next to her. “Now, which way?”
“Straight ahead. It’s the last office on the right.”
As they walked into the fire marshal’s office, Steve glanced at Camille and saw that her smile of just a few seconds ago was gone, and the grim set of her mouth was back. He knew the thought of the upcoming meeting was forcing her to mentally relive the fire, and it bothered him that he couldn’t save her from the horrible memories, or from having to recount the entire experience to Jackie. He resisted the urge to put an arm around Camille again, knowing that it was one thing when they were alone at what remained of her house, and another in front of Len Gershowitz, Jackie’s assistant and probably an even more prolific gossip than Deanna Lin. Steve didn’t care what was being spread around Borne about the two of them, but he worried that Camille might be bothered by it.
Already, Len was looking back and forth between the two of them, his eyes bright with interest as he gave Camille a sympathetic grimace. “I’m so sorry about your house.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, looking even more miserable.
“Hey, Len. Is Jackie still here?” Steve wanted to get this done so that he could take Camille home. There the kids could cheer her up and get her mind off of what had happened. He knew from personal experience that they were good at that.
“Sure is. Jackie!” Len hollered without leaving his chair. “Camille and Steve are here to talk to you!”
“Send them in!” Jackie yelled from inside her office.
Len waved them toward the door, and Steve followed Camille inside. “Camille.” Jackie, looking a little more harried than usual, stood up behind her desk and offered her hand. “Sorry about the house, but I’m glad you didn’t burn with it. Hey, Steve.” After shaking both of their hands, Jackie gestured for them to take the two chairs facing her desk before retaking her own seat.
“Steve said you needed to get my statement?” Camille said, and Jackie reached back to grab a few sheets of paper out of a printer.
“Yeah, I do. Here.” She handed Camille the paper and then shuffled some things around, hunting for a pen. She picked up a yellow highlighter, appeared to consider it, and then dropped it again and resumed her search. “Aha! Knew there was one around here.” She seized the pen she’d discovered under a mound of papers and offered it to Camille. “Just write what happened last night. I find it best to wait to ask you any questions until you’ve given me your statement.”
“Okay.” Camille scooted forward, as if to use Jackie’s desk as a writing surface, but stopped, blocked by the messy piles of papers and folders. “Um…?”
“Right. Sorry about that. Len!” She bellowed the last word, making Camille visibly jump.
“What?”
“Is there a clipboard up there?”
There was a pause, and then Len called back, “Yes!”
Jackie started to stand, but Camille rose, putting out a hand to stop her. “I’ll go get it.” She slipped out of the office before Jackie or Steve could argue. Through the open door, Steve heard Len start to pepper her with questions, and he grimaced. Retrieving the clipboard was going to take a few minutes.
“Still looking like the old wiring was the cause?” Steve asked.
Jackie settled back in her chair, her mouth pulling down on one side as it always did when she was thinking. “Seems likely, but I’m keeping an open mind. Her neighbor sure had a boatload of possible suspects.”
At the wordsuspects, Steve tensed and leaned forward. “You’re thinking it could’ve been intentional?” He kept his voice low, not wanting to add one more stressor onto Camille’s already full plate.
“It’s always a possibility.” Jackie gave a slight shrug, her alert gaze fixed on Steve. “You’re closer to Camille than I am. What’re your thoughts?”
He immediately bristled at the implication that Camille could have had anything to do with her house fire. The image of her face when he told her it hadn’t been her fault flashed in his mind. She’d been so relieved and grateful, and he didn’t want anything to ruin that and return the heavy load of guilt he knew she’d been carrying. He tried not to let his feelings show as he asked, “My thoughts about what?”
“You were one of the first ones on scene last night. What were your impressions?”
“My impressions?” He sat back, mirroring Jackie’s position, well aware that the fire marshal was intentionally keeping her questions vague. It was the same reason she was having Camille write her statement before asking any questions: to prevent influencing her report. Steve had been around cops enough to know that someone’s first answer was usually the most truthful one. He spent a few seconds organizing his thoughts before speaking, focusing on what he knew and discarding any nebulous gut feelings. “The point of origin looked to be in the north wall of the workshop, which had originally been an attached garage. My first assumption was that the cause was most likely electrical…that mice had chewed and nested in the old wiring, to be specific.”
“Hmm…” Jackie played with a paper clip, unbending and re-bending it until it came apart in her hands. Looking down at the two bits of metal in surprise, she tossed them toward a trash can. “Camille was in the workshop when it started?”
“I believe so. I know she exited through the front workshop door and tried to go back into the house to get her cat.”
Jackie shuffled through the papers in a manila folder. “The neighbor called nine-one-one at…” She paused, skimming one of the reports. “Two seventeen, after hearing the fire alarm. Was that Mrs. Lin?” She read a little further and then shook her head. “A Mr. Walter Franklin, looks like. So, the first responders arrive on scene at two thirty-four.” She looked up at Steve from under narrow brows. “You came from the ranch? Pretty quick response on your part.”
Resisting the urge to shift his weight, Steve kept his body still and his gaze even. Somehow, what was supposed to be a chance for Camille to give her statement had turned into more of an interrogation—of both her and Steve. “In the past fifteen years as a firefighter—most of those in more remote places than this—I’ve learned that getting there fast is critical. I have it down to a science now.”
