Page 17 of Bachelor Cop Finally Caught? (Hot off the Press! 2)

“I don’t know. I didn’t get all the way through it. I think you’d better look at it, Uncle Dan.”

Struck by the urgency in her voice, he took the notebook without looking at it. After a moment he glanced down, opened the book and flipped through a few pages.

The first phrase that caught his attention was “burn it all down.” Written in large, dark, angry-looking letters. He started turning the pages more slowly. Fire was mentioned on every page—worked into poetry, imagery, artwork, random notations. The phrase “burn it all down” appeared hundreds of times—printed, scribbled, drawn in elaborate graphic lettering.

“Tell me again where you found this, Polly,” he said, slowly raising his gaze to hers.

Her expression told him she knew what he was thinking. “It has something to do with all those arsons, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know. But I’d like to know who this notebook belongs to. You said it was in the bushes behind the school?”

She nodded. “I saw the fight, you know. All those guys started pushing and shoving, throwing things. People got knocked down, and their stuff got scattered. I’m thinking maybe this notebook slid under that bush in all the confusion. I only saw it afterward because the sun was shining on the metal binding.”

“You didn’t see who dropped it?”

“No. There were only a few people still on the grounds when Jenny and I left school. We stayed late to decorate the hallway for spirit week.”

“Did Jenny see what was written in here?”

“No. I picked it up and looked inside the cover for a name. When I didn’t see one, I asked a few people if it was theirs and they all said no. So I stuck it in my backpack and told Jenny I’d take it to the office Monday. I’ve already told you the rest.”

“I don’t want you to say anything about what you read in here to anyone, you understand?”

She nodded gravely. “I figured you’d say that. That’s why I didn’t even tell Mom.”

A bit guiltily, he cleared his throat. “We’ll, uh, tell your mom later.”

His sister would chew his hide for not immediately calling her about this, of course, but Dan didn’t want anyone knowing about this notebook until he’d had time to study it more closely.

Because she was as aware as Dan that her dear mother was one of the worst gossips in Edstown, Polly smiled a little and nodded. “We’ll tell her later,” she agreed.

His answering smile faded quickly. “I’m very serious, Polly. Don’t tell anyone what you read, okay?”

She bit her lip before asking, “Do you think I could be…well, you know…in danger or something?”

“I sincerely doubt it,” he answered, keeping his voice reassuring. “But just to be on the safe side, it’s best to keep quiet.”

“Uncle Dan, do you think someone at my school has been setting those fires?”

He didn’t want to believe that a teenager had been responsible for so much devastation. And he really didn’t want to believe a teenager had so far managed to outsmart him, the fire chief, and the experts from Little Rock. But he’d been doing this job long enough to accept that anything was possible. “I’ll look into it,” he assured her. “It’s probably totally unrelated. Most likely just a kid who takes his frustrations out in writing. Like a journal or something.”

Which was entirely possible, he reminded himself. But he intended to quietly show this notebook to a few teachers, see if anyone could identify the handwriting. After that…well, who knew?

“I’d better go,” Polly said, looking greatly relieved to have the notebook out of her possession. “Jenny’s waiting for me.”

That reminded him that someone was waiting for him, as well. And he almost winced at the thought of what Lindsey would do if she found out about this notebook. She’d go directly into bulldog reporter mode, long before he was ready for any hint to get out about this discovery—which could very well lead nowhere.

He would just have to make damned sure he didn’t let anything slip. He would fix her faucet, as he’d promised, and then get the hell out of her house and back to his investigation.

Dan was holding a toolbox when Lindsey opened the door to him just two hours after she’d left him in the hardware store. In his gray University of Central Arkansas sweatshirt and faded jeans, he could easily have passed for a sexy handyman rather than a cop. She considered telling him so—then decided that might send him running a bit prematurely.

Play it cool, she advised herself, and moved out of the doorway. “Come on in.”

He nodded and stepped past her. “Where’s the leaky faucet that’s been driving you batty?”

“Getting right down to business, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you like a drink or something first? I can make a pot of coffee.”

“Go ahead. I’ll have a cup after I fix the faucet.”

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