The Fireman's Son by Tara Taylor Quinn

Author:Tara Taylor Quinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

ONCE THE DEAL had been signed, Reese couldn’t get the testing done soon enough. What Faye had said about the outcome changing his life forever wasn’t sitting well with him. He tried to ignore her words.

But they nagged at him. Like a pesky gnat he could barely see but that kept making him itch.

His first thought had been to get samples from Elliott and Faye—tests were more conclusive if the lab also had the mother’s DNA for comparison—immediately and take them to his friendly LA lab, have his own sample taken, and have them processed immediately.

Faye thought it better for Sara to determine how best to secure Elliott’s sample so as not to raise his suspicions, and to have a local lab run the test.

There was no valid, professional or mature reason to disagree.

By noon on Monday, he’d already been swabbed and dismissed. When he’d pressed, the technician had told him he could know as early as Wednesday, depending on how soon the other two samples came in.

With the rest of the day off, Reese threw in a load of laundry. Went hiking. Did another load of laundry and headed to LA to look again at the serial gasoline fire evidence. That was what should occupy his thoughts. That was what should keep him up at night.

He’d done every test he could think of on the white paint. It was interior paint generally used on household walls. Which meant that whatever the perp had burned in that particular fire had most likely come from inside a house.

The escalation told him the arsonist was angry.

Dead chickens...he didn’t know if those were accidental or on purpose. The gasoline hadn’t gone all the way to the pen, but dried brush had caught fire, which was how the chickens died. It was the only thing different about that particular crime scene. Other than the fact that the fire had been set closer to human habitation.

Each one was getting closer.

His arsonist could be getting more careless. Or perhaps the fire truck had taken longer than he’d expected to arrive on scene. The arsonist needed whatever was in the middle of that circle to burn off before the truck arrived, but then needed the truck there quickly to avoid notable damages.

Was the perp testing Reese? It wasn’t the first time the question had occurred to him. Was it someone who had a beef with him? Trying to find out if his crew—and he as investigator—could keep Santa Raquel safe?

The police department was working any and all leads. They’d already cleared anyone else connected with the fire chief position when it had been open. Anyone who’d interviewed, expressed interest, and any family members of the same.

The perp was meticulous enough to leave no trace. Maybe that was why he kept the scenes small. Contained by circular gas, and only enough to burn for so long.

Had that last fire just been a miscalculation of how close and how dry the brush had been?

His instincts said not.

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