“I didn’t often see young men before me who looked so repentant. You admitted your guilt. That’s why I didn’t sentence you to juvenile detention. I figured a year of community service working with other kids headed down the wrong way might wake you up.”
“It did.” He turned to Carly. “I tutored juvies for a year. Best education on what not to do in the world.” He looked back at Aunt Fredda. “I wasn’t a bad kid, but your verdict made me choose a career in law enforcement. Thank you.”
Aunt Fredda’s expression turned friendly again. “You did that. I only pointed out the path.” She patted his hand before glancing at Carly. “I take it your being together has something to do with that fire last night.”
Presented like that, Carly couldn’t lie. “Yes. And we need to talk.”
“I see. Then you might want to take that discussion into the dining room. For privacy.”
Carly headed in that direction, not at all certain they wouldn’t be eavesdropped upon anyway. Aunt Fredda was worried. She could see that in her aunt’s eyes.
Carly indicated that Noah take a seat as she rounded the table to sit opposite him. Harley came in quietly, as if he understood Fredda Wiley’s beautifully appointed dining room was no place for misbehaving. Carly smiled at the dog when he sat next to Noah and set his big head on his thigh with a sigh. “Was Harley really a seeing eye dog?”
“He was mostly a see-food, eat-food dog.” Noah stroked his dog calmly. “When he’s on duty, he’s alert and all business. But when he’s off duty, he’s pretty much a total slob. He’s either looking for trouble, eating, or sleeping.”
“What kind of work? I thought he failed as a service dog.”
“Ever try a sport and been terrible at it? Then you try a different one and excel? Harley’s like that. He’s now an explosives specialist. It’s not unusual for a canine who fails one service-dog program to be handed off to another professional K-9 program. They’ve already been screened for intelligence, diligence, hardiness, and trainability. After the seeing-eye gig didn’t work out, Harley went to the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives to be trained as an explosives K-9. He’s got a great nose. And he’s thorough. A year ago he was offered to our arson investigation unit as part of Homeland Security cross-training. He’s trained to detect a variety of components used in bombs, as well as the explosives and accelerants themselves. I’ve always had dogs, so I got him.”
Noah reached into his back pocket and pulled out a notepad. “Now that the polite talk is over, I want you to tell me everything that happened last night. No detail is too small.”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate.”
He glanced up at her, the friendly wrinkles around his eyes going squint hard. “Why not?”
Carly lifted her chin. “You’re a suspect in a crime. I’m a witness. Discussing what happened could—what’s the word?—taint my testimony.”
“What makes you think you’ll need to testify?”
She simply stared at him.
He rubbed his forehead. “Let’s get this straight once and for all. I was the target. Someone tried to murder me last night.”
The words hung in the air as Fredda Wiley entered with a tray containing plates with generous scoops of chicken salad on lettuce cups, piles of green and red grapes, some kind of cheese, and two long sections of fresh baguette. She said nothing directly, but the look she gave her niece crawled right up Carly’s nape.
“I’ve got coffee brewing. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
They waited until she was gone, then Carly met Noah’s gaze, gorgeous chocolate-drop eyes boring into his. “I sympathize with you, truly I do. But I’ve already given my statement to the officers handling the investigation.”
The truth struck him in the chest. Before, at the hospital, he’d thought she was a bit hysterical, and rightly so. She’d had a bad scare. But now he didn’t see fear in her eyes so much as opaque disinterest. “You don’t believe me.”
Silence. Then, “I don’t know what to believe. And I want to do the right thing here. For the moment that seems to be not taking sides.”
He folded his notepad. “I get it. I respect that. If you’re scared, I can—”
“I’m not scared.” Carly popped a grape in her mouth and chewed. “I’ve been fifteen rounds with Death once before. And lost. I don’t like losing, okay?”
He looked deep into her eyes and believed her. “Someone you cared deeply about? Right?”
“Don’t push me. I bite.”
He believed her. It would hurt like hell, too. But he suspected he wouldn’t mind. “Fine. Then tell me how I can win your trust.”
To his utter surprise she seemed to consider his question. She wanted something from him.
She reached over a cut a wedge of cheese and nibbled one end before speaking. “I’m worried about my shop being vandalized before I can get my things out of there. I’m still looking for pieces of jewelry. Some are quite valuable. The insurance adjuster suggested I hire security until I can collect them all.”
He nodded. “Done.”