Noah slung his head left and right, each move sending a wrecking ball against his skull. “Hell. Maybe I was roofied by the bastard who left me to fry.”
Durvan leaned in close over the bed rail, as if in a friendly gesture. The expression on his face was anything but. “I’ve done what I could to keep you off the psych ward. Suicide usually earns a person a trip to La La Land. But if you start some paranoid sh—bull”—he glanced at Sandra—“about being drugged by persons unknown, you’re going to have a problem with more than me.”
Noah stared right back, ignoring itchy eyes that streamed. “You said they pumped drugs out of me. Can’t they do a blood test or something for roofies from what they took from me last night?”
“Maybe. But even if it turns out positive, it could put you in a worse position.”
“How’s that possible?” Sandra’s voice intervened.
Durvan didn’t even acknowledge her. His full attention was on Noah. “You know as well as I do, suicide by fire is nearly impossible. Once the higher functioning goes, even the most determined crazy can’t take the heat. You ever seen a burning corpse crawl out of a house on fire? I have. We got called to a blaze a few years back, started after a suicide hung himself. Fire burned through the hanging rope. He tried to escape. Made it halfway over the threshold on fire before he expired. Passed out on roofies would only show you had a well-planned-out suicide attempt.”
Noah shuddered internally at the images Durvan conjured, but he held his interrogator’s gaze. “I’m innocent.”
“Then that only leaves one question, Noah. Who wants you dead?”
Noah’s face went blank. “I don’t know.”
Durvan nodded once then reared back. “Just so we’re straight, I look after my arson people. So far, nothing’s been leaked to the media about your circumstances. The official line is there’s an investigation underway of a fire in which one of our people received minor injuries. But, as the saying goes, I’m not your biggest problem. If you become a liability or public relations problem the department heads won’t hesitate to throw you to the wolves.
Durvan stood up. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a dog in this fight. You. I’ll protect you as long as I can. But if it turns out you fucked up and pulled a lame-ass stunt last night, I’m going to arrest your sorry ass personally in front of as many cameras as I can gather. No one shits on my unit.”
When Durvan had closed the door behind him, Sandra came forward and patted Noah on the shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie. He believes you.”
“No, he doesn’t. I wouldn’t believe another man in the same circumstances.” He smiled at her. “You better call the folks before this gets out. Tell them I’m fine but not to talk to anybody until they hear from me personally.”
“I’ll do that. I just wanted to make certain first that you were okay.” She patted his cheek affectionately. “Now, what’s this about someone trying to burn you up?”
Noah wished his sister hadn’t heard that part. “I have no idea that’s even true. Maybe I was out and came across something suspicious. When I stopped to investigate, the perp got the drop on me.”
“Bull turkey.” Sandra had perched a fist on each hip. “Someone’s tried to off my little brother. I need to know all the details.”
“Look. I’ve got nothing more to say and won’t until I can get out of here and do some investigating on my own.”
She stared at him, Glover to Glover, and knew that the blood that ran through both their veins made him just as stubborn as her. She wouldn’t get anything more out of him now.
She dropped her fists and crossed her arms. “You’ll need my help if you really think Durvan doesn’t believe you.”
“If you want to help, tell me who called you about me.”
“He didn’t give his name. Just that there’d been a fire and you were in the hospital.” Sandra frowned. “I was too rattled to ask who it was.”
The answer was unsettling, but he didn’t want to rile his sister any more than she already was. “Like I said, I need to investigate. Would you check at the desk and see when I can get out of here? Hospitals make me sick.”
She smiled. “Sure thing. Sit tight.”
Noah watched her go in relief. They had a good relationship, even if ten years separated their ages. His sister had never been especially touchy-feely, yet she’d been there for him when he needed it during his very messy divorce. But this wasn’t her fight.
Noah closed his eyes, willing his brain to remember something. Anything.
A pair of dark eyes, widened by fear and worry, came into focus. Who was she? Durvan hadn’t given him her name, but he had ways of finding out. She would have given a statement at the scene. He knew who to ask to get it.