“Yeah, I knew.”
“Blows my fucking mind, but figured as much. It went down about like the arson investigator said. Molotov cocktail through the front window. There might have been a little something extra in the mix to give it some oomph, because the place barbecued fast. But of course you already know that because you were there, you sneaky bastard. Here’s the weird thing. Security cameras monitored the store, and the fire never reached the back office so the computers were salvageable. Everything was there, employee schedules, financial information—and surprisingly Shelby was making a solid profit—but the security footage was missing.”
“But Shelby and I were the only two people there before the fire and neither of us touched the computer.” A ripple chased down Reece’s spine. Excitement, dread. Probably both. His blackmailer had sent him the security footage with the first email. Was it possible Shelby’s fires and his blackmail problem were connected?
“Except,” Vaughn continued, “the footage didn’t disappear until after the computer was collected into evidence. The investigators hadn’t even looked at it yet and were all shocked that it was gone.”
“Who would have access besides law enforcement?”
“Nobody.”
Reece sat back in his chair and rubbed at the unshaved stubble on his chin. Why would a cop blackmail him? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense and he was so fucking tired of having more questions than answers.
“There’s something else,” Vaughn said.
Reece groaned. “There always is.”
“Cam told you about the fire at the house across the street from Eva’s a few years back? I looked into that too. Eva was out of town, and Shelby had just moved in after breaking up with a boyfriend. The guy, Steven Moore, was the number one suspect in that fire. The going theory is he wanted to get back at Shelby for ending things, but flambéed the wrong house. He disappeared shortly afterward and hasn’t been seen since.”
“So he could be behind the Molotov cocktail at The Bean Gallery. And…” His parents’ house, the last link he’d had to them, was gone. His stomach lurched at the reminder and he cleared his throat. “And last night.”
Vaughn inclined his head. “It’s a possibility, if Moore’s back in town.”
“We need to find him.”
Vaughn said nothing for a beat. “I’m not dropping my search for Lark.”
“I didn’t say you have to. But, man, I seriously need your help right now. If there’s a firebug gunning for Shelby, we need to stop him. She’s escaped two fires already. Odds are not on her side that she’ll escape another.”
Another stretch of silence. Finally, Vaughn nodded and shoved out of his chair. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
Vaughn paused at the door and glanced back. “Have you heard from Greer?”
“Nothing. You?”
“Nope.” He scratched at his chin. “I know it’s not the first time he’s pulled a Houdini on us, but…this time feels different. Should we be worried?”
It did feel different. And, yes, his gut told him something was wrong. “I’ll go over to his place when I leave here, look around.”
Vaughn grunted. “I’m going to kick his ass when he turns up.”
“I’d pay to see that. Especially given your recent fashion accessory.”
Vaughn scowled down at his walking cast. “Fucking thing comes off in a week, and then I’m burning it.”
Since the twins had the office covered, Reece decided to pack it up and go get some work done at DMW Systems. But, first, a trip to Greer’s place.
Greer lived on the other side of a postage-stamp-sized park out behind the Wilde Security office. It was usually faster to walk over, but the wind had bite today and Reece opted to drive around the block. He pulled into the complex’s parking lot and scanned for Greer’s ten-year-old Jeep Cherokee, but didn’t see it.
Inside, the apartment building was light-years away from his in terms of style. Where his looked like a swanky hotel, Greer’s building opened into a drab corridor with mailboxes on one wall, elevators on another, and stairs in the back. There was also an empty desk, presumably for a security guard, but in all the years Greer had lived in the building, Reece had never seen anyone manning that desk.
Greer lived on the second floor, so Reece didn’t bother waiting for the elevator, which was notoriously slow, and pushed through into the stairwell. He took the steps two at a time and strode to apartment 211, a man on a mission.
His knock received no reply. He waited a moment. Pounded on the door again, harder. Still nothing. Or at least nothing from Greer’s silent apartment. The door across the hall opened, though, and a pretty woman with short dark hair peeked out.