Tender Is The Night (12 page)

As he ran, his thoughts drifted back to Kate, to all her questions about his life. He hadn't answered any of them, not because he thought she was prying, but because he didn't have any answers.

It had been a long time since anyone had questioned what he was doing with his life. He barely kept in contact with what little family he had left, and his friends were scattered. There were a few guys in the city who he knew. He occasionally picked up a game of basketball at the gym or went out to a club for a drink and some conversation. But most of the time, he just had his head down, buried in a case that would probably haunt him until he died.

Which was why he had to solve it.

And it had to happen now—during this trio of fires. If he missed this opportunity, who knew when another one would come his way?

The second fire would most likely happen within the next few days, which reminded him that after they went to St. Bernadette's, they needed to focus on potential targets and decide if they could rule any out, and if not, how they could cover all the bases that needed to be covered.

He wished he had a team, five people he could send to stake out every possibility, but it was just him and Kate. Their partnership of two was going to have to be enough.

He had to admit she had proved to be incredibly helpful so far, more than he'd imagined when she'd first entered his office. But still, she was only one person.

Maybe Emma would get involved and bring some of her department with her. That was probably his only hope for getting more help.

When he reached the bridge, he slowed his pace down to a walk. For several long minutes he looked up at the bridge and out beyond it—at the Pacific Ocean. It was the first time he'd looked beyond the bridge, beyond the immediate goal in a long time, and that was because of Kate and all her damn questions about how isolated his life had become.

He didn't like that she was getting into his head. He hadn't dreamed about anything but fire in the last year until last night when he'd dreamed about her, when his brain had relived the kiss between them in excruciating detail.

That kiss couldn't have been that good, could it?

It was just because it had been a while, that was all.

But was it?

He'd never been good at lying to himself.

He hadn't kissed Kate just because she was there, and she was pretty. He'd kissed her because he couldn't stop himself.

But it wouldn't happen again. She'd said so. And while he hadn't exactly agreed, he knew she was right. He couldn't let his desire for Kate distract him from his goals.

With that thought in mind, he turned and ran even faster back the way he'd come. But no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't outrun his brain, and Kate stayed on his mind through a colder-than-normal shower, a quick breakfast, and a drive across town to pick her up.

Kate was waiting outside the apartment building when he pulled up. She wore black slacks and a short-sleeved silky cream-colored top.

"Good morning," she said, as she got into the car.

"You know you don't have to dress official for me."

"I'm not dressing for you, but I'm officially on the job, so I thought I should look the part, especially if I'm going to be flashing my badge around town. Did you have any brainstorms last night?"

He could hardly tell her all of his brainstorms had to do with getting her into bed.
Dammit
. He shook his head. He couldn't remember when he'd been this distracted. "No," he said shortly. "Nothing."

"I was thinking we should get back into the potential target sites today. As much as I don't want to alert my family to my presence here in the city, we should go by Ashbury Studios so I can let Sean and Jessica know they should beef up their security. And what about the other places? Shall we try to warn them? I know you didn't have much luck before when you tried to contact schools, but I feel like we should do something."

"Since I have you on the team, we might get better reception," he said. "Let's see if we can narrow down the list after we go by St. Bernadette's."

"Good idea. I was also making a list of suspects this morning, and it seems to be getting longer instead of shorter. But that could be a good thing. Better to have more prospects than none. It gives us new leads to chase, new paths to take."

"You woke up with a lot of energy."

"Mental energy," she said with a laugh. "My legs are in pain from last night's spin class. What about you?"

"I felt fine. I went for a run this morning."

"Really? So you are Superman."

"Probably only in my own head," he said dryly.

"You spend too much time in your head, Devin."

He had, until about three days ago when Kate had shown up in his office. "Did you see your brother last night? Has he asked you any questions about what you're doing here?"

"He was out. A woman came by to visit him though, one of his neighbors. She was very pretty but kind of nervous. She was really surprised to see me there. I quickly explained I was Ian's sister, but I'm not sure she believed me. It was kind of odd really."

"It doesn't sound that odd. A beautiful neighbor stops by to visit your single brother—what's so strange about that?"

"I don't know. It was just sisterly instinct. I've answered the door for a lot of girls looking for one of my brothers. And there was just something a little off about this one. Oh, and she told me not to mention she'd stopped by, that she'd just see Ian later. She really didn't want me to tell him she was there."

"Maybe she got embarrassed."

"Maybe." Kate didn't sound convinced.

He looked over at her. "What are you thinking?"

"That I'd like to check her out, maybe run her name through a database."

"That's against Bureau rules, Kate."

"I wasn't thinking of using the Bureau. I happen to know a private investigator who seems to have some skills."

"You want to hire me?"

"God, no. I don't have money for that. I want you to do me a favor."

He laughed. "You're always direct. I do like that about you."

"I don't know how else to be. I hate games. A guy I used to date was very passive-aggressive. He'd agree with me on everything, then he just wouldn't do it. I wish he would have just said he didn't want to do something instead of stringing me along."

"You won't have that problem with me—not that we're dating," he added quickly.

"We certainly wouldn't do that," she agreed.

He was happy to see St. Bernadette's on the next block. They were veering back into dangerous territory.

Since school was in session, they first stopped in the office where the principal told them that the counselor had already reported the details of their conversation. She escorted them to the library and asked the librarian to get them the yearbooks from the years when Rick Baines attended school there. She went on to say that she couldn’t provide contact information, even if she had it, which she didn't, since it had been twelve years since Baines had attended the school.

A few moments later, the librarian handed them the yearbooks in question. "You're welcome to take them with you, but we hope you'll bring them back."

"We will," Devin promised, happy that they could take the books out of the library.

As they left the school, Kate said, "There's a café not too far from here. In fact, we can walk. Want to get some coffee while we go through these?"

"Sounds good." He fell into step with her as they walked down a residential street, then into a more commercial area with shops and restaurants.

The Bird's View Café was on the third-floor rooftop deck of a building, offering a view of the city from the outdoor tables.

"This is cool," he said, as they took their coffees out to the deck. "I didn't know it was here."

"We used to come here in high school when we were cramming for tests. I wasn't sure it was still open." Kate tilted her head as she looked at him. "It occurs to me that I don't know very much about you, Devin. Where did you grow up? Was it here in San Francisco?"

"No, I grew up in Sacramento."

"Does your mom still live there?"

"She lives in Sonoma now with her husband and her daughter."

"She remarried after your dad died?"

"She remarried before he died. My mom left my dad when I was about ten. She said she got tired of waiting for him to come home from work."

"I'm sorry." Kate's eyes filled with compassion. "I didn't know that."

"It was a long time ago."

"Who did you live with after the divorce?

"Technically, my parents shared custody, but I mostly lived with my mom. Then she fell in love and got remarried and was happier for me to spend more time with my dad. When she had my half-sister, she really had no room in her house for me, so whenever my father was in town, I was with him. But then he died, and I was back with her and her second family." He let out a breath, irritated with himself for telling Kate so much, because he'd only ignited more questions.

"How old is your sister now?" she asked.

"Jordan is twenty. She's a junior at Sonoma State."

"Do you see her? Do you see your mom?"

"Not very often."

"When was the last time?"

"I don't know—Christmas a couple of years ago."

"You haven't seen them since you moved here, since you've been living like an hour away from them?"

"I'm not part of their lives."

"That's ridiculous. Your mom is always going to be your mom. She loves you. And I'm betting your sister does, too."

He shrugged. "It's all fine. We don't hate each other. We just don't see each other."

Her lips tightened. "If that's the case, it's not all fine."

"Hey, you've been in the city three days and haven't told your parents you're home."

"That's different. I'm working a job, and I will see them next week."

"Hand me a yearbook."

Her grip tightened on the books. "A couple more questions."

"Why? I just told you my life story."

"That was a headline, not a story, and I like to know who I'm working with."

"There's nothing more to tell. There's no big drama. I had parents; they divorced. I bounced around. We all moved on."

"No wonder you're so guarded. You locked down your emotions a long time ago, didn't you?"

"Kate, don't try to psychoanalyze me. You're nowhere near qualified."

"I have eyes and instinct, and I can see a man who has closed himself off. I thought it was just because of Sam—your guilt, your grief—but now I think the walls went up long before her death."

"You should put up some walls," he advised.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you're too vulnerable. It wouldn't be hard to hurt you."

She stared back at him with those questioning blue eyes, and he realized just how true his statement had been. "Are you warning me about you, Devin?"

"I'm warning you about life. You're open. You have a big heart. You like people. You believe in hope and truth and justice, and you have no idea how many times you're going to be disappointed in your life."

"I've been disappointed before," she said quietly. "But just because one person fails you doesn't mean everyone will. I choose to believe in the good in people. I'd rather live my life that way, than…"

"Like me?" he finished.

"Maybe you're too afraid of getting hurt, Devin. You block everything out. The bad stuff stays on the other side of the wall, but so does the good stuff. Do you ever let anyone in?"

"I've let people in."

"And…"

"Nothing."

She tilted her head and gave him a pointed look. "Really? That's all you're going to give me?"

"I've given you way too much already. We're on a case, Kate. Let's get back to work."

"You can be so frustrating."

"Right back at you. Now give me a yearbook."

"Fine. Which year do you want? Freshman or sophomore?"

"Whatever is on top."

"That would be Rick's freshman year." She slid the book across the table.

He flipped through the pages to the freshman class photos. Sure enough, a younger version of Rick Baines stared back at him. His hair was long and stringy, his eyes kind of dull, his expression rather bored. "Baines definitely went to school at St. Bernadette's."

"I've got him, too," Kate said, turning around her yearbook to show him the class photo from a year later.

"He cut his hair between freshman and sophomore year," he commented. "Otherwise, he looks pretty much the same." He moved slowly through the list of names in the class. "I've got Alan Jenkins, blond, good-looking, and much happier than Baines."

"I see him as well. He looks like a jock. Who else are we looking for?"

"Let's see if we can find any photos with Baines or Jenkins connected to each other and/or other students. We need to create some links even if we don't know whether they go anywhere."

"Okay."

They moved through their books quietly for the next few minutes. It quickly became clear that while Baines didn't seek the camera, Jenkins did. He was on the football team and the homecoming court and involved in student government. He was photographed with numerous pretty girls at many school events. But there was never a photo of him and Baines together…until the spring of freshman year.

"Baines was on the baseball team with Jenkins," he said. As he stared at the page full of shots from baseball season, he lost his focus for a minute. He wasn't seeing those kids anymore, but himself.

Baseball had been his escape from divorce and death. When he'd been swinging a bat or chasing down a ball at shortstop, he hadn't had time to think about anything but winning. And those games, those sometimes long, endless games, had been the only time where he'd felt normal, happy… until he looked up in the stands and realized no one was there for him.

He shook his head, silently damning Kate for bringing up all the old memories with her probing questions. The last thing he wanted to do right now was think about his past.

"Baines must have quit after freshman year. He's not on the team in my book," Kate said.