really not so hard to find, you know."
Blue eyes shifted towards Scott. As before she found a bit of strength. "It's yours, man, it means nothing to me," she promised into the cell. "It will be at your restaurant by 11 tonight."
"Smart girl, Tess," G.J. hissed.
The constant abbreviating of her name was wearing on Tessa but she didn't correct him. She'd play the part; she knew the right things to say. "Tell your brother…welcome back."
The bold-faced lie burned sour on her tongue. Snapping the phone closed, she swallowed hard and her full lips tensed. For a long moment Tessa sat motionless, staring off into space; her thoughts brought no peace. And the game continues.
If that's the way it had to be, she'd play. She owed it to Darla.
Chapter 7
Health and Safety
SMASH
Twice in one night, the sound of breaking glass caused Tessa to jump. G.J.'s claim, that she wouldn't be hard to find, was as clear as the green beer bottle with its burning rag of kerosene. It rolled on the carpet of Scott's house, igniting the drapes in a burst of heat.
Both reporters leapt to their feet.
"Kitchen," Scott ordered, perhaps understanding they shouldn't use the front door. No telling what might be waiting outside.
Tessa grabbed the Bible and notepad before Scott took her wrist and pulled her toward the exit. Phone still in hand, she was dialing 9-1-1 as Scott pushed open the sliding glass door. He sprinted out into the courtyard and headed to the fence. Hearing the squealing tires, he took a few good jumps, his blond head bobbing above the barrier, trying to catch a glimpse of the street.
The avenue was now empty. "Damn it," he shouted, running back towards the townhouse.
Standing in the cold night air, Tessa barely had time to say, "Where are you…?" before he brushed past her, disappearing back inside.
Dealing with the emergency operator, she waited for Scott. Her heart was beating hard; ticking off each second. He finally emerged, carrying a black leather laptop case. Maybe he'd saved a few small mementos as well, but he didn't offer that information as he came to stand beside her.
Tessa hung up the phone. "Fire department is on its way."
Together they warned the neighbors, but the sound of sirens came faster than she thought possible. Within minutes, two fire trucks and the police were busy with their flashing lights, hoses, and questions.
Scott had so little furniture in the front room that the fire appeared to have confined itself to the window and front wall, and yet the two reporters weren't allowed back in, right away. The fire crew urged everyone to cross to the other side of the street, and sent one of their own in to secure the premises.
The two stood stiff, like toy soldiers, each alone with their own thoughts. "Just remember, it was your idea to stick together," she mumbled.
He nodded, looking at the wreckage. "In a way, it's almost satisfying. Now I know I'm on the right track." He patted the side of the computer bag as he spoke; an absent-minded touch, like a father burping a child.
Scott's tone was unemotional, but it didn't make Tessa feel any better. She debated offering some sort of apology. "Before I hung up, G.J. warned me…."
A man in a raincoat seemed to pick Scott out of the onlookers. He didn't appear in a hurry as he walked over, but his dark eyes were intense; his expression almost daring them to move before he stood alongside them. Tessa kept the rest of her phone conversation recap to herself, reluctant to be overheard by the newcomer.
Scott pasted on his cocky grin. "Ah, Detective Blaine. In the neighborhood, were you?"
Nodding towards the smoldering townhouse, the policeman said, "I see you've been busy making friends, Mr. Crawford."
"What can I say?" Scott replied with a casual shrug.
"I would have hoped for some sort of theory."
"Well, you already know how much Barton Malone loves me."
The detective laughed. "This doesn't feel like
Blue eyes shifted towards Scott. As before she found a bit of strength. "It's yours, man, it means nothing to me," she promised into the cell. "It will be at your restaurant by 11 tonight."
"Smart girl, Tess," G.J. hissed.
The constant abbreviating of her name was wearing on Tessa but she didn't correct him. She'd play the part; she knew the right things to say. "Tell your brother…welcome back."
The bold-faced lie burned sour on her tongue. Snapping the phone closed, she swallowed hard and her full lips tensed. For a long moment Tessa sat motionless, staring off into space; her thoughts brought no peace. And the game continues.
If that's the way it had to be, she'd play. She owed it to Darla.
Chapter 7
Health and Safety
SMASH
Twice in one night, the sound of breaking glass caused Tessa to jump. G.J.'s claim, that she wouldn't be hard to find, was as clear as the green beer bottle with its burning rag of kerosene. It rolled on the carpet of Scott's house, igniting the drapes in a burst of heat.
Both reporters leapt to their feet.
"Kitchen," Scott ordered, perhaps understanding they shouldn't use the front door. No telling what might be waiting outside.
Tessa grabbed the Bible and notepad before Scott took her wrist and pulled her toward the exit. Phone still in hand, she was dialing 9-1-1 as Scott pushed open the sliding glass door. He sprinted out into the courtyard and headed to the fence. Hearing the squealing tires, he took a few good jumps, his blond head bobbing above the barrier, trying to catch a glimpse of the street.
The avenue was now empty. "Damn it," he shouted, running back towards the townhouse.
Standing in the cold night air, Tessa barely had time to say, "Where are you…?" before he brushed past her, disappearing back inside.
Dealing with the emergency operator, she waited for Scott. Her heart was beating hard; ticking off each second. He finally emerged, carrying a black leather laptop case. Maybe he'd saved a few small mementos as well, but he didn't offer that information as he came to stand beside her.
Tessa hung up the phone. "Fire department is on its way."
Together they warned the neighbors, but the sound of sirens came faster than she thought possible. Within minutes, two fire trucks and the police were busy with their flashing lights, hoses, and questions.
Scott had so little furniture in the front room that the fire appeared to have confined itself to the window and front wall, and yet the two reporters weren't allowed back in, right away. The fire crew urged everyone to cross to the other side of the street, and sent one of their own in to secure the premises.
The two stood stiff, like toy soldiers, each alone with their own thoughts. "Just remember, it was your idea to stick together," she mumbled.
He nodded, looking at the wreckage. "In a way, it's almost satisfying. Now I know I'm on the right track." He patted the side of the computer bag as he spoke; an absent-minded touch, like a father burping a child.
Scott's tone was unemotional, but it didn't make Tessa feel any better. She debated offering some sort of apology. "Before I hung up, G.J. warned me…."
A man in a raincoat seemed to pick Scott out of the onlookers. He didn't appear in a hurry as he walked over, but his dark eyes were intense; his expression almost daring them to move before he stood alongside them. Tessa kept the rest of her phone conversation recap to herself, reluctant to be overheard by the newcomer.
Scott pasted on his cocky grin. "Ah, Detective Blaine. In the neighborhood, were you?"
Nodding towards the smoldering townhouse, the policeman said, "I see you've been busy making friends, Mr. Crawford."
"What can I say?" Scott replied with a casual shrug.
"I would have hoped for some sort of theory."
"Well, you already know how much Barton Malone loves me."
The detective laughed. "This doesn't feel like
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