'After you found him, what happened next?'
'Called my captain. He called the state fire marshal. They sent the arson investigator assigned to our region. He's a good guy. Name's Ben Mitchell.'
'And he called the coroner.'
'Yup.' He nodded. 'Parish coroner. Coroner called Buddy.'
'That's how it works?'
He shuffled slightly. 'Yeah. Our job's elimination and containment of the fire itself, as well as search and rescue. Once our job's done, we call the state fire marshal. He determines how the fire started.'
'And calls the coroner?'
'Yes. If there are victims. He calls the PD. Chain of command.'
She felt herself emotionally disengaging, slipping into the role of journalist. It was an automatic thing, like breathing. She found it comforting. 'And my father was dead when you got there?'
'No doubt about that. He-' The man bit back what he was about to say.
'What?'
'He was dead, Ms. Chauvin. Absolutely.'
She shut her eyes, working to recall what she knew of death by burning. The arson piece she'd done. Those two little victims; she had seen a picture. Charred cadavers. Entirely black. Generic fea-
'Avery? Are you okay?'
At Matt's voice, she opened her eyes. He stood in the doorway, Cherry hovering just behind him.
'Fine.' As she said the word, she realized she felt a hundred percent better than when she'd stepped outside.
'People are looking for you.'
She nodded and turned back to the fireman. 'John, I'd like to talk to you more about this. Could I give you a call, set up something?'
He shifted his gaze, obviously uncomfortable. 'Sure, but I don't know what I could tell you that would-'
'Just for me,' she said quickly. 'For closure.'
'I guess. You can reach me through the dispatcher.'
She thanked him, turned and crossed to where Matt and Cherry waited.
'Ms. Chauvin?' She stopped and glanced back at the fireman. 'You might want to call Ben Mitchell, at the state fire marshal's office in Baton Rouge. He could tell you a lot more than I can.'
'Thanks, John. I'll do that.'
'What was that all about?' Cherry asked.
'Nothing. I needed some air.'
Cherry frowned slightly and glanced over her shoulder, obviously annoyed with her answer. 'Jill Landry married him. You remember Jill? Met him through her sister, in Jackson.'
'He seems like a nice guy.'
'I guess.'
Avery stopped and looked at the other woman. 'Are you trying to tell me something, Cherry?'
'No. I just thought you should know…he's not from around here, Avery.'
'He found Dad,' she said sharply. 'I was asking him about it. Is that okay with you?'
'I didn't mean anything-' She glanced from Avery to her brother, expression wounded. 'I just…I'm worried about you, that's all.'
'I'm a big girl, Cherry. I don't need protecting.'
'I see that.' Color flooded her cheeks. 'I won't make that mistake again. Excuse me.'
'She was only trying to be your friend,' Matt said softly, tone reproachful. 'She cares about you. We all do.'
Avery swore softly. 'I know. I just reacted.'
Matt laid a hand on her arm. 'I understand. Just don't-' He paused. 'What?'
'You're hurting. I'm sympathetic to that. We all are. But don't push us away, Avery. We love you.'
She swallowed hard, eyes burning. He was right. Alienating the people who cared about her would do nothing but leave her more alone than she already was.
She caught his hand, squeezed his fingers. 'Thank you,' she whispered. 'Your friendship means more to me than I can say.'
He curled his fingers around hers. 'I'm here for you, Avery. I've always been here for you.'
The moment was broken by three older women. Members of her mother's quilting group, she learned.
Matt greeted the women, then excused himself. She watched as he made his way through the crowded room, heading in the direction Cherry had gone. He meant to find and comfort his sister.
She would apologize later, Avery promised herself, turning back to the three, accepting their condolences. The Quilting Bees, as they called themselves, exited, leaving Avery momentarily alone.
She swept her gaze over the gathering, stopping on a group of men who stood at the far end of the room. They spoke to one another quietly, expressions intent. She recognized several of them; though by face not name. None had spoken to her tonight. As she watched, one of them nodded toward someone outside their circle. The others glanced in the direction he indicated.
She turned. They seemed to be discussing a woman she didn't recognize. Tall, slim and sandy-haired, she wore a simple black skirt and white, button-front blouse. She was alone, standing by a tall, potted fern. Something about her expression looked lost.
Avery frowned and shifted her gaze back to the men. They were definitely looking at the woman. One of them laughed. She didn't know why that struck her as wrong, but it did.
She darted another glance at the woman. Who was she? A friend of one of the men?
'Avery, honey, I'm so sorry.'
She dragged her gaze from the group, meeting the eyes of the woman who had been Avery's first-grade teacher. She accepted the woman's condolences, hug and promised to call if she needed anything.
Avery turned back toward the group of men. They had dispersed. The woman they'd been talking about was gone as well. She checked out the thinning crowd, searching for her without luck. She wondered if she had imagined the whole thing.
It wouldn't surprise her, she acknowledged, glancing toward her father's closed casket and experiencing a moment of pure panic. Nothing would surprise her anymore.
CHAPTER 12
Hunter stared at his computer screen, the things he'd written swimming before his eyes. Mocking him. With a sound of disgust he hit the delete button and watched as the cursor ate one letter after another until nothing was left but the blank page.
How could he write when the words filling his head were ones he had flung at Avery? How could he envision his characters when her image crowded his mind? Her hurt expression. The accusation in her eyes.
She had looked at him as if he were some sort of monster.
Dammit! Hunter pushed away from the desk and stood. At the kitchen door, Sarah whined to go out. The dog had been antsy and agitated all evening-much as he himself had been.
He ignored her and made his way through the apartment and to the office in front. Empty, dark save for the blinking message light on his answer machine, he recalled the space as it had been: filled with the scent and color of flowers. Now it smelled as colorless as it looked. Like blank paper and law books.
He crossed to the front window and peered out at the dark street. From this vantage point he could see Gallagher's roof, one block over. They were all at Phillip's wake, he thought. His mother and father. Cherry. Matt. Most likely the entire town.
That's the kind of town this was.
He had figured Avery wouldn't care to see him. And he sure as hell hadn't wanted to see the Stevens clan. He wasn't certain he would have been able to hold his tongue.
