Chasing Fire

shed a tear over that, but at the bottom of it, I just want her out of our hair, once and for all.”
    “Nobody can argue with that. Whoever did that to the ready room has some serious problems.”
    “Look, you’ve had a few weeks’ exposure to Dolly. I’ve had a lifetime, and I’m finished having her problems become mine.”
    “Nobody can argue with that, either.” He cupped a hand at the back of her neck, catching her off-guard with the kiss. “Let’s see if we can squeeze in a run later. I could use one.”
    “Will you stop trying to settle me down?”
    “No, because you probably don’t want to talk to a cop when you’re pissed off enough to bite out his throat if he happens to push the wrong button.”
    He took her shoulders, got a good grip. And, she noted, his eyes weren’t so calm, weren’t so patient. “You’re smart. Be smart. The ready room wasn’t a personal attack on you; it was a sucker punch at all of us. Remember that.”
    “She’s—”
    “She’s nothing. Make her nothing, and focus on what’s important. Give the cop what he needs, go back to work on fixing the damage. After that, take a run with me.”
    He kissed her again, quick and hard, then walked away.
    “Take a run. I’ll give you a run,” she muttered. She veered off toward L.B.’s office, and realized Gull unsettled her nearly as much as Dolly’s sudden bent for violence.
    Lieutenant Quinniock sat at L.B.’s overburdened desk with a mug of coffee and a notebook. Black-framed cheaters perched on the end of his long, bladed nose while eyes of faded-denim blue peered over them. A small scar rode high on his right cheek, a pale fishhook against the ruddiness. And like a scar, a shock of white, like a lightning bolt blurred at the edges, shot through his salt-and-pepper hair between the left temple and the crown.
    She’d seen him before, Rowan realized—in a bar or a shop—somewhere. His wasn’t a face easily overlooked.
    He wore a dark, subtly pin-striped suit like an executive—pressed and tailored, with a perfectly knotted tie of flashy red.
    The suit didn’t go with the face, she thought, and wondered if the contrast was deliberate.
    He stood when she came into the room. “Ms. Tripp?”
    “Yeah. Rowan Tripp.”
    “I appreciate you taking a few minutes. I know it’s a stressful day. Would you mind closing the door?”
    The voice, she decided, mild, polite, engaging, fit the suit.
    “Have a seat,” he told her. “I have a few questions.”
    “Okay.”
    “I’ve met your father. I imagine most around these parts have at some time or other. You’re following in big footprints, and I’m told you’re doing a good job of filling them.”
    “Thanks.”
    “So . . . you and a Miss Dolly Brakeman had an altercation a few days ago.”
    “You could call it that.”
    “What would you call it?”
    She wanted to rage, to jab a finger in the middle of that flashy tie. Be smart, Gull had said—and damn it, he was right.
    So she ordered herself to relax in the chair and speak coolly. “Let’s see, I call it trespassing, vandalism, defacing private property and generally being a crazy bitch. But that’s just me.”
    “Apparently not just you, as others I’ve spoken with share that point of view. You discovered Miss Brakeman in your quarters here on base in the act of pouring animal blood on your bed. Is that correct?”
    “It is. And that would be after she’d poured it, tossed it, splattered it over the walls, the floor, my clothes and other assorted items. After she wrote on my wall with it. ‘Burn in hell,’ to be precise.”
    “Yes, I’ve got the photographs of the damage Mr. Little Bear took before the area was cleaned and repainted.”
    “Oh.” That set her back a moment. She hadn’t realized L.B. had documented with photos. Should have figured he would, she thought now. That’s why he was in charge.
    “And what happened when you found her in your quarters?”
    “What? Oh, I tried to kick her ass, but several of my colleagues stopped me. Which, given the current situation, is even more of a damn shame.”
    “You didn’t notify the police.”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “Partially because I was too pissed off, and partially because she got fired and kicked off the base. That seemed enough, considering.”
    “Considering?”
    “Considering, at that time, I figured she was just sublimely stupid, that her stupidity was aimed solely at me—and she’s got a baby. Plus, within an hour we