Chasing Fire

explore.”
    “Explore away. Be Magellan. I didn’t look for trouble with her. If I could’ve punched her on the infamous day of the blood of the pigs, I would have. And she’d have earned it. I think she should’ve been charged for what she did to our equipment, and spent some quality time in jail. I don’t think she should’ve died for either of those offenses. She was—”
    Rowan broke off as a truck roared in, fishtailing as it swerved in her direction. She grabbed DiCicco’s arm to yank her back even as DiCicco grabbed hers to do the same.
    The truck braked with a shriek, spewed up clouds of road dust.
    “Jesus Christ! What the hell are you . . .” She trailed off as she recognized the man leaping out of the truck as Leo Brakeman, Dolly’s father.
    “My daughter is dead.” He stood there, meaty hands balled into white-knuckled fists at his sides, his former All-State left tackle’s body quivering, his face—wide and hard—reddened.
    “Mr. Brakeman, I’m sorry for—”
    “You’re responsible. There’s nothing left of her but burned bones, and you’re responsible.”
    “Mr. Brakeman.” DiCicco stepped between Rowan and Brakeman, but Rowan shifted to the side, refusing the shield. “I explained to you that I and the full resources of my agency will do everything possible to identify your daughter’s killer. You need to go home, be with your wife and your granddaughter.”
    “You’ll just cover it up. You work for the same people. My daughter would be alive today if not for that one.” When he pointed his finger, Rowan felt the raging grief behind it stab like a blade.
    “She got Dolly fired because she couldn’t stand being reminded of how she let Jim Brayner die. She got her fired so Dolly had to drive all the way down to Florence to find work. If she didn’t kill my girl with her own hands, she’s the reason for it.
    “You think you’re so important?” he raged at Rowan. “You think you can ride on your father’s coattails, and because your name’s Tripp you can push people around? You were jealous of my girl, jealous because Jim tossed you over for her, and you couldn’t stand it. You let him die so she couldn’t have him.”
    “Leo.” L.B., with a wall of men behind him, moved forward. “I’m sorry about Dolly. Every one of us is sorry for your loss. But I’m going to ask you once to get off this property.”
    “Why don’t you fire her? Why don’t you kick her off this base like she was trash, the way you did my girl? Now my girl’s dead, and she’s standing there like it was nothing .”
    “This isn’t a good time for you to be here, Leo.” L.B. kept his voice low, quiet. “You need to go home and be with Irene.”
    “Don’t tell me what I need. There’s a baby needs her ma. And none of you give a damn about that. You’re going to pay for what happened to my Dolly. You’re going to pay dear, all of you.”
    He spat on the ground, slammed back into his truck. Rowan saw tears spilling down his cheeks as he spun the wheel and sped away.
    “Ro.”
    “Not now, L.B. Please.” She shook her head.
    “Now,” he corrected, and put an arm firm around her shoulders. “You come inside with me. Agent DiCicco, if you need to talk to Rowan, it’s going to be later.”
    DiCicco watched the wall of men close ranks like a barricade, then move into the building behind Rowan.
    Inside, L.B. steered her straight to his office, shut the door on the rest of the men. “Sit,” he ordered.
    When she did, he shoved his hands through his hair, leaned back on his desk. “You know Leo Brakeman’s a hard-ass under the best of circumstances.”
    “Yeah.”
    “And these are beyond shitty circumstances.”
    “I get it. It has to be somebody’s fault, and Dolly blamed me for everything else, so I’m the obvious choice. I get it. If she told him—people—I was doing the deed with Jim before he tossed me over, why wouldn’t her father think I had it out for his kid? And just to clarify, Jim and I were never—”
    “You think I don’t know you? I’ll be talking to DiCicco and setting her straight on that front.”
    Rowan shrugged. Oddly she’d felt her spine steel up again under Brakeman’s assault. “She’ll either believe it or she won’t. It doesn’t matter. I’m okay, or close to being okay. You don’t have time to babysit me, L.B., not with our crews out.
    “I’m sorry for Brakeman,” she said, “but that’s the last time he’ll use me as an