Fireproof

your ordinary under-the-sink solutions or swimming pool cleaners.”
    Both men laughed while Sam sipped her beer. The only arsonist on the list had been Otis P. Dodd, and Jeffery hadn’t asked him a single question about his arson adventures. But then she remembered that Jeffery had received detailed letters from Otis P. long before they met with him.
    A man appeared at their table.
    “Wes, what the hell are you doing here?”
    Sam almost didn’t recognize Patrick Murphy. In jeans, a black turtleneck, and a leather jacket, he looked like he’d stepped off the cover of GQ . Even as he addressed Harper, his eyes found and settled on Sam’s as though he were really asking what she was doing here.
    Jeffery obviously didn’t recognize Patrick at all. His first response was to be perturbed, and he played the role well. He pushed back his chair with an impatient sigh. He didn’t like sharing the limelight.
    “You know what, guys?” Sam announced. “I’ve got to go. Jeffery, thanks for the drink. You boys enjoy dinner.”
    She slid her bag onto her shoulder before Harper or Jeffery noticed.
    “Yes, hug that boy of yours,” Jeffery said, looking around for the waiter.
    Just when Harper looked like he might protest Sam’s leaving, the waiter brought more drinks, giving him what looked to be a difficult choice.
    “I’ll walk you out,” Patrick said quietly, setting her pulse up a notch and making her wonder if staying may have been safer.
    As she stood and tried to ignore Patrick’s eyes, she glanced up at one of the televisions over the bar. Something, or rather someone, on the screen caught her eye. Peter Sanders, a network news reporter and someone Jeffery considered his competition, was doing a live broadcast from the middle of some dark wooded area.
    The sound was turned down but there were closed captions running along the bottom of the screen, and as Sam started reading them she felt her stomach slide to her knees.
    Jeffery glanced up to see what had captured her attention. He did a double take and then he got quiet and stared at the screen.
    They watched while Peter Sanders directed his camera technician. The picture focused in on a culvert under an old dirt road and the three people hunched over—two men and one woman—with the white letters “CSI” on their jackets. Floodlights had been set up, casting shadows. Sam didn’t need to see beyond them. She didn’t need to see anything more. She couldn’t take her eyes off the swatch of orange peeking out from under the leaves and mud.
    “That son of a bitch,” Jeffery said under his breath as he stared up at the television. “He was actually telling the truth.”

CHAPTER 51

    “What was that about?” Patrick asked Sam as they stepped outside onto the sidewalk.
    “The prison documentary Jeffery and I have been working on. Yesterday one of the guys told us he knew where there was a body.”
    Her eyes left his, wandered away. He could tell this was unsettling for her, but she wasn’t willing to share that part. He knew Sam Ramirez was the type of woman who didn’t reveal her feelings or her vulnerabilities.
    “He said it was a young woman. That the killer left her in a culvert. He said the guy didn’t take off her orange socks.”
    “How did he know so much? Was he there?”
    “He claims the guy told him after a couple of whiskeys in a bar one night.”
    “Wow. Interviewing murderers. Your job is more dangerous than mine.”
    She finally smiled.
    He walked alongside her as she led the way to her parked car.
    “I just wanted to tell you I appreciate what you did at the fire site.”
    “I didn’t do anything.”
    “You backed me out of what could have been an embarrassing interview.”
    “I think you would have handled yourself just fine.”
    “For a minute back there I thought you were with Wes.”
    “So what if I was?”
    He heard a slight bit of irritation in her voice, and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Wes Harper hadn’t decided he wanted Sam more than he wanted the expensive vodka. Patrick tried to remember if he had told Harper anything he’d regret, anything Harper would tell Jeffery Cole.
    They hadn’t partnered up by choice. Braxton Protection Agency assigned teammates. Patrick didn’t trust Wes Harper from day one. Turned out his instincts had been correct. Last job, Harper couldn’t wait to rat him out.
    Finally he looked back at Sam, standing in front of him, tapping her foot, waiting for a