On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

had been a second home, and it saddened her to see that the fire had already engulfed at least two classrooms.
    The scene was similar to the fire last month at the local high school, another one of her old stomping grounds. Was it the beginning of a pattern? The high school fire had been smaller, and based on the sloppy ignition point of a gas can and some rags, they'd attributed the arson to vandals, most likely teenagers. The same person or persons could have set this fire, but it was too soon to make that conclusion. She needed to get inside, examine the point of origin, but she would have to wait until the incident commander deemed it safe enough to enter.
    She put on her gear and walked across the schoolyard. The commander on the scene was in fact her Uncle Tim.
    "What have we got?" she asked.
    "Still trying to figure that out. Two points of origin and a hell of a lot of accelerant," he said. "The building was empty except for the night janitor who was working in the other wing. He called it in. He's over there." Tim pointed to a middle-aged man standing by one of the trucks. "He doesn't speak much English."
    As she followed his gaze, her heart sank. The janitor was not alone. He was talking to Max Harrison, a homicide inspector with the police department. Max had transferred from Los Angeles three months earlier, and they'd butted heads while working together on a case that had included murder and arson. What was he doing here? From what her uncle had said, there was no one inside the building.
    Looking away from Harrison, she turned back to her uncle. "Can I go in?"
    "Not yet," Tim said sharply. "You wait for my order, Emma. I'm not in the mood for a rescue."
    "Would you say that to one of my brothers?" she challenged.
    "Hell yes," he said. "But the only one who would probably listen would be Burke."
    Tim moved away from her as he radioed orders to the firefighters inside the building. She could tell from the intensity of the flames and the color of the smoke that she wouldn't be getting inside for a while, so she headed across the yard to talk to the witness.
    Max's gaze met hers as she crossed the playground, and she felt her stomach clench. Every time she was around him, she felt unsettled, and she didn't like it. Since her last romantic break-up, she'd sworn off men for at least a year. She didn't need the complication of love or lust in her life, and she reluctantly had to admit that Max inspired a fair amount of lust. He was in his mid-thirties with blondish-brown hair and sharp green eyes. There was a confidence to him that reminded her of her brothers and probably at least half the men she worked with, which was why she should not let him rattle her. She was used to cocky, arrogant, know-it-alls, who didn't trust her skills. She'd prove him wrong the way she'd proved the rest of them wrong. And she was not going to sleep with him, she reminded herself.
    "Callaway," he said as she joined them.
    "Harrison," she returned on a cool note. "What are you doing here? I don't see any bodies."
    "Not yet anyway."
    "My uncle said the building is clear."
    "Your uncle?" he echoed, then shook his head. "How many Callaways are there in the fire department?"
    "Enough to make it run extremely well," she retorted.
    He gave her a half smile. "That's not what I've heard."
    She wanted to ask him what he'd heard, but she knew when she was being baited, and she decided to take the high road. She turned to the witness. "What is your name, sir?"
    "Freddie Juarez," the man said.
    "You reported the fire?"
    "Yes," he replied. "The fire—it is very big."
    As he gazed at the fire, he seemed to be almost in a trance, struck dumb by the intensity of the heat.
    She wondered if he was more than just a witness. It wouldn't be the first time someone had torched their place of employment and stuck around to watch their handiwork.
    "Can you tell me when you first realized there was a fire?" she asked, drawing his attention back to her.
    "Smoke. I started coughing. Then I looked out the window and saw the flames. I ran outside and called for help."
    "Did you see anyone or hear anything?"
    He shook his head. "I was working and listening to music," he said, holding up his earphones.
    Before she could ask him another question, a woman and a young girl ran up to them, throwing their arms around Freddie.
    She stepped back as the three began speaking to each other in very excited Spanish and turned to Max. "Did he tell you anything