“Faith, I want you to meet Special Agent Luke Justice. Agent, Faith Day.”
Special Agent Justice stood and held out his hand. “Luke,” he said in a smooth voice. He commanded the room with his large, muscular presence. When I got a closer look, I saw that his suit wasn’t so typical—it was made of a beautiful, rich fabric. And the pink giraffe tie was silk. “I hear you’re the station’s forensic photographer.”
I gave him my hand, and he squeezed it firmly while making eye contact with me. “I’m a forensic photographer, yes. I work on a contract basis.” I hated how Chief Reid was always telling people I worked for the station like I was an employee he owned. I was my own boss, and I preferred to make that clear.
I knew almost immediately that Special Agent Justice was the kind of man who could read you with a simple look—and he was giving me that look now. I made a mental note to stay clear of him.
“Faith, Special Agent Justice is here to help us on the Reynolds case.”
“Okay,” I said. Why was he telling me? I had nothing to do with the investigation other than taking the photos. And why was this a federal case? “You want me to make sure Special Agent Justice receives a copy of the photos?”
Instead of Chief answering, Luke said, “Miss Day, I’m investigating a string of fires.”
I eyed him. My palms began to sweat, and I resisted the urge to wipe them on my pants. “A string of fires,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
I looked to the chief and back to Luke. “You mean, like a serial arsonist?”
He shifted. “Possibly. However, serial arsonists typically take a cooling-off period between fires, and the fires in recent weeks have been rather close together. So I’m looking at a lot of possibilities.”
“And you think last night’s fire fits into the series you’re investigating.”
“Maybe.”
His one-word answer irritated me. “What do you need from me, Agent?”
“Are you aware that Ethan Gentry was released from prison less than three weeks ago?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
“He’s your brother, right?”
“Stepbrother.”
“Has he contacted you?”
“No.” Visions of my stepbrother—not what he looked like now, but how he looked, sounded, even smelled twelve years ago—poured into my head.
“I’m told you had an incident on your property a few nights ago.”
I glanced uneasily at Chief Reid, then back at the agent. “At three seventeen a.m. Sunday.”
I saw no reason to hide anything now—I’d already reported the incident. I thought of the daisies that had been left on my bed and of the fire in my fire pit. I also thought of the fire on my property this morning and the candles that were lit inside. I had no proof that Ethan had come into my trailer or set those fires, but it hadn’t escaped my imagination that he might reach out to me in some way.
Nor had he escaped the FBI’s radar, it would seem.
“Faith,” Chief said, shifting on his feet. Chief Reid was one of the people who had dismissed my incident report last week as either a cry for attention or a prank by some local kids. “Agent Justice is here to investigate the fire that happened last night. If you could—”
“I’ll give him a copy of every photograph I took and cooperate in any way I can.” I shifted my gaze to Luke. “If the two of you will excuse me, I’m expected in court.” I turned on my heel and exited Chief’s office before either of them could stop me.
I walked as naturally as I could manage toward the exit of the police station, but once I was outside, I ran. I took a hard left at the corner and sped down an alleyway that opened up into a parking lot behind the buildings. Spotting a dumpster, I ducked behind it and promptly threw up my breakfast of champions. The bourbon had sure felt better on the way down than it did coming back up.
This could not be happening. I would not let them bring Ethan back into my life. He was a part of my past, and I wanted to keep him there. I would not give Ethan any power in my life. And suddenly I felt certain it was Ethan who had been lighting fires and candles on my property. The next time he showed up, I’d be ready for him.
When I was sure I wouldn’t be sick again, I emerged from behind the dumpster, only to find a woman standing beside a news van nearby. She and a cameraman walked quickly toward me.
“Faith? Faith Day?”
I turned and walked away, not even acknowledging that she had the right person.
“Faith. It’s me, Marla Manfield.”
I paused. Turned slowly toward her. Her hair was as red and dark as chili powder, styled in a perfect and smooth bob. She wore dark rose lipstick and thick brown eyeshadow on lids decorated with even thicker fake eyelashes. Marla Manfield had graduated from Paynes Creek the same year as my brother Finch—four years before me. She’d been captain of the cheerleading squad, had dated the most popular football player, and had gotten out of two DUIs the year after graduation thanks to a father who was a golf buddy of the commonwealth’s attorney. There were perks to growing up popular and wealthy in Paynes Creek. Or there had been, back then. In recent years, the good ol’ boy system had suffered some cracks, and it was no longer nearly as easy to get a lesser punishment on a repeat DUI charge.
Not that Marla would need that kind of help now. She had cleaned up her act, becoming a news reporter for one of the local networks in Lexington, and from what I’d seen, she’d made her mark in sensationalist reporting. Always going after the difficult stories even if it meant embellishing the details.
I realized I was staring at her. She hadn’t spoken other than to announce her name in case I didn’t recognize her. But I did recognize her. I even remembered what she wore the one and only time she went out with Finch. My condition allowed me to remember the tiniest and most inconsequential of details, yet I couldn’t remember why they’d had only one date that summer after their sophomore year in college. I guess I never knew. Maybe Finch had already met Aubrey, his now wife? Regardless, I saw the two of them at a party that summer night. Mom and Eli—Ethan’s dad—had said that at sixteen, I was too young to go to a field party with my friends, but when Ethan offered to go with me, they said it was okay. The double standard had made me mad. Ethan was only sixteen then, too, yet they trusted him with my safety.
Hell, back then I trusted him too.
“I’d like to say you haven’t changed a bit, but look at you,” she said, giving me a once-over. “You’re beautiful. You always were pretty, but now you’re even more stunning.”
I angled my head and studied the way her eyeliner perfectly lined the lid and curved up at the edges. My hand went instinctively to my neck where I knew burn scars crept up toward my face. Was that really how she got people to talk to her? Pay them some empty compliment? I let my eyes drift to the videographer standing just over her right shoulder. He had the decency to look embarrassed. And he had yet to point his camera at me, or I wouldn’t still be standing there.
“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?” Marla asked.
“As a matter of fact,” I started, but then curiosity got the better of me. “About what?”