Fletcher Monroe and Madeline Gibson had been taken away in ambulances. An officer had accompanied Madeline, who was still unconscious when she was loaded into the vehicle. Monroe had begun to stir when he was secured to the stretcher. Jack had overheard him say something about cookies.
The firemen had beaten back the worst of the flames, but the house was still smoldering. There was a tangle of hoses on the lawn, a lot of flashing lights from the emergency vehicles and a great deal of water in the street. The neighbors had emerged and now stood around in small groups, watching the action.
“CSI will test the cookies, but it looks like Gibson was telling you the truth when she said she put some sleeping meds in them,” the officer said to Chloe. He checked his notes. “She waited until midnight and then came back to burn the house down around him.” He looked up. “Think she was intending suicide as well as murdering Monroe?”
“She wasn’t thinking clearly at all.” Chloe folded her arms tightly beneath her br**sts. “But, no, I don’t think she intended to die in the fire. She just wanted to make sure that no other woman would ever get Fletcher, I mean, Mr. Monroe.”
“You say she’s a student in one of his classes?”
“She was a student. Last quarter, I think. They dated, but when the quarter ended, so did the relationship. Then she started stalking Mr. Monroe. She got into a pattern of showing up here at midnight and leaving little presents on the front steps.”
The officer nodded. “Enough to give any man the creeps. Did Monroe get a restraining order?”
“No. He was hoping to avoid that because of the scandal it would cause at the college. I was supposed to get some incriminating pictures. He intended to use them to confront her. I told him it probably wouldn’t work, but he was convinced he could handle the situation if I got him the photos.”
“What made him think he could deal with her in a rational way?” the officer asked with a quizzical expression.
“Mr. Monroe is a psychologist.”
The officer grimaced. “Got it. Well, thanks very much, Miss Harper. Someone will be in touch about getting a statement. I’ll need your contact information.”
“I’ve got a card.” Chloe looked down as though she expected to find a card in one of the pockets of her trench coat. A confused expression crossed her face. “My cards are in my satchel. It’s in the trunk of my car.”
“I’ll get it,” Rose said. “Give me your keys, Chloe.”
“Keys.” Chloe reached into a pocket, withdrew a key chain and handed it to Rose.
Rose hurried off toward the small vehicle parked halfway down the street.
The officer examined Chloe with a thoughtful expression. “I recognize your name, Miss Harper. You consulted on the Anderson Point murders a year ago, didn’t you?”
Chloe glanced over her shoulder as if checking to see if Rose had found her car.
“I gave Detective Takahashi some information,” she said quietly. “He was able to use it to identify a suspect.”
“I know. That one was as cold as it gets. They say Takahashi worked it night and day. Kept the file under his desk, but it stayed cold until he caught a break with the information you gave him. I remember the hostage situation at the end. It was a real squeaker.”
“Yes.” Chloe’s voice was tight.
“They sent the crazy bastard to Winter Cove hospital. Luckily for everyone involved he found a way to hang himself. Saved the state a lot of money.”
Rose returned with a card. “You sure you’re okay, boss?” She examined Chloe from head to foot again. “You didn’t get singed or anything?”
“I’m fine,” Chloe said. She handed the card to the officer and waited until he had moved off to talk to some people who were getting out of a CSI van. She looked first at Rose and then at Jack. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad to see you both, but what are you two doing here, anyway?”
“You heard what Mr. Winters told the cop,” Rose said. “He was worried about you being out here alone on a stakeout.”
“I know what you told the officer, Mr. Winters.” Chloe’s frown darkened. “But how did you find out that I was working tonight?”
“I called Rose with some questions,” Jack said. “She told me you were out here on your own.”
“You called my office in the middle of the night?” Disbelief tightened her soot-streaked face. “And the two of you just decided to come racing over here to see if I was okay?”
“Chloe,” Rose said quietly. “Mr. Winters had a feeling, okay? So did I. How often have you told me to pay attention to intuition?”
“Sorry.” Chloe rubbed her forehead. “I’m not complaining. I just don’t understand what made you think that something was wrong.”
“I’ve got a lot invested in you.” Jack took her arm. “You’re starting to shiver.”
“It’s cold out here.”
“It’s the adrenaline,” he said. “Makes you jittery. You need to sit down.”
“Actually, I think I need a drink,” Chloe said.
“That, too. I’ll drive you home.”
“I’ve got my car,” Chloe said.
She probably didn’t even want to be in the same car with him now, not after the way he had burned her.
Rose snorted. “Like you’re in any condition to drive, boss. You’ve had one heck of a close call. Mr. Winters is right. Let him drive you back to the office. I’ll take care of your car.”
Chloe looked mutinous for a few seconds, but she finally abandoned the battle.
“Okay,” she said.
He bundled her into the front seat, then went around to the driver’s side. He peeled off his leather jacket, which now smelled of smoke, and tossed it onto the floor of the backseat. He got in beside her.
When he closed the door the small space was suddenly infused with a startling sense of intense intimacy. He was very conscious of Chloe sitting so close. She smelled of smoke and woman and the aftereffects of adrenaline. She had been in the red zone, running wide open, when he went through the doorway. He had sensed it immediately. He, too, had been cranked to the max. Now they were both enveloped in the rush of the after-burn. He realized he was fully aroused, every muscle in his body hard and tight.
He’d heard rumors about the erotic heat that could be generated by two strong talents who were sexually attracted to each other. He’d encountered more than one powerful female talent over the years and felt a certain pleasant stirring of his senses. But he’d never been slammed into overdrive like this. Get a grip, man.