Page 104 of Burning Justice

She scooted along the floor so Rory could continue punching nails into the baseboard.

“Have you seen him lately?” her dad asked.

“Him” could only be one person. Brett. She shook her head. “No, but it’s okay. He just wasn’t the one. Sorry, Dad.”

He paused with his hand on the chop saw. “I don’t understand how we could have been so wrong about him. Your mother and I were certain he’d be a good fit for you.”

Emptiness and resignation filled her heart.

Bonnie’s words of wisdom may have been spot on, but it didn’t matter. Even if he’d stolen her case files and shut her out of the investigation because he cared for her, Brett’s survivor’s guilt and PTSD were still calling the shots in his life.

Given the complexity of the investigation, she’d understood perfectly when she hadn’t heard from him a day or two after the hangar fire. Though Kelly Hawkin was dead, what Gemma had been hoping was that since Brett finally had proof Kelly was behind the Torrance Lane fire, he could move on with his life. But then two days turned into three, then three into four, and by the time a full week had passed, she’d given up all hope of seeing him again.

“I can finish this, Gem.” Rory glanced at her legs. “You should get off your feet.”

“Thanks.” She climbed the stairs to her brand-new attic office.

Her dad and brothers had taken apart her worktable, hauled it to the attic, then set it back up for her. A fresh coat of creamy yellow paint brightened the small space, as did the new ceiling light fixture, but it could never take the place of natural lighting.

She sat at the table and stared at the triangular-shaped section of wall beneath the house’s front dormer. That was where the special-order eyebrow window would have gone. If only she could afford it.

If only it didn’t cost five thousand dollars.

She flipped open her laptop. A few days after getting out of the hospital, Tom Willard had stopped by to interview her about the events at the hangar and to return her laptop. She’d given consent for the ATF to copy all the relevant files. Tom had been fairly tight-lipped about the investigation, saying only that the U.S. Attorney’s Office was still reviewing evidence but was inordinately pleased and had complimented Gemma on her thoroughness and especially for her little chat with Sally Nash.

Gemma had also been visited by her bosses from the NICB’s main office. Other agents from around the country had sent flowers and get-well emails. Gemma hadn’t expected that. Maybe she ought to give them another chance.

Speaking of other chances, her parents had already begun screening new deli customers for her next prospective date. Deli dating was something she had no intention of living through again. If she ever dove back into the dating pool again, she’d be the one in charge. Not her parents. Though she knew they meant well. They wanted her to have the same once-in-a-lifetime kind of love they’d found.

She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling.

What if Brett Tanner was her once-in-a-lifetime love? And what if that was all some people got? One love. And when it was gone, that was it. Game over.

At least she still had her job. Maybe that would be enough to make her happy in life.

The moment she’d thought those last words, her gut squeezed with undeniable sadness, because…what if it wasn’t?

…

Evan was waiting for Brett when he pulled up to the Pine Springs Mental Health Treatment Center. The facility Brett had started going to a week ago for his PTSD issues wasn’t nearly as nice, but the shrink who’d been dissecting his brain wasn’t half bad.

In the passenger seat of the Audi parked next to Evan’s SUV, a young woman in the front passenger seat ran a hand down her long brown hair. Evan had been successful in his quest. Brett could only hope he’d be successful in his own quest. For peace and sanity.

His determination to bring down Michael Hawkin had morphed into an ugly and twisted obsession, one that had begun ruling his head, to the detriment of everything else in his life. He hadn’t wanted Kelly Hawkin to die, but he had wanted to bring the Torrance Lane arsonist to justice. It had taken a shooting review board less than a day to clear Brett and his friends.

Lab results on the shell casings had confirmed David Hawkin’s gun had fired the rounds he’d collected from the Piggly’s Smokehouse parking lot and the oil field where Johnny Nash had been murdered. The U.S. Coast Guard lab had also fingerprinted and matched the oily mud from the same field to the mud left in the back of Trooper Sanchez’s patrol car. Sanchez had been only too happy to assist ATF agents in New Mexico in putting the habeas grabus on David Hawkin and locking him up.

As of a week ago, it was official. Michael and David Hawkin, along with Charles Pilcher, had been charged with an arson-for-profit conspiracy. Now that Kelly Hawkin was dead, none of them had any qualms about throwing her under the bus, and their stories were consistent.

Hawkin Construction had been in the red for some time. They could barely pay the mortgage on their own home, so Kelly came up with a way to make more money. She’d been the brains behind the entire scheme, fine-tuning the details with Pilcher, who’d lied about her involvement. Michael and David had been the ones to torch all the houses on Gemma’s list.

David was also charged with Nash’s murder and for attempting to kill Brett and Gemma. As it turned out, David Hawkin had moved to New Mexico so they could start burning down houses for profit there, as well.

Lastly, a handwriting expert had, indeed, confirmed Kelly Hawkin had written the note Johnny Nash asked his sister to hide for him. Knowing her husband would be a suspect, she’d arranged for Nash to burn down the house at the exact moment Michael was receiving an award from the Denver Chamber of Commerce. Michael hadn’t known his wife was behind it until months after the fact. That was why he’d been so convincing when the local police and the ATF interviewed him and he’d denied any involvement in the fire.

In the end, justice had been served, and it was turning out to be the first step in Brett’s healing process. The ATF ruling that Brett would keep his job also helped.

Thirty days on the beach without pay was his penance, which gave him ample time to get his personal affairs in order. Spilling his guts to a shrink again after all these years wasn’t something he wanted to do. It was more like a necessary evil. If there was any chance he could finally break free of the shitstorm in his head and convince Gemma that he was worthy of her, it had to be done.