Page 26 of Burning Justice

Ahh.

“A therapy dog helped me through a tough time when I was a kid. When I left the Marines, I decided to work with fires and dogs. The ATF canine unit seemed like a natural fit. I had to put my time in as an agent and get certified as a CFI. Then I got partnered with Blaze. He’s the ATF’s only arson dog in the country. The rest of the agency’s dogs are explosives-detecting K-9s.”

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“There’s usually at least one arson K-9 in every district, so the ATF doesn’t want to spend budget money on duplicate resources. All it took was for one major arson investigation in the state to pop up when the local arson K-9 team was unavailable. The governor of Colorado pushed to have an ATF arson K-9 team available here twenty-four seven. Blaze and I are it.”

“Interesting.” But there was one thing he hadn’t talked about. “Why did you go into the Marines?”

A dark shadow fell across his face. She likened it to someone yanking down a curtain. He’d shut down on her. Clearly, there was a story behind why he’d joined up. Even more clear was that he wasn’t about to discuss it.

“It seemed like the thing to do at the time.” He cleared his throat, and she understood the message: personal interrogation of his life was over. “Your turn,” he said. “What made your family move here from Brooklyn, and why the NICB?”

“My dad wanted fresh air, wide, open spaces, and above all else better trout fishing.” The first of what was to become a long list of her tomboy activities. “Mom wanted safer schools for me and my brothers.”

“Understandable. All parents want the best for their kids.” Brett looked past her. “It’s obvious they love you and your brothers.”

She followed his gaze to where her mother and father had their heads together, watching them. “They can be meddlesome, but yeah. They do. And they still love to tell everyone we’ll always be New Yawkers and diehard Yankees fans.”

“Coloradoans and the Rockies won’t hold that against you.” Brett smiled.

Her mom brought over their bagels and two strips of crispy bacon on the side. “Here you go. Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thanks, Mrs. S.”

When her mother had scurried off, they dug into their warm, toasted bagels.

“Still the best bagels in the state,” Brett said between chews. “And the NICB?”

Gemma swallowed and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I started out as an investigator for an insurance company. When I was sixteen, my best friend’s house caught fire. No one was hurt, but there was a fair amount of damage. My friend’s dad’s high-end electric guitar was burned to a crisp. The insurance company didn’t want to make good on the rider, said they couldn’t verify the guitar’s condition. Luckily, the week before the fire, I’d snapped a shot of my friend breaking her dad’s house rules by goofing around with the guitar. The date stamp on the photo was proof, and the insurance company was forced to pay out. From that point on, I was hooked.”

“How long did you work for the insurance company?” Brett took another bite of his bagel.

“Five years. But I wanted to dig deeper into hardcore insurance fraud, so I applied to the NICB. Took me four separate applications before they hired me. Ninety percent of the people hired for those spots are retired federal agents and mostly men.”

“You feel as if you have to work harder. That you have something to prove?”

“Kind of.” Actually, he’d nailed that sore spot on the swollen head. Since the moment she’d been hired, she had felt like she had to keep proving herself again and again. After getting her case stolen, that feeling had amplified exponentially.

Weird how he’d easily intuited that.

Brett tapped one long finger on the side of his coffee cup. “Guess everyone has something in their past that makes them who and what they are today.”

The same dark curtain lowered over his face, again leaving Gemma with the distinct impression there was more to his story than he’d let on. A lot more.

Above Brett’s head, the TV screen showed two side-by-side images of fire departments battling house fires. Captions beneath each image indicated one fire was in Leadville and the other in Burlington.

Below the fire images, Mimi LaSalle, Denver7’s anchorwoman, declared, “Yesterday, fire departments in Lake County and Kit Carson County were battling two separate house fires.”

Gemma squeezed what was left of her bagel so tightly a blob of cream cheese fell to the plate. Brett’s head whipped around to face the TV.

“Luckily,” Mimi continued, “both houses were empty at the time. The cause of the fires isn’t yet known. Unfortunately, for the owners, both structures are a total loss.”

“Two more houses,” Gemma said, her eyes still glued to the TV as she watched fire personnel battle the blaze.

When Brett turned around, his face was hard, a muscle ticking in his sculpted jaw. “Lake County and Kit Carson County are more than four hours from each other. We might have to take a road trip.”