Page 30 of Burning Justice

Attaboy. Blaze was an awesome therapy dog.

Now for the difficult questions. “By my count, you set at least a dozen dumpsters on fire over the last few months. Why?”

Based on what the public defender had revealed from the pretrial services report, Brett had a pretty good idea why, but he needed to hear it—all of it—if there was any chance he’d consent to being part of the defense’s plan.

“I don’t know.” Gavin stared at the box of tissues, his hand continually stroking Blaze’s ears, which were getting a helluva workout today.

“Gavin,” Manning interjected, “you need to be completely honest with these people or they can’t help you when you go before the judge. Remember? We discussed this. You need to tell them everything you already told me.”

“I know this must be hard for you,” Gemma said. “Talking about it might help.”

“I just—” He broke off and took a deep breath. “I just wanted someone to see me. To hear me. To know that I was there and needed—” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed repeatedly.

“Needed help?” Gemma asked softly.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But it was too late. Nobody would help me. Nobody would listen. Even if they did, they wouldn’t believe me.”

Now they were getting to the heart of the matter, and Gavin’s explanation had become a jumble of what the kid must be feeling now and what he’d endured as a teenager.

“You’re talking about your father,” Brett said.

Gavin clenched his jaw. “I killed him. I burned my whole fucking house to the ground. It was the only way out. If I hadn’t done it, he would have kept—hurting me.” His lips trembled, and his body went rigid. “He’d sneak into my room at night and—” He covered his face with his hands and began to weep openly.

Brett’s stomach rolled with disgust and rage for the dead man whose face he couldn’t plow his fist into. “Gavin, that’s enough. You don’t have to say any more.” He’d already made a decision to help the kid.

Gavin pounded his fist on the table. “It’s not enough. I saved Ally—my sister. I loved her. I made sure she got out. But now she’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Gemma asked.

“I figured they’d send us to a relative’s house to live, but they didn’t. Nobody wanted anything to do with us. They took her away. I heard she was adopted, but they wouldn’t tell me where she went. I asked if the same family would adopt me, but they wouldn’t because no one wanted a firestarter in their house. They locked me up in an institution. Then they kicked me out.”

“How long have you been living on the street?” Brett asked.

“Two years.”

He was twenty now. The second he’d hit eighteen—adult status—they’d kicked him to the curb. Of all the irresponsible— Beneath the table, Brett gripped the pen so hard the cover cracked.

For five years, this poor kid had been virtually alone. Brett couldn’t help much, but he could help some. He glanced at his watch. With the information they’d gotten from Hicks yesterday, AUSA Moran was prepared to drop the felony murder and arson charges for the warehouse fires, but not for the dumpster fires. That was where Brett came in.

He shoved his pad and pen back into his pocket and stood. “We’ll see you in the courtroom.” He hitched his head to the door, then grabbed Blaze’s leash when his dog trotted over.

Gemma followed him out, as did Manning.

“Agent Tanner. What do you think? Will you help?”

He looked through the doorway at Gavin, and again, his stomach twisted with rage over what the kid’s father and the system had done to him. “I’ll do what I can.”

When they’d left pretrial services and were putting Blaze up in the SUV’s kennel, Gemma stopped him. “How exactly does Manning expect you to help?”

“You’ll see.” It might actually work.

And most likely alienate the prosecutor for the rest of his career.

Chapter Eight

“All rise.”

The entire courtroom, including Gemma, stood as Judge Tafoya glided in from her chambers and sat behind the bench. Brett stood beside the prosecutor at the plaintiff’s table, while Gavin Aldrich stood next to his lawyer at the defense’s table.