Free Pushed Too Far: A Thriller by Ann Voss Peterson, Blake Crouch Page A

through, but I can’t see it. I haven’t been able to for a while now.”
    He had the desire to ask her to repeat what she’d just said, make sure he hadn’t imagined it. Being suspected of Kelly’s murder the first time had shaken him. It had been so foreign to his own perception of who he was, and he’d been powerless to change it.
    Even with the qualifier, he felt as if Val Ryker had just given him something precious.
    “You still want my help?”
    She nodded.
    “Then tell me what you want me to do.”

Chapter
Nine
    V al pushed herself up from the chair and forced her feet to carry her to the other side of her desk. She was in trouble. If she didn’t want to realize it before, she had no choice but to face it now.
    She liked David Lund far too much. What she’d told him was the truth, she believed him in spite of the fact that circumstances said she shouldn’t. Enough that she wanted to tell him about Kelly’s baby, even though until she knew more, it wouldn’t be wise. Instead she slid the folder holding the Jane Doe photos across the blotter.
    He flipped it open and looked down at the charred fragments of bone they’d recovered from the farm’s burn barrel.” You know, I don’t have enough training to make more than basic observations.”
    “Your basic observations are far beyond mine. And I heard you work cheap.”
    “So this is a budget issue?”
    “Take a look around. What do
you
think.”
    He gave her a grin she felt as a flutter in her chest. “You get what you pay for. I have an understanding of fire. My grasp of the human body isn’t quite as firm.”
    She wasn’t sure if he was serious or flirting, and the fact that she wanted it to be flirting bothered her even more. “If you find something that might help, I’ll find the money to consult a forensic anthropologist.”
    He turned his focus back to the bones. No sign of guilt, of excitement, of anything other than studious concentration.
    When he finished, she handed him the second file.
    His lips tightened and brows lowered, but after the initial reaction to the mutilated and burned flesh, his face settled into the same unflappable focus he’d shown with the bones. Finally he closed the file and set both of them on her desk, side by side.
    “Well?”
    “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
    “You’ve compared the two. Have you noticed differences?”
    “Of course. You should contact a forensic anthropologist. Maybe you can use this investigation to go through the county or the state, have them foot the bill.”
    “Appreciate the suggestions, but I didn’t ask you here for budgeting advice. Explain what you see.”
    “Okay. How much do you know about combustion?”
    “High school science.”
    “Okay, think of fire as a living thing. It needs four things to exist, and if it’s deprived of any of those things, it dies.”
    “Fuel, heat, oxygen, and…what else?”
    “A chemical oxidation that causes the reaction to be self-sustaining.”
    She liked talking about something as defined as science. It had rules that emotion couldn’t change.
    Of course, police work did, too. “Explain.”
    “Okay. Fire takes two forms, flaming and smoldering.” He held up one hand, then reached into his pocket with the other, pulled out a stainless steel lighter and flipped it open. A flick of his thumb and a small yellow flame danced at the top.
    “I never pegged you for a smoker.”
    He gave her another grin. “I always carry one in my pocket and one on my uniform, but not for lighting up. I use it for demonstrations, at schools, that kind of thing.”
    “Or for the police chief.” She pulled her gaze from his eyes and focused on the fire. “I’m sorry. Go on.”
    “Notice how the flame seems to be dancing in mid air.”
    “It’s burning the lighter fluid.”
    “Fluid, right. It’s a liquid which must transform into a gas before it can burn. That’s why it looks like it’s floating in space. It’s burning the gas.” He