Free Charred by Kate Watterson Page B

visions, why can’t the sinners?
    *   *   *
    The prestigious neighborhood surprised him a little. He didn’t know a lot about MacIntosh’s personal life, but Jason was pretty sure on her salary she couldn’t afford a house like the sprawling split-level Tudor with the neat if unimaginative big sloping lawn. Just the intricate etched-glass front door alone he was pretty sure cost more than his car. The department had its share of gossip—in any work environment people talked—and a little more than usual about her because of the circumstances that won her the job offer in the first place.
    If he had to guess, the house belonged to the fairly infamous guy who had the misfortune of catching the attention of the serial killer she’d finally caught last fall. He was supposed to be some kind of brilliant computer guy and his house sure looked like he was brilliant, all right.
    He pulled in, punched in her number. “I’m outside.”
    “Good morning to you too.”
    Damn. Kate had told him a hundred times he should at least say hello. He was going to have to work on that. “I thought you’d probably hear my car.”
    Luckily his partner didn’t seem to take offense. “Be right there.”
    She was true to her word. Detective MacIntosh came out the front door, no nonsense as usual, hair loose around her shoulders, her hazel eyes direct as she opened the door of the Mustang and slid in. “Where are we going first? Helton or Mrs. Tobias?”
    That was pretty gracious for her. Since he’d figured out she was a lot more used to running an investigation than accepting guidance, he appreciated the courtesy. Jason adjusted his perception a notch in her favor and responded, “Helton can see us at ten. Mrs. Tobias isn’t currently available, but I have it on good authority she can’t avoid us forever. This your house?”
    “No.”
    He lifted his brows in unspoken inquiry.
    She just fastened her seat belt.
    Fine. Her personal life was an I-don’t-give-a-fuck situation anyway on his part, so he left it alone.
    With a backward glance, he pulled the car out onto the street, his wrist negligently on the steering wheel. “Helton swears he has no idea who it could be. All right, on the phone I don’t necessarily discount that, but I’d love to see his face when he says it.”
    “Why?”
    She wore a light-colored blouse and chocolate-colored tailored slacks and her hair smelled really good. Jasmine? He had no idea, but it was floral and light and the heat made the fragrance permeate the interior of the car. It was stupid to even think about it, so he refocused. He was a guy, he’d noticed, and now dismissed it.
    “Helton?” He drove down the sunny street—Jesus, it was hot again, the whole state needed rain—and braked for the stoplight. “He’s what I call a white-collar scumbag. He doesn’t break legs or crack heads, he doesn’t even extort as far as I know, but Matthew and Michelle Tobias bought a house from him at a really high interest rate and it burned down. He was the bank, let’s keep that in mind.”
    “We know the fire was set. We need to go over his finances with a fine-tooth comb.”
    “If it wasn’t a holiday weekend that would be easier, but I checked him out and he doesn’t have any outstanding warrants or a record. He lived in the house for almost twenty years and just made the deal with the Tobiases maybe a year ago.”
    “Okay. Interesting, and good work.”
    He’d actually spent hours on the computer, so she should appreciate it, but it didn’t prove much.
    He glanced over. She had a nice profile, pretty nice body too. Breasts not big, but firm and well shaped, a good balance for her slender body; whoever owned that really expensive house might be a lucky guy. Jason said in a contemplative tone, “He is a good possibility. And has a motive. Which up until now we don’t have, but I’m not sure we aren’t wasting our time. Insurance fraud would fly, except for one thing.”
    “The dead