Chapter 11
Marco
The evidence isn’t talking.
I’ve been staring at these photos for three hours, and they’re still not telling me anything I don’t already know. Someone poured accelerant in the café storage room. Someone lit it. Someone walked away while Rachel Morgan and her kid were upstairs.
That’s where the story ends.
No witnesses. No security footage. No suspects beyond the usual insurance fraud angles, which were already ruled out when we confirmed the owners would lose money on the payout.
“You’re going to burn a hole through that photo with your glare,” Phoebe says from her desk.
“This doesn’t make sense.” I tap the burn pattern analysis. “Professional enough to avoid cameras and witnesses. Sloppy enough to use basic accelerant and leave obvious pour patterns. It’s contradictory.”
“Maybe they’re not professional. Maybe they just got lucky.”
“Nobody gets this lucky.” I close the file. “There’s something we’re missing. A connection we haven’t found yet.”
“Or it’s random. Sometimes fires are just fires.”
“Random doesn’t burn down buildings with people inside.” I stand up, needing to move. “I’m going to review the witness statements again. See if anyone mentioned seeing someone unusual around the café that day.”
“You already reviewed them twice.”
“Then I’ll review them a third time.”
Phoebe gives me that look. The one that says she knows I’m obsessing but also knows better than to tell me to let it go.
My phone buzzes—text from Jake.
Barbecue at my place tomorrow, 2 p.m. Celebrating the Alaska gig. You coming?
I type back: Yeah. I’ll be there.
Good. Rachel’s making her famous potato salad. Fair warning, Cole and Theo already confirmed.
Of course they did.
I pocket my phone and grab my jacket. “I’m heading out. Call me if anything comes up with the lab results.”
“Where are you going?”
“To clear my head.”
What I don’t say is that I need to stop thinking about this case before I drive myself insane looking for patterns that might not exist.
Jake’s backyard is packed by the time I arrive at two-fifteen.
Not packed like a party. Packed like Jake invited half the marine biology department, and they all showed up with side dishes.
There are maybe fifteen people scattered across the lawn, most of them clustered around the grill where Jake’s burning burgers with the confidence of someone who has no idea what he’s doing.
Cole’s already here, standing near the cooler with a beer. He nods when he sees me.
Theo is on the back porch talking to some woman I don’t recognize. From the way she’s laughing, he’s probably telling one of his terrible jokes.
And Rachel.
She’s coming out the back door with a huge bowl of potato salad, wearing a yellow sundress that stops mid-thigh and makes her legs look about a mile long. Her hair’s down, catching the afternoon sun, and she’s smiling at something Tommy just said.
I look away before anyone catches me staring.
“Marco!” Jake waves me over to the grill. “Perfect timing. Tell me if these burgers look edible.”
They look like charcoal, but I lie. “They look great.”
“You’re a terrible liar, but I appreciate the effort.” He flips one, and it falls apart immediately. “Dammit.”
One of his colleagues—a tall guy with glasses—laughs. “This is why Sarah never lets you near our grill.”
“Sarah has no faith in my abilities.”
“Sarah has functioning taste buds.”
I grab a beer from the cooler and position myself where I can see most of the yard without being obvious about it, an old habit from the Marines. Always know your exits. Always track movement.
Rachel sets the potato salad on the food table and immediately gets pulled into a conversation with three of Jake’s friends. She’s good at this. Social. Easy. Laughing at the right moments, asking questions that keep the conversation flowing.
Tommy runs past with two other kids, chasing each other with water guns.
“Tommy Morgan, you spray Mr. Henderson, and you’re grounded until college,” Rachel calls out.
Henderson, another of Jake’s colleagues, grins. “Let the kid have fun. I could use a cooling off.”
“Don’t encourage him. He’s already a menace.”
But she’s smiling when she says it, relaxed in a way I haven’t seen before. Not the terrified woman I interviewed after the fire. Not the stressed single mother worried about custody battles. Just… Rachel. Comfortable in her own skin.
Cole moves closer to her. Casual. Like he just happens to be walking past to grab more chips. But I notice the way he looks at her when he thinks no one’s watching.
Theo abandons his conversation on the porch and heads straight for Rachel’s orbit, too.
They’re not subtle. Not even close.
“You planning to join the party or just observe from the shadows like a creep?” Jake appears beside me with a plate of burgers that somehow survived his cooking attempt.
“I’m participating.”
“You’re lurking. There’s a difference.” He shoves the plate at me. “Eat. Socialize. Pretend you’re human for five minutes.”
“I am human.”
“Debatable.”
One of the marine biology guys—middle-aged, friendly face—approaches with his hand extended. “You must be Marco. Jake talks about you all the time. I’m Paul. I work with Jake at the research facility.”
I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Jake mentioned you’re a fire investigator. That must be intense work.”
“It has its moments.”
“Were you military before that? You’ve got that look.”
Here we go.
“Marines. Six years.”
“Afghanistan?”
“Yeah.”
“My nephew served there, too. Helmand Province. Came back different.” Paul’s expression softens. “Must’ve been rough.”
I don’t want to talk about this. Don’t want to think about sand and heat and the sound of explosions that still wake me up some nights.
“It was a long time ago,” I say, which isn’t true but sounds final enough to end the conversation.
Except Paul doesn’t take the hint. “Jake said you got out and went straight into fire investigation. That’s quite a career shift.”
“Seemed like a good fit.”
“Because of the structure? The protocols?” He’s genuinely curious, not pushing. But it still feels like an interrogation. “Or because you wanted to help people in a different way?”
Both. Neither. I don’t know anymore.
“Marco doesn’t like talking about his service.” Rachel’s voice cuts through the conversation. She’s appeared beside Paul with a bowl of chips. “Paul, your wife’s looking for you. Something about needing help with the dessert setup.”
“Oh, right. Thanks, Rachel.” He nods at me. “Good meeting you, Marco.”
He walks away, and I’m left standing there with Rachel, who’s watching me with those green eyes that see too much.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.
“Do what?”
“Rescue me from the conversation.”
“Looked like you needed rescuing.” She sets the chips down on the nearest table. “You had that expression people get when they’re about to bolt.”
“I don’t bolt.”
“Everyone bolts sometimes.” She glances toward where Tommy’s still running around with his water gun. “Paul means well, but he doesn’t know when to stop asking questions.”
“Neither do I.”
She laughs. Slight sound, but real. “Fair point. Comes with the job, I guess.”
We stand there for a moment, and I realize this is the first time we’ve talked when I’m not interrogating her about a fire. The first time, she’s not a witness, and I’m not an investigator.
She’s just Rachel. And I’m just… what? Jake’s friend? The guy who pulled her out of traffic? The investigator who keeps showing up in her life uninvited?
“How’s the case going?” she asks. “The café fire. Any leads?”
“Not yet. It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated lately.” She adjusts the strap of her sundress, and I force myself not to notice how the fabric moves against her skin. “Jake’s excited about Alaska. Scared, but excited.”
“He should go. It’s a good opportunity.”
“That’s what I told him.” She looks at me directly. “He’s worried about leaving me alone. Worried I can’t handle things.”
“Can you?”
“I’ve been handling things my entire life. This isn’t any different.”
But her voice wavers slightly on the last word, and I realize she’s not as certain as she wants to be.
“You’re not alone,” I say before I can stop myself. “Jake’s got friends here. We’ll keep an eye on things while he’s gone.”
“We?”
“Cole. Theo. Me.” I take a drink of my beer to avoid looking at her. “You need something, you call one of us.”
“That’s very protective of you.”
“That’s very practical of me. Jake’s my friend. Making sure his sister’s okay is basic friendship maintenance.”
“Is that what this is? Friendship maintenance?”
There’s something in her tone. Something I can’t quite identify. Not flirting. Not exactly. More like she’s testing something and seeing how I react.
I don’t react. Can’t react.
“That’s what this is,” I confirm.
She nods slowly. “Right. Of course.”
Tommy appears then, soaking wet and grinning like he just won the lottery. “Mama! Can I have a burger now? I’m starving!”
“You’re always starving.” But Rachel ruffles his wet hair. “Go ask Uncle Jake if they’re ready. And dry off first. You’re dripping everywhere.”
Tommy runs off, and Rachel watches him go with that expression mothers get. Proud and exhausted and fiercely protective all at once.
“He’s a good kid,” I say.
“He’s the best kid.” She turns back to me. “Thanks for earlier. The storage room question thing. I know you were just doing your job, but you didn’t make me feel like a suspect. That meant something.”
“You’re not a suspect.”
“I know. But it’s nice to hear anyway.”
Cole calls her name from across the yard. She waves and starts walking toward him, then pauses and looks back at me.
“You should stay for dinner. Jake’s making his terrible burgers, but the sides are good. And you look like you could use a decent meal.”
“I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t a question.” She smiles. “Stay. Eat. Stop lurking in corners like you’re working.”
Then she’s gone, sundress swaying as she walks across the lawn to wherever Cole’s waiting.
I want to leave and get in my truck and drive home and put distance between myself and whatever the hell this is.
But I stay.
I stay and watch her laugh with Jake’s friends. Watch her corral Tommy away from the dessert table before he spoils his dinner. Watch her catch Theo’s eye across the yard and smile in a way that makes my chest tight.
Watch Cole hand her a drink and lean in close to say something that makes her throw her head back laughing.
And I realize two things simultaneously.
One: Cole and Theo are definitely interested in her. This isn’t me reading into things. This is real.
Two: I’m interested too. Despite every logical reason not to be. Despite telling them she wasn’t my type. Despite knowing Jake would lose his mind if any of us crossed that line.
I’m interested.
And that’s a problem I don’t know how to solve.
I leave at seven, making excuses about early meetings that aren’t true. Jake tries to convince me to stay for dessert. Rachel offers to pack me leftovers I don’t need.
I decline both and drive home with the image of her in that yellow sundress burned into my brain.
This is precisely what I didn’t want. Exactly what I swore I wouldn’t do after the mess with Samantha three years ago.
But Rachel Morgan isn’t Samantha.
And that might be the biggest problem of all.