Chasing Fire
Page 65

The cry emptied out the temper and the self-pity. For a trade-off she accepted the splitting headache, and downed the medication before splashing cold water on her face.
One of the problems with being a true blonde with fair skin, she mused, giving herself the hard eye in the mirror, was that after a jag she resembled someone who’d gotten a brutal sunburn, through cheesecloth.
She splashed some more, then wrung out a cold cloth. She gave herself ten minutes flat on her back on the bed, the cloth over her face, to let the meds and the cool do their job.
So she’d overreacted, she thought. Beat her with a brick.
She’d apologize to her father for sticking her nose in his business since he now had business he didn’t want her to stick her nose into.
And she damn well expected the same courtesy from a certain fastfooted, hotshot rookie, so he’d better come back safe.
She checked her face again, decided she’d do. Maybe she didn’t look her best, but she didn’t look as if she’d spent the last twenty minutes curled up on the floor, blubbering like a big baby.
On her way toward Operations to check on the status of the crews, she caught sight of Special Agent DiCicco walking toward her.
“Ms. Tripp.”
“Look, I know you’ve got a job to do, but we’ve got two loads out. I’m heading to Ops, and don’t have time to go over ground I’ve already gone over.”
“I’m sorry, but I will need to speak with you, as well as members of the crew and staff. The remains you discovered yesterday have been positively identified as Dolly Brakeman.”
“Hell.” Sick, Rowan pressed her forehead, and rubbed it side to side. “Oh, hell. How? How did she die?”
“Since some of those details will make the evening news, I can tell you cause of death was a broken neck, possibly incurred in a fall.”
“A fall? You’d have to fall really hard and really wrong. Not an accidental fall, not when she left her car one place and ended up in another.”
DiCicco’s face remained impassive, her eyes level. “This is a homicide investigation, coordinated with an arson investigation. Your instincts on both counts appear to have been right on target.”
“And being right makes me a suspect.”
“I’m not prepared to eliminate anyone as a suspect, but you have an alibi for the time frame. The fact is, you and the victim had an adversarial relationship. It’s an avenue I need to explore.”
“Explore away. Be Magellan. I didn’t look for trouble with her. If I could’ve punched her on the infamous day of the blood of the pigs, I would have. And she’d have earned it. I think she should’ve been charged for what she did to our equipment, and spent some quality time in jail. I don’t think she should’ve died for either of those offenses. She was—”
Rowan broke off as a truck roared in, fishtailing as it swerved in her direction. She grabbed DiCicco’s arm to yank her back even as DiCicco grabbed hers to do the same.
The truck braked with a shriek, spewed up clouds of road dust.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell are you...” She trailed off as she recognized the man leaping out of the truck as Leo Brakeman, Dolly’s father.
“My daughter is dead.” He stood there, meaty hands balled into white-knuckled fists at his sides, his former All-State left tackle’s body quivering, his face—wide and hard—reddened.
“Mr. Brakeman, I’m sorry for—”
“You’re responsible. There’s nothing left of her but burned bones, and you’re responsible.”
“Mr. Brakeman.” DiCicco stepped between Rowan and Brakeman, but Rowan shifted to the side, refusing the shield. “I explained to you that I and the full resources of my agency will do everything possible to identify your daughter’s killer. You need to go home, be with your wife and your granddaughter.”
“You’ll just cover it up. You work for the same people. My daughter would be alive today if not for that one.” When he pointed his finger, Rowan felt the raging grief behind it stab like a blade.
“She got Dolly fired because she couldn’t stand being reminded of how she let Jim Brayner die. She got her fired so Dolly had to drive all the way down to Florence to find work. If she didn’t kill my girl with her own hands, she’s the reason for it.
“You think you’re so important?” he raged at Rowan. “You think you can ride on your father’s coattails, and because your name’s Tripp you can push people around? You were jealous of my girl, jealous because Jim tossed you over for her, and you couldn’t stand it. You let him die so she couldn’t have him.”
“Leo.” L.B., with a wall of men behind him, moved forward. “I’m sorry about Dolly. Every one of us is sorry for your loss. But I’m going to ask you once to get off this property.”
“Why don’t you fire her? Why don’t you kick her off this base like she was trash, the way you did my girl? Now my girl’s dead, and she’s standing there like it was nothing.”
“This isn’t a good time for you to be here, Leo.” L.B. kept his voice low, quiet. “You need to go home and be with Irene.”
“Don’t tell me what I need. There’s a baby needs her ma. And none of you give a damn about that. You’re going to pay for what happened to my Dolly. You’re going to pay dear, all of you.”
He spat on the ground, slammed back into his truck. Rowan saw tears spilling down his cheeks as he spun the wheel and sped away.
“Ro.”
“Not now, L.B. Please.” She shook her head.
“Now,” he corrected, and put an arm firm around her shoulders. “You come inside with me. Agent DiCicco, if you need to talk to Rowan, it’s going to be later.”
DiCicco watched the wall of men close ranks like a barricade, then move into the building behind Rowan.
Inside, L.B. steered her straight to his office, shut the door on the rest of the men. “Sit,” he ordered.
When she did, he shoved his hands through his hair, leaned back on his desk. “You know Leo Brakeman’s a hard-ass under the best of circumstances.”
“Yeah.”
“And these are beyond shitty circumstances.”
“I get it. It has to be somebody’s fault, and Dolly blamed me for everything else, so I’m the obvious choice. I get it. If she told him—people—I was doing the deed with Jim before he tossed me over, why wouldn’t her father think I had it out for his kid? And just to clarify, Jim and I were never—”