“See, it’s not the house.”
“I have to see. I have to know.” Miranda spun away from him, running around the opposite side of the house. Ethan followed, determined to keep her out of harm’s way.
Miranda pulled up short at the corner of the house. The shed in the back corner of the yard poured smoke. Flames shot through a hole that’d been burned in the roof. But even as they watched, the water began to beat back the blaze. A second hose opened up, catching both of them in the blow back as the fire fighters doused the deck and roof.
Ethan tugged her back. “It’s just the shed. The house is okay. C’mon. Let’s let them do their job.” He kept his tone calm and matter-of-fact, though his brain was firing a mile a minute, considering the implications, wondering if it was arson. And if it was, what the next escalation would be.
The fire was out in a matter of minutes. One of the men broke away, tugging off his helmet as he came toward where they stood on the front lawn. Ethan recognized him from the bowhunter safety course.
“Dr. Campbell, I’m Sean Murphy. We’ve got everything taken care of. Fire’s out. You were really lucky your neighbor saw the smoke and called it in. We were here in time to put out the fire before things got really bad. The shed is pretty much a loss, but it didn’t spread.”
“Thank you.” She blew out a breath, obviously struggling to find some composure. “Any idea what started it?”
“Things are still cooling, but we found a can of linseed oil tipped over on a shelf. At a guess, the top wasn’t adequately sealed and it set up a slow drip on the stuff underneath and eventually spontaneously combusted. Linseed oil is highly flammable and gets hotter as it evaporates. It’s a really common cause of fires.”
“How long would something like that take?” Ethan asked.
“Hard to say. Depends on how bad the can was leaking. The cold weather would’ve slowed things down some. Might have been hours. Might have been days to build up enough concentration.”
“Could it be arson?”
Miranda’s head whipped toward him and Sean’s gaze sharpened. “If the can was tipped over deliberately, then yes, it could be. But usually if arsonists go this route, they’ll use oily rags. We aren’t seeing evidence of that. Most fires caused by linseed oil are accidental.”
Most, but not all. The timing of this one just seemed a little too coincidental, given everything else going on.
Beside him, Miranda stiffened, her face going ashen. “Oh God. Did you see any evidence of…of a cat inside?”
A cat? She didn’t have a cat.
“We haven’t been through everything yet, but we didn’t see anything right off,” Sean assured her.
“What cat?” Ethan asked.
“Percy. The neighbor’s cat. He’s always getting into the shed to go after mice. I had to shoo him out the other morning after I put the shovel away. I didn’t look to see if he’d messed anything up, just nudged him out and locked up again. He jumps on everything. He could’ve knocked the can over, and I wouldn’t have known.”
“Sounds like your most probable fire starter,” Sean agreed.
“The damned cat drives me nuts, but I wouldn’t want him to die like that. I just wish they’d keep him in the house and off my property.”
“We’ll do a more thorough inspection once everything cools. If there’s anything concerning, you’ll be the first to hear about it, Chief.”
“Thanks, Sean.”
The cat was a logical explanation. It should have put Ethan at ease. But it didn’t. Once they got into the house, he couldn’t settle until he’d checked the whole thing from top to bottom, looking for…well, he didn’t know what he was looking for. Something out of place. Some evidence someone had been inside. He found nothing. That didn’t make him feel any better either.
Miranda found him in the living room. “I just got off the phone with Mrs. Gifford. Percy is safe and sound at home, and he’ll be staying that way. She was horrified her little angel caused all that damage.”
“If he caused it.”
Her mouth pulled into a frown. “Of course he caused it. I saw him in there days ago. You heard Sean. It makes the most logical sense.”
It did. Based on Occam’s Razor, the cat was at fault. But Ethan’s gut was still clanging. He had to credit that for the crazy that spewed out of his mouth. “I’m moving in.”
She stared at him. “You’re what now?”
He hadn’t thought it through, but the idea was out there now. “If you don’t want me in your bed, I’ll sleep in the guest room. Or you can move into my place. But I don’t want you alone until I figure out who’s behind all this.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard because of some vandalism. And certainly not because of a shed fire caused by a stupid cat. You are totally jumping into this ridiculous hyper-protective mode over nothing.”
Her breezy acceptance that the cat was at fault made him want to punch something. It wasn’t nothing. He’d seen too much as a Marshal, spent too much time on protection details, where things turned to shit on a dime. That leap from opportunistic harassment to premeditated violence was completely unpredictable. It could come at any time, and he didn’t even know which direction to look. The lack of progress on finding the person targeting Miranda had him on edge, trying to anticipate what was coming. He’d fallen into bodyguard mode as easily as he’d fallen into her bed.
He could tell her all of it, share the hair-raising tales of the shit he’d been through to very clearly show her how situations exactly like this could blow up. But would it work? If he told her this stuff, just to prove his point, he ran the risk of alienating her. With her rose-colored glasses view of Wishful, she might continue to cling to her perceptions. She had that nostalgic need for it to be safe. A small town retreat from the big city life she’d left behind. He also ran the risk that she would believe him. Did he really want to be responsible for permanently ruining that optimistic outlook that helped balance his cynicism?
Ethan needed more evidence than just his gut before he went down that path. Struggling to shove down his frustration, he crossed over. “I’d rather worry about nothing than risk you getting hurt.” He combed her hair back with his fingers. “This isn’t just me being a cop and going the extra mile. You matter.” It was a dim expression for what he was coming to feel for her.
When she only continued to stare at him in stunned silence, Ethan’s gut sank. Here he was pushing too far, too fast. Again. Hadn’t he promised himself he wouldn’t do this? That he’d take it slow and easy? And here he was again, getting ahead of things. Maybe he could’ve stuck to the plan if she hadn’t been in danger. But that wasn’t the reality they faced. He wondered what he could do or say to salvage this situation. Honesty won.
“I know this is another big step away from that Fun and Simple Plan we were on. But I think we already established that got shot all to hell. This thing between us isn’t casual.”
Miranda dropped her gaze as she reached out to curl her fingers around his waist, sucking in a slow breath and letting it out again in a sigh that had Ethan all but vibrating with dread. “No, it isn’t.” She looked up again. “Tell me something. You’ve been here every night for the past week. Was that because you felt the need to play bodyguard or because you wanted to be with me?”