Up in Flames Rita Herron
For all the fans who have kept my
NIGHTHAWK ISLAND series alive
hope you like the firestarter twist!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Prologue
She should have given her puppy, Little Doodlebug, one, too.
Her daddy was on a tear tonight. Hed been drinking that brown, smelly stuff. Cussing and pacing. Throwing things. Hed already broken an ashtray and a lamp.
And hed kicked Little Doodlebug so hard that he wasnt moving.
She blotted at the tears on her face, and wished her mama was still here. But her mama had run away and hadnt come back.
Her daddy stumbled to the wooden table, grabbed his cigarettes and lit one. The smell made her stomach hurt.
Rosanna! Come out, come out wherever you are.
She gulped and held her breath, hoping he wouldnt find her. But he knelt down and stabbed her with his beady eyes. Eyes that looked yellow and evil.
Why are you hiding from Daddy? he sneered.
She willed Doodlebug to get up and help her, but he didnt make a sound. Had her daddy killed him?
He reached for her, and she scrambled away and ran into the den. Wind rattled the windowpanes. The fire in the fireplace crackled and popped. Orange and red flames shot sparks into the dark room.
The big deer head on the wall glared down at her as if it was her fault hed been shot. But her daddy had killed it, too.
She darted behind the big chair to hide. His feet pounded on the wood floor.
She closed her eyes, and in her mind saw Granny bent over her cauldron pot, the water boiling. Granny sprinkling in weird things like toads feet, snakeskin and lizards eyes. She could still smell the roots simmering. Hear Grannys soothing voice telling her stories about witches and voodoo. Rosanna wished she had a magic spell right now to save her from her daddy.
Something wet plopped on her head. She opened her eyes and looked up. The deer head was crying.
And her daddy was looming over her, his cheeks bulging red. He was mad as a hornet. And when daddy got mad
She clenched her hands together. Prayed hed go away. But his fingers clamped around her wrist. There was no place to hide.
Then she saw the firepoker leaning against the hearth. If she had it, she could swing it at him. She reached out her hand. Clawed for it.
But she was too far away.
A chant her granny used to say echoed in her head. She whispered it into the darkness.
Suddenly the poker flew off the hearth and slammed into her fathers head. He bellowed and fell to his knees, blood dripping
down his forehead.
Youre a devil just like your granny, he said. I told your mama that. Thats why she run off. She was scared of you. He staggered toward her. Now, youre gonna be sorry.
He dug his fingernails into her skin, but a loud roar split the air. Then the deer head dropped from the wall and slammed against his skull.
A loud cracking, like the sound of thunder, followed, and she saw the bookcase falling. She screamed and jerked free just as it crashed down on top of her daddys legs. He bellowed like a wild animal. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.
She gulped back tears, saw the firepoker with blood on it and knew that she had caused it to move. Shaking all over, she laid her hand on the deer head. It was staring back at her, but it wasnt crying anymore.
It was smiling.
Chapter One
Detective Bradford Walsh was starving. Starved for food.
Starved for a woman.
Starved for a reprieve from the sweltering heat in Savannah, and a break from the recent crime wave terrorizing the citizens.
But as he watched the blazing fire engulfing Cozys Café on River Street, the possibility of satisfying any of those hungers that night quickly went up in smoke just like the building had minutes ago.
Dammit. How long had it been since hed had a good meal? A decent nights sleep?
A night of hot sex?
A Fourth of July without trouble?
His partner, Parker Kilpatrick, joined him, soot darkening his jeans and shirt, sweat beading on his forehead. He and Parker had arrived first on the scene and had rushed in to make sure everyone escaped the blaze unharmed. In fact, his captain, Adam Black, knew about Bradfords history and had handpicked him to spearhead investigations into the recent arson crimes in the city.
Bradford was determined to prove that a screwup with his brother hadnt cost him his job.
Which was the only thing he had left since his family relationships disintegrated with his brothers arrest.
Dragging his mind back to the current situation, he assessed the scene. A half-dozen patrons milled around the edge of the sidewalk watching the building deconstruct. Thick plumes of gray smoke curled toward the sky, the orange, red and yellow flames shooting into the darkness. The owner, a pudgy Southern woman named Hazel, flapped her hands around, waving smoke away in between bouts of crying in her coffee-stained apron.