Fire Raiser by Melanie Rawn Read Free Book Online Page B

cleaned out the percolator—this is actually drinkable.”
    “Not paint?” she asked, to bring him back to the point.
    “Varnish. Jamey recognized what’s left of the logo—he spent most of last month sloshing the same stuff all over the bookshelves at his place. Before you ask, it’s a common brand, and we can trace the lot number punched onto the can but that only tells us where it was purchased, not when or by who.” He held up a finger. “Don’t say it. ‘By whom.’ ”
    “Hey, Evan!”
    They both turned to see Jamey approaching. He really was scandalously gorgeous, Holly reflected. If he had this effect on a woman insanely in love with her husband, what havoc did he wreak when he was actually trying to attract someone?
    Evan nudged her in the ribs. “Stick your eyes back in their sockets,” he murmured, laughter rippling through his voice. “You’re took.”
    “Looking isn’t against the law.”
    “Well, at least stop drooling. It’s undignified for a woman of your years, social standing, and reputation.”
    She was vastly tempted to stick out her tongue at him, but Jamey had reached the SUV by then. “Whatcha got?” she asked, passing over a turkey and swiss.
    “Thanks, Holly. I’ve got absolutely nothing. I was hoping more than that can of varnish would be lying around, waiting for us to find it.”
    Evan shook his head. “Nope. No footprints, no tire tracks, no torn fabric conveniently flapping on a tree branch.” He set aside the rest of the sandwich and scowled at the charred rubble of wood and brick that had been a church. “I’m not liking this, Jamey. Third church fire, no evidence at any of them.”
    Holly touched his arm lightly. “Gib pointed out that they’ve all been Baptist churches.”
    He shrugged. “More Baptists around here than any other denomination. We’ve got one each of Catholic, Episcopal, Mormon, AME, Lutheran, and Methodist, plus a synagogue that draws from the Tri-County area. And before you ask—none of these churches were exclusively white or black. It’s possible this is religious prejudice, but I think we can rule out racism.”
    “You’re forgetting where you live now,” Holly said quietly.
    “This is the South,” Jamey nodded. “Lacking a solid case contrariwise, racism can never be ruled out.”
    “Yeah, okay,” Evan admitted. “That was wishful thinking on my part. But now that you’ve mentioned it, there’s not a square mile in this whole country where bigotry of one kind or another can be ruled out. After all, it’s the Constitutional right of every American to hate.”
    “And the least American thing any American can do is tell another American to shut up.”
    Holly shifted impatiently. “Now that we’ve established our liberal credentials by reaffirming our belief that everyone in these United States has the right to be a moron, can we please get back to the point? You don’t have any evidence. You don’t even have any guesswork. The only thing remotely resembling a pattern is that all three churches were Baptist—but not even the same kind of Baptist. How am I doing so far?”
    “How would you write your way out of it?” Evan countered.
    “You know I’m hopeless at mysteries.”
    “Yeah,” he said with a smile, “but you make up for it in other ways.”
    Jamey grinned. “Am I about to be embarrassed by a PDA?”
    “Nothing so decorous,” Holly said sweetly. “With him, it’s always PDL.” When Jamey looked confused, she elaborated. “Public Display of Lust.”
    “You should be so lucky,” Evan shot back. “Go see if Louvena can find anything in the archives.” He bent and kissed her soundly on the lips. “Thanks for lunch.”
    By the time she got back to town, she had consulted via phone with Cousin Louvena Cox, and they had devised a plan. Louvena shut the Pocahontas County Record ’s back office, told the front desk staffers she didn’t want to be disturbed, and locked herself and Holly in the archives