Night Smoke by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

and a couple of trophies, each topped with a statuette of a basketball player. And, she noted with a sniff, dust. His desk, slightly larger than a card table and badly scarred, was propped up under one shortened leg by a tattered paperback copy of
The Red Pony
.
    The man didn’t even have respect for Steinbeck.
    When her curiosity got the better of her, Natalie rose from the folding chair, with its torn plastic seat, and poked around his desk.
    No photographs, she noted. No personal mementos. Bent paper clips, broken pencils, a claw hammer, a ridiculous mess of disorganized paperwork. She pushed at some of that, then jumped back inhorror when she revealed the decapitated head of a doll.
    She might have laughed at herself, if it wasn’t so hideous. The remnant of a child’s toy, the frizzy blond hair nearly burned away, the once rosy face melted into mush on one side. One bright blue eye remained staring.
    “Souvenirs,” Ry said from the doorway. He’d been watching her for a couple of minutes. “From a class A fire up in the east sixties. The kid made it.” He glanced down at the head on his desk. “She was in a little better shape than her doll.”
    Her shudder was quick and uncontrollable. “That’s horrible.”
    “Yeah, it was. The kid’s father started it with a can of kerosene in the living room. The wife wanted a divorce. When he was finished, she didn’t need one.”
    He was so cold about it, she thought. Maybe he had to be. “You have a miserable job, Inspector.”
    “That’s why I love it.” He glanced around as the outer door opened. “Have a seat. I’ll be right with you.” Ry pulled the office door closed before he turned to the uniformed firefighter who’d come in behind him.
    Through the glass, Natalie could hear the mutter of voices. She didn’t need to hear Ry raise his voice—as he soon did—to know that the young fireman was receiving a first-class dressing-down.
    “Who told you to ventilate that wall, probie?”
    “Sir, I thought—”
    “Probies don’t think. You’re not smart enough to think. If you were, you’d know what fresh air does for a fire. You’d know what happens when you let it in and there’s a damn puddle of fuel oil sloshing under your boots.”
    “Yes, sir. I know, sir. I didn’t see it. The smoke—”
    “You’d better learn to see through smoke. You’d better learn to see through everything. And when the fire goes into the frigging wall, you don’t take it on yourself to give it a way out while you’re standing in accelerant. You’re lucky to be alive, probie, and so’s the team who were unlucky enough tobe with you.”
    “Yes, sir. I know, sir.”
    “You don’t know diddly. That’s the first thing you remember the next time you go in to eat smoke. Now get out of here.”
    Natalie crossed her legs when Ry came into the room. “You’re a real diplomat. That kid couldn’t have been more than twenty.”
    “Be nice if he lived to a ripe old age, wouldn’t it?” With a flick of his wrist, Ry tugged down the blinds, closing them in.
    “Your technique makes me regret I didn’t bring a lawyer with me.”
    “Relax.” He moved to his desk, pushed some files out of his way. “I don’t have the authority to arrest, just to investigate.”
    “Well, I’ll sleep easy now.” Deliberately she took a long look at her watch. “How long do you think this is going to take? I’ve already wasted twenty minutes.”
    “I got held up.” He sat, opened the bag he’d brought in with him. “Have you had lunch?”
    “No.” Her eyes narrowed as he took out a wrapped package that smelled tantalizingly of deli. “Are you telling me that you’ve kept me waiting in here while you picked up a sandwich?”
    “It was on my way.” He offered her half of a corned beef on rye. “I’ve got a couple of coffees, too.”
    “I’ll take the coffee. Keep the sandwich.”
    “Suit yourself.” He handed her a small insulated cup. “Mind if we record