Gilt Read Online Free PDF Page A

brown eyes. Evaluation? Assessment? Worry?
    The expression vanished and polite curiosity replaced it. "There are several reasons they might be involved. If there's a suspicion a Federal crime was committed, they would be called in. Or local law enforcement can request assistance."
    He was lying. I was almost sure of it, but I couldn't put my finger on why he would. I gave myself a mental shake. I didn't know the man. How could I know if he was lying or not? "I'm not sure how an arson investigation takes place. Do you know?"
    "It's similar to any police investigation." Dan's eyes flickered to the bookcases behind me then he turned his attention back to me. "Because a homicide was involved, it's technically the jurisdiction of the Roseville Police Department. The investigating officer in charge of the case works with the arson investigator in the Fire Department to review the evidence."
    "But the FBI are involved now," I interrupted. "How does that work?"
    "Tell us, Mr. Steele," a voice said behind me. "Tell us how that works."
    I started, so surprised my actions caused the file folder to skitter to the edge of the table. Paul Denton caught it and nudged it back onto safe territory. I craned my neck to peer up at him. "Hi, Paul, how are..." My words faded when I saw his thunderous look directed at Dan Steele. "This is Dan--"
    "I know who Mr. Steele is." Paul pulled out a chair and sat next to me, his eyes still fixed on Dan. "We've met." He glanced at me. "Michael is joining us. He's parking his car."
    As always, I was surprised by how big Paul was. He was a college friend of John's, where they played football together. They were such a study in contrasts: Paul was the linebacker, big, burly, and black with his shaved head, thick body, and his background growing up on Detroit's mean streets. Then there was John, the wide receiver, tall and rangy with dark hair, a sunny smile, and a gentle disposition, who grew up in a small town in Minnesota.
    Paul wore a dark blue Roseville Fire Department polo shirt that strained across his massive chest. He appeared tired, almost haggard. In the year since his promotion to Captain, Paul seemed increasingly harried. I didn't see him often, usually at fundraisers or charity events, but every time I saw him he seemed like a man with a lot on his mind and little time to pause and think. Of course, he was raising his teenage son by himself since his wife died and his daughter was finishing college. Who knew what strains parenting added in addition to his career?
    "Michael is joining us?" I asked, hoping Paul didn't hear the disappointment in my voice. Michael Bennington was John's best friend from high school and he also attended the same college with John and Paul. Although John and Michael were from my home town, they were five years older than I so I was barely aware of them when I was in school. The three men were nicknamed the Tall (John, at six-foot-five), the Dark (Paul, who was black) and the Handsome (Michael, who was a sportswear model while he attended law school). Both Paul and John were good-looking, but neither could match Michael's boyish blond ruggedness. "Why?"
    "We're both concerned about this investigation," Paul said, his eyes still on Dan. "How did you meet Mr. Steele?"
    "It was totally by accident," I said defensively, then angry that I was defensive. Why was Paul acting so--so--macho? "I was at John's grave and I saw him. Dan's wife was killed in the same fire that killed John."
    "I know." Paul glanced once at me then re-fixed his gaze on Dan. "He's the one who asked the FBI to investigate."
    "What?" My eyes went immediately to Dan, who watched Paul the way my cat watched the birds on my deck. Wait a minute. Why was Dan acting like a predator? Paul was the one who was being aggressive. I dismissed that confusing thought as irrelevant.
    "Didn't he tell you?" Paul asked, the low rumble of his angry voice echoing faintly in our corner of the quiet library. "He's a friend of the