“How about when you were getting ready. Did you leave anything on? A curling iron or a straightener? Anything like that?”
“No, not at all. I’m paranoid about leaving that stuff even plugged in.” She smiled faintly. “I’m a firefighter’s daughter. I just . . . I’m really cautious. Always.”
“Right. Understandable.” Josh paused for a moment, angling his head to the left. “So when you arrived at your house last night, Fire Captain Tate Warren was with you, correct?”
“He drove me home, yes.”
“And you saw no one else on the road, no other cars passing you by, coming from the direction of your place?”
“No.” She shook her head. “The road was quiet. It was late, almost ten. All I remember is seeing the flames shooting up from my house and running toward the fire engines.” She breathed deep, trying to call up more. “I ran into my brother Holden. He wanted me to leave though. So did Tate. That’s when I think I fainted. After that, I don’t remember much.” She sent Josh an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled, though his gaze remained grim. “Don’t apologize. You’ve given me some good information, now that I know when you arrived home and then left.”
Josh rose to his feet and she did the same, surprised that the interview was that short. He shook her hand again. “Thanks for talking to me so soon after the incident. I’ll probably need to speak with you again in the next few days.”
“That’s fine,” she said, offering him a faint smile.
Tate came out of the kitchen and escorted Josh to the door, both men talking in low murmurs before she heard the door open and close. Within seconds Tate was in the living room standing in front of her.
“You okay?”
Wren nodded. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“He knows you didn’t see much. They’re trying to figure out who’s doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Setting all of these fires. I’m thinking it was arson, Wren. Your house was set on fire. On purpose.”
Chapter Nine
“THERE’S A LOT you need to take care of,” Tate said gently, his gaze fixed on the top of Wren’s head, which was bent over the table. She’d been quiet all morning, not that he could blame her. She had to be in a state of shock, considering her house just burned to the ground.
“I know,” she mumbled, toying with her silverware. He’d taken her out to breakfast, knowing it wouldn’t necessarily cheer her up, but he had to get her out of the house. He wanted to be there for her. Help her out. Dealing with the fire’s aftermath was difficult. There was so much to do, so much to prepare.
And it was obvious Wren didn’t know where to start.
“You had insurance?” Tate asked her as he stared at his phone. He was in the notes section, making a list of everything Wren needed to do.
“I didn’t own the place,” she admitted, her voice so soft he almost couldn’t hear her. “I rented it.”
“But you had renter’s insurance.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers, but she wouldn’t look at him. “Aw, Dove.”
She shook her head fast, still refusing to look at him. “I can’t talk about it. Not right now. Later, okay?”
Shit. He thought she might be starving, but she only picked at her food. The few locals who were in the place approached their table, checking on Wren, asking if she was all right. She nodded and smiled, acting like everything was going to be okay, but he could tell she was faking it.
She was the furthest thing from okay. Being out in public wasn’t helping matters either. He should’ve picked up something to go or, even better, made her breakfast. But his fridge was pretty much empty, and he was back on shift tomorrow morning, so there hadn’t been any reason to stock up.
“I guess I’ll have to move in with my parents.” Wren pushed her plate away from her, crossing her arms in front of her chest. While she was in the shower, Harper had brought over Wren’s purse and phone, along with a change of clothes.
“Do you know where Wren plans on staying?” Harper had asked him when she stopped by.
“Here with me,” he’d said firmly, making Harper’s eyes go wide with surprise. But she’d never said a word in protest, so he figured she approved.
Not that he cared if he had her approval or not. This was between him and Wren. No one else.
“I want you to stay at my place,” he said, holding up a hand when Wren started to protest. She went quiet, and he continued. “I’m going back to work tomorrow, and you’ll have the place to yourself. Stay in the spare room, cook in my kitchen, watch TV, whatever you need to do. I don’t mind.”