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“What for?”

“I’ve got a room.”

* * *

In the motel room registered to him under an assumed name, Barrie shared her cheeseburger and fries. There was a small end table and one chair near the window, but they dined sitting cross-legged in the center of the double bed.

“I got fired,” she told him as she stuffed the used napkins and wrappers back into the sack. “My sincere apologies weren’t enough for Senator Armbruster. He called the station manager this morning and got me canned.”

“You can’t be surprised.”

“I guess not. Armbruster hasn’t survived this long in politics by fighting fair, and serious ass-kissing is part of Jenkins’s job. So, no, I’m not all that surprised. Then, to make a lousy day even lousier, I learned that Cronkite died as a result of my own carelessness.”

“How’s that?”

“That was the ATF’s ruling on the explosion. My dog tripped over an electrical cord when he entered the kitchen through his trapdoor. The socket sparked and ignited natural gas from the oven, which I’d left on when I went to Wyoming. Without any ventilation, the gas had compressed. It wouldn’t have taken much of a spark to ignite it, they said. Luckily, my homeowner’s insurance will cover the full loss.” With a sad smile, she added, “Of course, Cronkite wasn’t covered.”

“Your house was torched and your dog was killed, but don’t worry, ma’am, it’s covered by insurance,” he said bitterly.

“Didn’t you hear me, Gray? It was an accident.”

“Like hell. When did you last use your oven?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Have you ever turned off the pilot light?”

“No.”

“Have you ever stretched an electrical cord across the path of the back door?”

He was voicing questions she’d already asked herself. Hearing them from him only made her more determined to deny the obvious answers. “But the investigation—”

“Was right on. That’s exactly how the explosion occurred because somebody set it up to happen like that. Spence wouldn’t have had his guy plant a sophisticated bomb. Anything elaborate would have created complications in the cover-up.

“He arranged it before leaving for Wyoming, and he opted for simplicity. Actually it was a no-brainer. Duck soup. You lived alone, so a lover or elderly parent or roommate wasn’t going to be an obstacle. You were out of town, so there was time for the gas to accumulate. The explosion was planned and executed to look like an accident due to your oversight. It was a fluke that Cronkite went in ahead of you. They couldn’t have foreseen that.”

“They?”

“David Merritt sanctioned it.”

She shook her head. “Baloney. You’re basing that on the assumption that he had a big bad secret, and I was getting too close to uncovering it,” she said. “We know better now. I was wrong about Vanessa and the baby’s death and… everything. So were you. We were wrong. Right?”

“Why’d you have someone tailing you all day today? Even if there is nothing to your story—and I still contend there is—David never forgives a slight. Whether or not the allegation is true, your implied accusation pissed him off enough to have you killed.”

Her bravado collapsed. “Do you think he’ll try again?”

“That’s a safe assumption.”

“Good thing I’ve already had my supper,” she murmured. “I just lost my appetite.”

“There’s one last french fry.”

“I’ll split it with you.” She broke the cold french fry in two, put one half in her mouth, and extended the other to him. He surprised her by nibbling it straight from her fingers.

At the touch of his lips against her fingers, delicious sensations spiraled through her. Her limbs suddenly felt heavy, but her tummy floated weightlessly. She began to tingle, even to the tips of her toes.

Toes that she set firmly on the floor as she stood up. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Bondurant. In case that’s what you have in mind, I want to save you the embarrassment and the physical discomfort of getting all worked up for nothing.”