Dancing with Fire Read online

  “He called me, too.”

  Kaylin turned to look at him, her green eyes wide and curious. “So you know the formula?”

  He wished. “My cell phone dumped him into voice mail. But even if we’d touched base, your father was way too careful to reveal secrets over a cell phone connection.”

  “But if you were already planning fuel runs, wouldn’t you have known the formula for a while?”

  Sawyer shook his head. “We’d run a batch, test it, then modify. We didn’t expect to get it right on the very first run.”

  “But you must have some idea of his research direction?” Kaylin asked.

  “We’d been getting closer all month. Tweaking this, adjusting that.” Sawyer frowned. “I can’t help wondering if the attempted break-in last week is connected to the explosion.”

  “But no one got in,” Kaylin argued. “At least Dad was fairly certain they didn’t.”

  “But suppose he was wrong?” Sawyer’s voice was grim. “Did he search the lab top to bottom? They could have planted an explosive device behind a ceiling panel or in an air vent, and he’d never have seen it.”

  Kaylin stared at him. “But the break-in was days ago.”

  “Maybe they had a timer. The driver of that car you heard could have set it off with an electronic device.”

  “But why? If Dad had a formula, it disappeared with him.”

  “Unless they stole it before they blew up the lab,” Sawyer suggested.

  “You think someone else wanted that formula badly enough to . . .”

  “Steal it and kill him? That would have to be a yes.”

  Randy inched over and put his head in Kaylin’s lap. Absently, she scratched behind his ears. He took her attention as an invitation to curl into her lap, put his head between his paws, and close his eyes.

  “I don’t know, Sawyer. The idea sounds farfetched. Like a movie plot. Nothing that would happen in sleepy Riverview.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “And yet, I keep thinking the same thing. Those Middle Eastern guys . . . were scary. I wouldn’t be surprised if they returned and—”

  Lia ambled outside and interrupted the conversation. She’d swept her blond hair back in a ponytail, revealing a pixyish face with swollen green eyes that had known too much sorrow. She sat tentatively, right next to Kaylin, as if she were afraid to let her get too far away. “I miss him, Kaylin. I miss him so much.”

  “We all do.” Kaylin hugged her sister.

  “Daddy’s not going to see me in the school play,” Lia sobbed. As if sensing that Lia needed him, Randy scooted from Kaylin’s lap to Lia’s. Her sister clutched the dog, who didn’t seem to mind as he tried to lick tears from her cheeks. “He’s not going to see me graduate from high school.”

  “I know you’re hurting,” Kaylin sighed, her voice choking up. “But I’ll be there, sweetie. Becca and I will be there.”

  “You aren’t my mother.”

  “We’re your family. We’ll be there for you,” she murmured, her tone strong and gentle.

  Lia buried her face in Randy’s fur, anger in her voice. “It’s not fair.”

  “No, it’s not fair,” she agreed.

  Sawyer bit back the words he wanted to say. Henry’s death wasn’t fair. But it wasn’t fair that Kaylin had stayed home to take care of Lia and Becca when she could have been auditioning in New York. Of course, Kaylin didn’t say the words. She didn’t seem to have a selfish cell in her body. Besides, Sawyer supposed someone had to be the adult.

  He also couldn’t help being proud of her. Henry had told him how Kaylin had promised her mother to take care of her sisters. And she’d kept her word. Sacrificing her goals to do so. And from the way Lia leaned on Kaylin both physically and emotionally, the kid obviously needed her big sister’s strength and love.

  The door banged open again, and Randy growled, but when he saw Becca hurrying toward them, he went back to cuddling with Lia. Unlike Lia, Becca was built curvy and strong. Wearing too much eye makeup for Sawyer’s taste, a crisp white shirt over a navy tank top, brown capris, and wedge sandals with black ribbons that crisscrossed up her calves, Becca didn’t just look upset, she was tensed with anger, her makeup smeared as if she’d been crying. “What’s going on?”

  “We were taking a time-out.” Kaylin twisted sideways and took Becca’s hands in hers. “Before Lia came out, Sawyer and I were discussing whether or not the fire was an accident. Until we know, I want you both to be very careful.”

  Becca wrenched away from Kaylin’s grasp and gestured to the blackened lab. Of his three daughters, Henry had claimed Becca thought most like her father. He’d said she had the brains, but she often let her emotions lead her. Right now grief and anger battled across her strong, feminine face.

  Anger obviously won out as Becca pointed at Kaylin. “This is all your fault. It’s your fault he’s dead.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kaylin demanded, even as the blood drained from her face. Sawyer felt as confused as Kaylin looked. How could this be her fault? She hadn’t been inside the lab in months.

  “Becca’s still in shock,” Sawyer muttered. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

  Becca frowned at him. “You aren’t part of this family. Butt out. And I know exactly what I’m saying.” Becca shook a finger in Kaylin’s face. “Dad needed money for a methanol recovery system. And you wouldn’t mortgage the house.”

  “Huh?” Clearly stunned, Kaylin probably didn’t understand the technology and had no idea what Becca was talking about. But she knew she’d been attacked. Hurt and anger blazed from her eyes. “What?”

  “Focus.” Becca snapped her fingers in her sister’s face, her eyes narrowed in anger. “Methanol is dangerous. It’s one of the chemicals that blows up crystal meth labs.”

  “Crystal meth?”

  Sawyer knew that Becca was real smart, except when it came to common sense. She’d even earned a college scholarship—only she hadn’t put in the work and had let her grades slide until she’d dropped out. At age twenty, she now worked as a waitress at a local restaurant, helping the family as much as she could with her meager earnings.

  Kaylin’s voice revealed her skepticism. “Surely Dad didn’t have crystal meth in the lab.” Her gaze shot to Sawyer for answers. “Are you saying our father was making drugs?”

  “Of course not.” He chose his words with care, refusing to say that the process could be dangerous if done incorrectly. “The methanol is combined with caustic soda to make methoxide. In the final stage of the biodiesel process, impurities are cleaned out, and that cleaning can be done in many different ways.”

  “Dad wanted to buy a centrifuge so the process would be safer, but you wouldn’t sign on the loan,” Becca accused her again.

  “I wouldn’t sign the loan because no way could we make the payments.”

  Becca tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. “If Dad made the fuel, he would have made the payments.”

  Kaylin threw up her hands in disgust. “When was the last time Dad made a house payment? I’m the one who earns the money to pay the bills—”

  “I help,” Becca interrupted.

  Kaylin started again. “We couldn’t afford—”

  “Says you. And you like playing the martyr—”

  “I do not. And please keep your voice down.” Kaylin glanced toward the guests still inside. But no one seemed to notice as they ate, drank, and talked among themselves.

  Becca’s voice sharpened. “You’re a control freak. My God, you hide in your studio—”

  “I earn a living in that studio.” Kaylin’s voice was threaded with steel. “A studio that helped Dad—”

  “Dad’s dead. It’s your fault he blew up because you wouldn’t let him buy the centrifuge.” Becca pivoted on her hee
l and returned to the houseful of guests, slamming the door behind her, leaving Lia sobbing and Kaylin shaky.

  The two sips of beer Sawyer had swallowed roiled in his gut. Didn’t Becca know how lucky she was to have her sisters? He’d give anything to have a brother or a sister. He had no aunts or uncles, no siblings. Only his grandmother. And Henry, who was gone. This family should be pulling together, not fighting.

  Apparently, Becca was hurting so badly she couldn’t stop from lashing out. Still, the damage was done. He doubted Kaylin would ever forget her sister’s nasty accusations.

  Lia raised her head to peer at Kaylin through her tears. “It’s not true, is it?”

  Kaylin seemed to draw on an inner strength that was bottomless. “Becca’s just angry because Dad’s dead. She’s taking it out on me . . . because she can.” Kaylin sighed, her eyes sad, but she seemed already to have forgiven her sister. Amazing.

  Then Sawyer saw doubts begin to cloud Kaylin’s eyes. By God, he didn’t care if Becca was hurting. She had no right to say such terrible things to Kaylin, who’d sacrificed her own dreams to be there for her sisters. He wished he could say something to comfort her. Anything.

  5

  MONDAY MORNING, Kaylin emptied the dishwasher, her mind on her sister. She and Becca hadn’t talked since their argument on Sunday. Could Becca have been right? Becca might fly off the handle, she might be impulsive, but she was smart. Had Kaylin refused to sign for an additional bank loan because she really was the control freak Becca accused her of being?

  Sure, Mitzy and Becca helped when they could, but Kaylin was the primary family provider and took pride in her role. Despite that, she would have welcomed more help. She sure as hell would have applauded her father’s success, and she still wished Becca had completed college so she could find a better job. Becca might be smart, but she was an underachiever. Yet her criticism remained, like a raw and open wound that would fester if left untended. Kaylin didn’t know how to heal the damage.

  The three sisters were so different. Lia, delicate, sensitive, and young, was almost Becca’s opposite. Becca was strong-willed, physically fit, super-intelligent, yet it was almost as if her ability to see every side of an argument left her unable to make good decisions.

  The doorbell rang, and Kaylin answered it to find Sawyer and Deputy Bryant on the stoop. Sawyer was obviously taking a break from directing the lab demolition. Bulldozers were currently loading debris into dump trucks, a job that shot ashes into the humid air.

  “Please come in.”

  “Deputy Bryant came by with more questions,” Sawyer explained, dusting off his shoulders where black flakes had settled on his brown T-shirt, before he stepped inside.

  The deputy removed his sunglasses and placed them in his front pocket. “Ma’am, I was wondering if I could take a look at your father’s home computer.”

  “Why? He didn’t keep his lab data there.”

  Sawyer nodded. “True. But every few days, Henry backed up the digital security footage from his laptop to the desktop at the house—at least that’s what he told me. He said the footage took up a lot of room and he didn’t want to slow down the laptop.”

  Kaylin had always thought three computers was overkill. But her father had insisted he needed one at the lab, another at home, and a laptop for presentations. Her frustration over her growing suspicion that the laptop with his formula had blown up with the lab warred with the hope the data might be on the home computer.

  “Can we check?” Deputy Bryant asked.

  “Sure.” She gestured down the hall, past the wedding picture of her parents that hung next to baby pictures of the three girls. “I’ll take you to his office. Has anyone figured out how the fire started?”

  “Not yet.” The deputy followed her down the hall and through the formal Florida room. Her mother had decorated in soft greens with bold tangerine pillows that had faded a long time ago, but Kaylin hadn’t had the heart or the funds to replace them. On the other side of the room was a side porch and her dad’s office. The deputy paused and surveyed the office, then headed to the desk. “It could take up to six weeks for the forensic evidence to come back.”

  “And in the meantime?” she asked.

  “Anything we can get off the security footage might help our investigation. If we can identify his visitors, we’ll talk to them as well as your neighbors, and perhaps the family attorney . . .”

  “Mr. Lansky.” She offered the name.

  “We’ll find out if anyone saw or heard anything unusual.” The deputy caught Sawyer’s eye. “If you could make a list of all of Dr. Danner’s business associates, that would be helpful.”

  Her father’s desk was immaculate, his pencils sharpened, a picture of Mitzy in a silver frame next to one of Kaylin dancing, another of Becca at a high school track meet, and one of Lia with Randy in her lap. It looked as if he’d just stepped out for a moment and would return momentarily.

  But Dad wasn’t coming back. Ever.

  Seeing her father’s empty coffee cup hit her full force as she stepped into the room. Or maybe it was the family pictures that dominated the dark paneled walls. A photo of her parents at a fancy restaurant. One of the entire family at Fort De Soto Park, on the beach, where they all looked tanned and happy. They’d dug for clams, roasted them over a campfire, and spent the night in a tent.

  Her gaze moved to another photograph of her dad and Sawyer fishing. A more recent one of her father in the lab with Mitzy and Billy, who at only sixteen was already several inches taller than his mother. Billy had Mitzy’s coloring, but his dark hair was ragged and showed off several earrings which had recently been a bone of contention. Next to that picture sat her father’s prized possession, a framed engineering blueprint of his first invention, a machine used in paper mills to process paper. The family had lived off the royalties for years. It had been his most successful invention to date. His legacy.

  They certainly hadn’t been rich. But Becca and Kaylin’s babysitting, plus her mother’s jobs and the royalties from her father’s invention, had supported them all through Kaylin’s teens. Unfortunately, the paper process was computerized now, his machine dated, and the royalties had dwindled to almost nothing.

  “Did your father have any arguments with anyone lately?” Deputy Bryant asked. “Did he have business competitors? Another lover? Any enemies?”

  “Nothing like that.” She shook her head and opened the top drawer of his desk, where he kept his laptop. Although they’d already searched here, she tried to keep her impatience toned down. To her it was obvious that foul play was a factor, and though she understood the authorities needed proof, it was difficult to keep her tone even. “Why aren’t you investigating those men I told you about? The foreigners who showed up right before we had the break-in?”

  “We’re working on it, but without names or better descriptions, you haven’t given us much to go on.”

  Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “Actually, Kaylin, Henry did have business competitors.”

  The deputy raised his pen over a pad to begin writing. “You have names?”

  “I’ll make you a list,” Sawyer said.

  “What kind of competitors?” Bryant asked.

  Sawyer shrugged. “There are other biodiesel plants in the area. And also an ethanol plant.”

  “Why would the ethanol plant be a competitor? They sell gasohol—not biodiesel, right?” Kaylin asked.

  “We compete for tanks as well as for government funding. There’s a scarcity of both right now.”

  “Can you tell me more about Dr. Danner’s work?” Bryant asked.

  Sawyer shrugged again. “We were working on a patented process to convert soybean oil into biodiesel.”

  “Would that be profitable?”

  “Yes,” Sawyer said.

  No. But she didn’t say it out loud. Ka
ylin sighed. “The process is unproven, and quite frankly, over the past thirty years my father only had one profitable invention.”

  “But if he’d discovered a new process?” Deputy Bryant asked.

  Sawyer rubbed his temple. “Profitability depends on how efficiently the process works. Many people are turning soybean oil into biodiesel fuel. What matters is how many gallons a minute can be made, the cost of the components, and the quality of the end product.”

  “I think Dad took his laptop with him that morning,” Kaylin said. “That’s why we can’t find it.”

  “But you aren’t sure, right?” Sawyer asked.

  She frowned in thought. “Dad didn’t take it with him every day, only the days he backed up the security footage or when he had a presentation. The day he died . . . I packed his lunch, and I thought I saw him put it in his briefcase. But he did stop here in his office before heading to the lab. I was hoping he’d left it behind, but if he had, we would have found it during our search.”

  Deputy Bryant rubbed his forehead. “We checked the lab site thoroughly. There was no evidence of a laptop, and those things are surprisingly sturdy. Even after the explosion, we should have found pieces. However, the team hasn’t finished sifting through all the evidence we gathered Friday night.” The deputy paused, then asked, “You think your father might have gone somewhere else that day?”

  She shook her head. “Dad rarely left the lab. Once he was at work . . . he was focused. Totally absorbed.”

  “Maybe he put the laptop in his desk?” the deputy suggested.

  “My father kept everything in its place.” Nevertheless, she opened every drawer, searched the closet and a magazine rack next to his coat stand. Nothing.

  Deputy Bryant made a note. “I’ll ask the forensics team again if they found anything. Maybe we’ll luck out and recover a readable hard drive in the unprocessed evidence.”