Wait. A. Minute.
“Sure,” said Gabriel, feeling his heartbeat settle. He stood back and held the door open. “Come on in the kitchen. Mike’s in the shower. You want a soda or something?”
He practically shoved her into a chair with a can of Pepsi, then left her there with the reasoning that he should warn Michael a girl was in the house, before he came down the stairs in his boxers or something.
That would really make her blush.
Gabriel took the steps two at a time, just as Michael was coming out of his bedroom. His hair was wet and trailed over his shoulders, and he was wearing a pair of faded sweatpants and an ancient T-shirt that looked like he might have stolen it off a homeless guy.
Gabriel shoved him in the shoulder. “Go hit your face with a razor or something. God, would it kill you to shave more than once a week?”
Michael pushed past him. “I’m not sure the pizza guy will give a crap—”
“No, idiot,” Gabriel hissed. “That Hannah chick is here. Put some decent clothes on. Here”—he stepped around Michael, into his bedroom—“I’ll help you.”
He started yanking open drawers to Michael’s dresser. Worn jeans, old T-shirts, faded sweatshirts.
“This is pathetic,” he said.
Michael hadn’t moved from the doorway, his expression bemused. “You know what I do for a living.”
“And why aren’t you shaving yet? Don’t you care that a girl is here to see you?”
His brother hesitated. “Look. Gabriel. I’m not—”
“Forget it. You can wear one of my shirts.”
Now Michael gave him a look. “Like your shirt will fit me.”
Gabriel stopped in the doorway. “First, jackass, don’t flatter yourself. And second, don’t you know anything about girls?”
Michael just stared at him.
“For god’s sake.” Gabriel walked down the hallway to his own room, grabbed a slate-gray crewneck T-shirt, and brought it back. He flung it at Michael. “That’s the whole point.”
Gabriel had plates on the table and was serving Hannah a slice of pizza by the time Michael appeared in the doorway. He’d shaved and pulled his hair back, and he was wearing the gray T-shirt with jeans that didn’t look too beat up. And yeah, maybe the shirt was a little too tight across the chest, but his brother didn’t look like a freak or anything.
It was better than looking like an angry serial killer.
Hannah seemed to appreciate it, anyway. She gave him a small smile.
“Hey,” Michael said from the doorway. He barely stepped into the kitchen, looking awkward.
So they were off to a rousing start.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner and everything—”
“There’s plenty,” said Michael. He still hadn’t sat down.
This was ridiculous. Gabriel shoved a plate in his direction. “Hannah said she wanted to talk about the other night.”
At least that got Michael’s attention. He pulled a chair back and dropped into it. “Yeah?” Only now he sounded pissed. “Is Gabriel in trouble?”
“No!” Hannah looked startled. “I just—”
“You just what?”
God, it was like his brother had a time limit before he had to start acting like an asshole. Gabriel gave him a look over the top of her head. Shut up, he mouthed. Be nice.
Hannah pushed her hair back from her face and sighed. She hadn’t even touched her pizza. “Look, I shouldn’t be here. It’s unofficial, okay? I just wanted to ask if you’d seen anything the other night, in the woods.”
Gabriel dropped into his own chair, wondering how careful he needed to be. “No. Like I said, just fire.”
“No people?”
He shook his head and picked up his slice of pizza.
“Why?” asked Michael.
“Because there have been a lot of fires lately.” She paused. “And the fire marshal suspects arson. Did you hear about the fire over on Linden Park Lane last night?”
Gabriel shrugged and picked up his slice. “I go to school with the guy who lives there.”
“He’s lucky to be alive. They all are. A girl was trapped, but someone got her out.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow and tried to sound skeptical. “ ‘Someone’?”
Jesus. He sounded guilty as hell. He shoved more pizza into his mouth. It tasted like cardboard.
He should have kept his mouth shut. Michael was staring at him now.
Hannah shook her head. “We were all in the front yard, and whoever got her out, went in through the back.” She scowled. “The press is having a great time with this. We would have kept it out of the papers, but the mom talked. Now it’s all out there—the unusual burn patterns, the way the girl escaped down the laundry chute, the mysterious ‘hero.’ ”
Her voice was full of disdain, but Gabriel was stuck on the mom. He could still remember the way she’d grabbed him around the neck, the way she’d sobbed her thanks.
He dropped his pizza onto the plate and cleared his throat. “So you think someone is starting the fires just to save people?”
“No.” She paused for a long moment, and her voice dropped. “Yesterday one of the other firehouses lost a fireman. We’re just trying to stop this guy before he kills anyone else.”
Gabriel’s appetite was entirely gone.
He wished he’d gotten there fifteen minutes earlier. Maybe he could have saved that guy, too.
At the same time, he wished he’d never gotten involved.
“I told you,” he said woodenly. “I didn’t see anyone.”
He could still feel Michael watching him.
His cell phone chimed. Gabriel grabbed it, glad for an excuse to look away.
Layne. Please be Layne.
No. Hunter.
Fire at 116 Winterbourne. In?
Gabriel stared at the display. Then he texted back.
Don’t have the car.
Hunter’s reply was lightning quick.
Pick U up in 5.
Gabriel shoved the phone into his pocket and realized Hannah and Michael were both staring at him now. He scraped his chair back. “I’m going out.” He glanced at Hannah. “Sorry I couldn’t help you.”
“Where?” said Michael.
“With Hunter,” he said, going through the doorway.
“Where?”
“Out,” he called back. He grabbed his backpack. “Remember, you told me to make friends.”
CHAPTER 16
Last night’s fire had wanted to play. This one was a raging wall of hot fury. Gabriel stood beside Hunter in the shadows of the neighbor’s storage shed and felt the power wash over him.
The entire upstairs of the split-level was consumed, flames blazing through shattered windowpanes. Winterbourne Way was one of those residential neighborhoods that took two weeks to build, where each house had exactly a quarter of an acre of land and everything looked identical.
Except this one would look like a charred mess in the morning.
Three fire trucks lined the road out front, firefighters and EMTs scurrying around in the front yard.
No one was screaming tonight. He couldn’t even hear smoke detectors.
The fire was making him jittery, like the fury was seeping into his skin and begging him to throw a punch or something.