He shrugged that off. “I can read and I listen to the news. Besides, between the sign, the internet and your mention of Homeland Security, I’d have to be an ostrich not to come to that conclusion.”
“Of course.”
He’d made her wary again. Damn it. She was a smart woman and she must be picking up on more than his ability to connect a few dots between the details she had started to confide. “If you have questions for me I’ll answer them.” With the cover story, of course. This entire operation was about keeping her safe. To do that, he had to gain her trust.
She tore her gaze from the fire to study him. “I believe you would.” She opened the door. “But those questions will have to wait.”
He tagged along as she marched toward the fire chief supervising the process of dousing the flames. The fire chief kept her at a safe distance and, after a brief exchange, urged her toward the other cops who’d been unwillingly evicted from the police station. But she didn’t move, remaining apart and scowling at the blaze lapping along the roof.
“Did he tell you anything?”
“Only that they’ll have it contained shortly.”
“Good to know.”
Her fury was obvious. What she intended to do about it, not so much. She didn’t need speculation or suggestions from the new guy in town. He couldn’t decide what to do, other than his job. “I’ll take you home when you’re ready.”
“I’m not going anywhere until the building is secure.”
“I figured as much.”
She finally pulled her gaze away from the fire. “You don’t have to wait. One of the officers can take me home.”
“Waiting isn’t a problem.”
After another minute or two, she stalked over to the officers who’d been ousted from their building. Riley stayed put, having a pretty good idea of how that conversation would go. Instead of following her, which felt a little clingy and intrusive, he scanned the bystanders, looking for anything remotely suspicious. Spotting Mr. Filmore standing on the other side of the fire trucks, he headed that way.
“Hello, Mr. Filmore,” he said, hand extended.
The man squinted at him from behind his glasses. “Who—? Oh. You’re that decorator fellow.”
“That’s me.” Riley pushed his hands into his pockets, not surprised that Mr. Filmore refused to shake hands. People didn’t come wound any tighter than the man who obsessed about the historic accuracy of every snowflake in Belclare.
“Why are you here?”
Riley wanted to ask him the same question. “I was grabbing dinner at the pub and heard the commotion.” No sense giving him any ammunition to use against Abby later.
“Were you in the building?”
“Yes, of course,” Filmore said, wringing his hands. “I had another issue to discuss with Chief Jensen.”
“Is everything settled with the welcome sign?” It had been on the project board for this afternoon, but Riley had been with a different team at the park.
“As much as can be expected,” Filmore groused. “She has to do something!” He turned abruptly, the fire and emergency lights casting grim shadows across his pinched features. “This eyesore is intolerable.”
Exactly what did the man think Abby should do? Apologize to the criminals and terrorists? Grab a fire hose? “You’ll be surprised how fast we can clean things up. I’ll pitch in. Will you?”
Filmore ignored him. “This season is doomed to fail. Belclare may never recover.”
“The rest of the town looks fantastic,” Riley said. “I bet Chief Jensen is already planning how to keep everyone safe for Saturday’s opening.”
“I know your type,” Filmore said, shifting to put himself toe-to-toe with Riley. “Every year it takes more of you than last year. You say the right things, but you don’t care.”
Riley opened his mouth, but Filmore was on a roll.
“That building is eighty years old. I’ve personally overseen every so-called improvement of the past twenty-some years.” The garish lights emphasized Filmore’s wild eyes. “This is an unmitigated disaster all because of her!” He flung his arm in Abby’s direction. “She talks safety but she’s a hypocrite. That building does not deserve to suffer.”
The man was starting to sound a little warped to Riley. “Take it easy, Mr. Filmore.”
“Take it easy? She is single-handedly destroying this town.”
Riley fought the urge to put the man out of everyone’s misery. Two quiet punches and Mr. Filmore could rethink his priorities while his body learned how to function again.