“Look,” I ground out. “I don’t want to believe this is Del. When I talked to her after the first note, she vehemently denied it.”
“I’ll have a chat with her and see what comes of it.”
He eased to the side as Sandy mounted the steps with an oversized evidence kit almost as large as she was. She whistled in surprise at the orange paint and then got to work without a word.
Cleaver tipped his head, inviting me farther out onto the porch.
“The first note was on Maisey’s car, right?” he asked. “But the second is here at your house. As I hadn’t heard she’d moved in here, I’m wondering if the vandal knew either. Is there a chance these notes are directed at you and not her?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, considering the idea before shaking my head. “If it was directed at me, why not leave the first note on my car at the station?”
In the silence that followed, my irritation grew. If thiswasabout me, I’d be damned if I could understand why. The only choice either Maisey or I had made recently was about the engagement, and I said as much to him.
“You’re applying for the fire chief position, aren’t you?”
I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “Nattingly hasn’t officially retired, so as of right now, the job isn’t available.”
“But you will?”
“Yes.”
Cleaver scratched his chin. “Well, we’ll canvas the neighborhood and see if anyone saw anything unusual. I think the Helmers’ place has a doorbell camera, but that’s pretty far away to have caught anything.”
His attention settled on Lewis’s house. From here, you couldn’t see the residuals of the fire, but he stared at it for far too long before asking, “Anything related to what happened next door?”
It was like a fist hit me in the solar plexus. The fire had been suspicious, but it had happened before Maisey and I had agreed to our fake engagement. There’d been no reason for me to think the choice the notes were talking about had been about anything else.
“Talk to Ron. He’s got some evidence he’s working through. But I can’tsee how it would relate to Maisey and me.” I waved at the door. “The notes seem very personal, and the fire happened before I’d asked her to marry me.”
He gave a curt nod. “I’ll follow up with him. I’d like you and Maisey to put together a list of any and all decisions you’ve made in the past few weeks, no matter how small, and who they might have impacted.”
Cleaver started for the steps but then turned back and landed me with the deadliest look I’d ever seen on the man. “Anyone hurts Maisey more, and I’ll be busting heads.”
I scowled back at him. “You do your job, and she won’t be hurt at all.”
“I’m not just talking about the door, Romero.”
We glowered at each other for a moment.
“Take your pissing contest somewhere else and let me work in peace,” Sandy huffed.
I bit my tongue, stepped around her, and headed inside.
I needed a cold shower. I needed to calm down before I did something stupid.
At the station, on the job, I was usually the coolest one of the bunch. I went into the flames with a clear head and complete concentration. But right now, my emotions churned with such ferocity that I wasn’t sure how to quiet them.
I was angry at whoever was threatening us. Jealous of Cleaver for simply looking at Maisey. Frustrated by my inability to stop the insatiable desire I had to touch her. Strangled by childhood wounds and images of blood-coated wrists that held me in their grips and prevented me from reaching for more.
Prevented me from claiming the person I wanted most.
Prevented me from claiming Maisey for real.
These last thoughts scared the hell out of me far more than words painted on my door ever could.
Chapter Seventeen
Maisey