Her stomach growled but she couldn't eat. She should have just gotten into bed and tried to sleep.
The waitress noticed her untouched plate as she walked by. “Everything all right, honey?”
Maya looked at the woman. The right answer was Yes. Everything's fine, but she'd just been through the day from hell and she didn't have the lie in her. “It's been a long day,” she said softly.
The woman nodded sympathetically. “Had a few of those myself recently.” She held up a finger. “Be right back with something that's bound to perk you up.” Ten seconds later she slid a thick slice of chocolate cream pie in front of Maya. “This ought to help some. Sure as hell is better than a salad anyway.”
It was a nice gesture from a stranger, so Maya played her part by picking up the fork and sliding it into the pie. She forced down a bite and lifted her lips in a grim approximation of a smile.
“There you go.” The woman beamed. “Only thing that can cure a broken heart is chocolate pie. Works every time.”
Maya managed to keep hold of the fork until the waitress passed through the swinging door into the kitchen. It clattered to the table before she threw a twenty down, then slid from the booth and hurried out of the diner.
A broken heart. God, no, that wasn't it at all. Logan hadn't broken her heart. He couldn't have. She would never allow herself to have feelings for a suspect in a million years. No matter how well he kissed. Or how intimate he was with her body. Or how much she wanted him to put his arms around her and hold her.
But even after a long hot shower and an hour of mind-numbing reality TV, she couldn't fall asleep. Not with all the lies she'd been telling herself bumping around together in her head.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE ALARM went off at 5:45 and it took Maya a long moment to figure out where she was. She stumbled into the bathroom, and when she saw her Love Lake Tahoe tank top in the mirror, everything came rushing back.
Recognizing Logan on the mountaintop.
Losing her breath every time he got close.
The horrible, threatening note in her burning hotel room.
Talking about Tony with the fire chief.
And worst of all, Logan's kiss on the beach.
She'd been tired and lonely and scared, all of her defenses down when he'd moved in for the kiss. For the kill. And she'd let him. She'd actually let him kiss her. Be cause she'd wanted it more than anything else, even though she knew she'd regret it—and she did, God, how she regretted it. She hadn't been able to push him away, hadn't been able to stop herself from reaching for him and pulling his hard body against her.
Fortunately, with the new day came clarity. And renewed confidence. She knew how to get his friends and coworkers to talk, knew she'd eventually find someone who was simply dying to dish out his secrets. And then she could make a carefully calculated decision about his guilt … or innocence.
She hurried through a shower, then carefully applied the makeup she kept in her bag. She hadn't slept well and needed to conceal the dark smudges under her eyes and make herself presentable for whatever the day brought her way.
A white truck pulled into the parking lot, jacked up on oversized tires. The driver rolled down the window and stuck his head out. He looked to be Logan's age and sported a goatee. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
“You Maya Jackson?” He grinned at her as she walked down the stairs and shook his hand. “Dennis. Nice to meet you.” He hooked a thumb toward the diner. “Mind if we get a quick cup of coffee before we head up? Late night last night. You know how it is.”
No, she didn't. She didn't do late nights anymore, didn't want to bother acting like she was having fun with a guy when she simply didn't care. But he was the pilot, not her, so she said, “Sure, that's fine,” even though every second of daylight she lost was one more opportunity for Logan to track her down and stick to her like glue.
Dennis held the door open for her and she stepped inside, waiting patiently while he ordered two coffees to go. She really didn't want one, knew the strong black brew would only make her nauseous on an empty stomach, but she took the cup from him anyway.
Country music blared from the radio as they pulled out of the parking lot. “So what brings you to town?”
Whenever possible, Maya liked to move under the radar. The less people knew about what she was doing, the more they talked. “I've heard people call Lake Tahoe the eighth wonder of the world. Thought I'd check it out for myself.”
“Got any part of the lake you'd like to head toward first?”
She shook her head. “Actually, I'd like to head out over the mountains, if you don't mind.”
He gave her a funny look. “That's the first time anyone's ever asked to do that. I mean, the trees are nice-looking and all, but are you sure you don't just want to head out over the lake instead? It's real pretty, especially this time of year.”
“Maybe later, thanks.”
He turned into the airstrip's lot and pulled up beside a helicopter. She took a deep breath. Helicopters weren't her favorite mode of transportation, especially given that it was bound to be a choppy ride over the fire as hot pockets of air flipped the small aircraft around like an ember. As always, she was struck by how small the aircraft was, even with room for three passengers and a pilot. As she climbed in, her elbows knocked into the door. The bubble front window went floor to ceiling, wrapping around them head to toe. She clipped on her seat belt and put on the headphones he handed her.
The radio was hopping with a steady stream of voices arranging for gear to be hauled in and out along with one bucket drop after another.
“I knew there was a fire going, but I didn't realize it was this far along,” Dennis commented as the rotors started spinning. “You still want to head over the mountains? It might be hard to see much with all that smoke.”
She nodded as they lifted into the air. “I'm sure it will be fascinating.”
“Man,” he said, “it looks like a mother of a fire. I know most of those guys out there, actually.”
She shifted in her seat to look more carefully at him. “You do?”
“Yeah, my dad was a hotshot. You know, one of those superhero dudes who puts out deadly wildfires.”
She nodded and said, “Wow, that sounds intense.”