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tried to convince poor Bernard that she had to speak
     with you about something.” Trent chuckled. “From the way she avoided you after dinner,
     I’m guessing she’s exaggerating about your blossoming relationship.”
    Max glanced over at her. Blonde hair whipping around her face, Jamie stood there with
     her hands clenched. With the way she was shifting her weight from foot to foot, she
     had something important to tell him. “I’ll speak with her.”
    As he took a step to face her, his left knee and thigh sent out a stabbing ache from
     where he’d landed after the blast, and he worked hard to suppress a groan.
    “I can get rid of her if you want,” Trent offered. The detective must have misinterpreted
     his grimace.
    “I got this. I’ll chat with her over there.” It was a mud bath where they stood.
    Not only did he want to know what she had to say, he wanted to make sure she was okay.
     Trent had told him about the clinic break-in last night.
    Max recalled his last conversation with her. After an enjoyable meal with the rest
     of the wedding party, he and Jamie had gone for a short walk. While they were chatting
     outside the owner’s farmhouse, he’d come at her with some very sensitive questions
     about her plans to get her life on track. No surprise, Jamie immediately retreated
     into her shell. He never should have pushed her so hard. Stupid, stupid. His dating skills really needed work.
    He turned to Rich. “I’ll be right back.”
    Walking toward her, Max couldn’t help but notice how her jacket was several sizes
     too big. For a split second, he was tempted to drag her to breakfast just to make
     sure she had a good meal, but she’d accuse him of pity, and he of all people knew
     about that emotion.
    When he neared, she planted her hands on her hips as if she was pissed that Bernard
     hadn’t allowed her to cross the yellow crime scene tape. There was a reason for it
     being there. Not only might the soles of her nursing shoes suffer some damage walking
     over the occasional hot ember, crime scenes were off limits to civilians. If they
     weren’t, there’d be no need for the tape.
    “Jamie? Nice to hear I’m your boyfriend. I guess you’ve forgiven me for my attempt
     to push my values on you.” He hoped she took his comment as a quasi-apology. When
     her serious expression didn’t change, he smiled to help put her at ease.
    She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry about lying. I had to make sure I could
     speak with you.”
    Her desperate tone sobered him. “I’m listening.”
    “I want to know about Jonathan Rambler.” Her gaze bored into him as if she were trying
     to extract all of the information in his head.
    The name wasn’t familiar. “And he would be?”
    Her eyes widened, and he thought he caught a glimpse of hope. “He was the homeless
     man who often sits on the steps in front of this building. Larry said he was the one
     burned in the fire.”
    Larry? He could be the vagrant from across the street Max had seen this morning. “Is
     Jonathan a friend of yours?” He hoped he wasn’t someone more important.
    After finding an old mattress, some cans, and a heap of old clothes stashed in the
     building, the burned victim appeared to be homeless. Given her caregiver nature, Max
     wouldn’t be surprised if she’d become friends with the man on her way to and from
     work.
    “Yes.”
    “Then you know he lived in this abandoned warehouse?” Max was fishing for confirmation, but she didn’t have
     to know that.
    “I suspected.” Her slight hesitation implied she’d never been a guest inside Jonathan’s
     humble abode.
    Max saw no harm in telling her what she wanted to know. All she had to do was go to
     the hospital and find out for herself. “I’m still investigating, so I’m not at liberty
     to divulge all the details, but from what I can tell, your friend, Jonathan, was asleep
     when the building caught fire. By the time the flames reached his side, a piece