---

Seth just stood there, staring at him. "Philip, why would you do something like that? You know how Nate feels about our folks. I remember telling you myself."

Phillip just shrugged. "They gave birth to him, and that gives them the right to know. Maybe now he'll quite being such a spoiled brat about the whole thing, and they'll be able to forgive him."

Brandon was across the room in two seconds, his hands around Patterson's throat. He'd been walking a fine line of self-control since Nate's near-miss, but he'd finally reached his limit.

"You arrogant little bastard. You're going to get what's coming to you."

Nate started to get up, his legs still shaky. "Put him down, Brandon. I need you."

Bran dropped Phillip and rushed to Nate's side. "Baby, you shouldn't be out of bed. Dr. Rinehart said you should have bed rest for another week, at least."

"You can't hurt him, Bran. He's not worth it. I'll have to face them eventually, anyway. Might as well be done with it."

Bran helped him back under the covers, doing his best to be gentle despite the rage swirling inside him. "Fine, but I want him out of our house. Now."

Another set of footsteps sounded on the stairs. Mike came into the room, frowning at his wife. "Amy, what the hell is going on?"

She looked up through watery eyes. "Mike, what are you doing here?"

He crouched down beside her. "I could ask you the same question. I came home early to take care of you, but you were gone. I should have known you'd be here with Nate. What I want to know is, why?"

When Amy was done giving him the abbreviated version, Mike whistled. "Damn, that's tough. I wish we could stay and help, buddy, but Amy needs to be at home, resting."

"Take her home and make sure she gets plenty of fluids, Mike." Nate gave Amy a grateful smile. "Thanks for the heads up, doll."

She blew him a kiss, then spoiled the effect by coughing. She waved and Mike hustled her out.

Gale reached in her pocket and handed Megan her cell phone. "Here, sweetie. You call your sisters and I'll get on the phone downstairs and call your father and the boys."

Nate said, "Gale, that isn't necessary, really."

"Nonsense. You need your family around you, and that's what you're going to have." She gave Phillip a scathing once over. "I suggest you pack your bags, young man. I believe you've worn out your welcome."

As Phillip left, Seth turned to go, too. Nate said, "Seth, you don't have to leave."

He gave Nate a sad smile. "I care about him, Nate. I know he's kinda hard to take, but he didn't leave me when I told him about the rape, so how can I leave him just because he makes a mistake?"

Brandon couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Surely you don't think just because you were raped you don't deserve the same love and affection as everybody else."

Seth looked down at his feet. When he didn't respond, Nate said, "Look, don't leave. You and Phillip can stay here. Please, Seth, you'll be going back to school in a few days, anyway." He turned to Brandon with eyes so desperate, Bran knew he'd lost the battle.

"Fine, Patterson can stay. Just keep him away from me."

Seth nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

Brandon hauled Nate into his arms and held him close. "You don't have to do this, Nate. I'll meet them at the door with my twelve gauge if I have to."

Nate settled deeper into the blankets. "I'm not afraid of them anymore, Bran. As long as I have you, I know that my life is complete. I don't need their approval to make me whole. At the same time, though, I want them to know about us. If they're serious about a reconciliation, they have to know that you and I come as a package deal."

Brandon pushed a pillow up under Nate's broken arm to better support it. "What if they give you a replay of your little coming out party?"

Nate shrugged as best he could with his right arm immobilized. "It won't matter. At the end of the night, I know you're not going to run out on me like Rick did." He opened his eyes and gave Bran that slow smile of his. "You're mine, and I intend to tell them that. Seth keeps telling me how much they've changed. I guess now's their chance to prove it."

Bran kissed his forehead and got up. "I'm going downstairs to talk strategy with General Mom. Try to get some sleep. I've got the painkillers Dr. Rinehart prescribed. Yell if you need one."

"I will. Amy said they're coming in on the four-thirty flight. Do you think you could help me grab a shower before they get here?"

"No showers. I'm not about to take the chance of you slipping and falling on that wet tile. If you're real persuasive, though, I think I could be talked into giving you a bath."

Nate fell asleep smiling.

* * *

He woke at three, his body rested but his mind on full alert. Brandon came in a few minutes later and filled the master bathroom's claw foot tub. He wrapped Nate's cast with Saran wrap and undressed him with aching care. When Nate was naked, Bran held him around the waist and eased him into the hot water. Nate relaxed against the back of the tub while Brandon washed him. The caresses were loving, not sexual, which was exactly what Nate needed at that moment. After giving the hot water a chance to do its magic, Bran pulled him to his feet and helped him out onto the plush mat. He wrapped Nate in a thick towel and led him back to the bedroom.

Brandon opened one of the double-dresser drawers and removed a pair of Nate's soft cotton boxers.

"When did you move all my stuff in here?"

Bran helped him slide the boxers in place. "Yesterday, after we talked about our sleeping arrangements. I got your suitcase out of what was left of your car and moved everything in here. Amazing, but none of your clothes even got dirty." He grinned. "I kinda like the thought of your underwear laying in the drawer next to mine. It's sexy."

"You are such a horn-dog."

Bran pulled some sweatpants out of another drawer and handed them over. "Is that a complaint?"

Nate eased the sweats up and kept the drawstring loose on his bruised stomach. "Of course not. My only complaint is that I'm too banged up to take advantage of it."

Brandon leered at him. "Don't worry, baby. You won't be an invalid forever. When you heal up, your ass is mine, figuratively and literally."

Nate was quiet for a minute, a question he'd been wanting to ask for days now burning in his mind. He sat down on the bed and said, "Bran, can I ask you something really personal?"

Brandon continued rummaging through the dresser. "Honey, I had your dick in my mouth less than twenty-four hours ago. I think it's safe to say you can ask me anything."

"I know that, but it's about you and your past uh. . .lovers."

Brandon closed one drawer and opened another. "Nate, we're going to be married. No question is too personal for you to ask me." He turned around and smiled at the sight of Nate's red cheeks. "How did you live to the ripe old age of twenty-eight, become a doctor, no less, and still be so shy about sex?"

Nate shook his head. "It just wasn't that important to me until you came along. I mean, I was attracted to Rick, but I didn't feel like jumping him every time he walked into the room like I want to with you."

"I'm glad to know I'm responsible for waking all those latent hormones." He pulled a shirt out of the dresser, looked it over, and put it back. "So what's this question that's making you so nervous?"

"You know all about my sexual experience, because every bit of what little I have came from you. I was just wondered how many guys you've been with."

Brandon rejected yet another shirt. "I guess it depends on your definition of 'been' with. If you're asking me how many I guys I've played around with, jacking off and oral sex included, I couldn't tell you. But if you're asking me how many men I've had actual intercourse with, then the answer is four." When Nate said nothing, only nodded, Bran said, "That isn't all you wanted to know, is it?"

"No, but I'm having a hard time talking about this with you."

"Just say it, babe."

"Well, when you were with those guys, did you do them, or did they do you?" He could see Bran's smile in the mirror above the dresser.

"Are you asking me if I topped or bottomed?"

Nate was embarrassed enough to slide through the cracks in the wood flooring. "Yes. I can understand if you don't want to talk about your old boyfriends, but see. . .the thing is, if you want to top me, I know I could do that. I mean, you'd be doing most of the work. But if you want me to be the top, I have to tell you, Bran, I don't know the first thing about how to do it. I've seen porno movies, of course, but it's not like I was really studying the technique those guys used. If you want me to make love to you, I'll try, but I'm scared I'll do it wrong."

Bran found what he was looking for and closed the dresser, shirt in hand. He sat down on the bed next to Nate.

"To answer your question, I'll have to give you a brief summary of my past relationships. See, each one was different. With my first boyfriend, Joel, we were both so new to sex, we wanted to try everything. We took turns pitching and catching, but I don't think either one of us would win any awards for our attempts. I always thought sex just came naturally, but apparently it doesn't. I figured maybe gays were the only ones who had to fumble around trying to figure things out, but Keith told me later that his first time was a complete disaster, too. Anyway, Joel and I just sort of did whatever felt good at the time. After Joel, I dated Daniel, another guy from school. He was a total top. We only did it once, and he hurt me so bad I swore I'd never do it again. That vow lasted until I met Charlie, one of the guys at the F.B.I. academy. He liked it both ways, and he finally convinced me to let him top me. Daniel had me so wary, I almost freaked, but Charlie was great about the whole thing. When all was said and done, I realized I liked both roles about the same. Charlie took an assignment down in Florida which ended our relationship, but we were never really more than fuck buddies, anyway. Not long after he left, I met Jeff."

"Jeff was funny about a lot of things, but none more so than sex. He absolutely refused to do anything except bottom. He used to get downright hostile if I ever even suggested his being the top. It wasn't until I caught him doing those twinks that I realized why."

"See, in Jeff's mind, he wasn't cheating as long as he topped those other guys. He told me when I left him that I was the only guy he ever allowed to do him. He thought if he saved that privilege for me alone, I would overlook his extracurricular activities. Imagine his surprise when I told him to go to hell." He smoothed his fingers over a large bruise on Nate's left side. "Nate, I've fucked and I've been fucked, but I'd never made love until yesterday when I took you into my mouth. Don't get me wrong. I intend to fuck you up one side and down the other, but even then, every touch, every stroke, will be filled with pure love. That's why everything between us is new to me, too. I want to feel you inside me almost as much as I want to be inside you. We'll go at your pace, and anything you don't like, we don't have to do again. Does that make you feel a little better?"

Nate leaned his head against Bran's shoulder. "It does. I guess all this stress is finally catching up with me. I'll be glad when you and I can settle into a normal life together."

"I can't promise you a normal life until I catch the bastard behind all this. I can promise to take care of you, starting with the reunion between you and your parents." He held up the t-shirt he had in his hands. It was gray, with the F.B.I. insignia printed on it. Brandon stood up and pulled the shirt over Nate's head. "I wore this shirt when I was training with the Bureau. I always felt like it gave me luck. It may not bring you any luck when your parents get here, but I thought you might like to wear it, anyway."

Nate worked the right sleeve over his cast. "I'm not sure I believe in luck, but I do want to wear it. I think it's sexy, knowing that I'm wearing my fiancé's shirt."

"Me too, babe. Listen, it looks like war room central down there. Every immediate family member within a hundred miles has been deployed to our living room. Well, except for Keith, Maria, and their kids, but they'll be here as soon as Keith's shift at the hospital ends. I'm surprised Mom didn't call my brothers home from school or ask Grandma and Grandpa Nash to fly in from Florida."

"It was nice of all of them just to drop what they were doing and come all the way over here, but it isn't necessary. I'm a grown man. I have to learn to fight my own battles sometime."

Brandon helped him pull the shirt the rest of the way on. "Not in this family, you don't. You're a Nash now. Nash's stand up for each other." He bent down and pulled white crew socks onto Nate's feet.

"You keep spoiling me like this and I'm going to become accustomed to being waited on. What are you going to do if I decide to lie on my butt all day and eat chocolate?"

"Same thing I'm going to do if you don't. Fuck you senseless."

Nate shivered at just the thought. "God, I can't wait until you do."

Brandon leaned forward and gently steered Nate back against the pillows. "Honey, you're breathing too hard, and I don't think it's because of what I just said. That bath wore you out. Let me get you beneath the covers and then you can rest until your parents get here. Seth and Mr. Wonderful are going to pick them up at the airport. With any luck, Philip will get booked on a one-way flight to India."

* * *

Brandon sat downstairs in the living room, awaiting the new arrivals. He was glad his entire family was here. Even Grandma and Grandpa Taylor were upstairs in one of the spare rooms taking an afternoon nap. Having so many loved ones close was a great comfort to Bran. He was sure it would take the lot of them to keep him from killing Nate's father if he tried to hurt him again.

His sister Alicia handed her one-year-old daughter, Emily, to her husband Garth and plopped down on the couch beside Bran. Alicia had the same fiery red hair as Megan, but her eyes were green like Grandma Nash's instead of blue like Meggie's. She was short, like all the Nash women, but she had a commanding presence that made her one of the top prosecutors in Chicago.

"Mom told me that Nate is going to change his name after the wedding. Is he cute or what?"

"After the way his father treated him, can you blame the guy?" This came from Wayne, who was sitting in a recliner with his wife, Stacy, in his lap and their three boys, Will, Garret, and Ben, stretched out on the floor playing a board game.

His sister Maxine shook her head, her black curls bobbing as she talked. "Well, that was before. No way is he going to hurt Nate again. Nate belongs to us now." She looked to her husband Steve for approval, but he was too busy trying to keep their two-year-old twin daughters from riding Sasha to answer.

Brandon's dad came in from the kitchen, Gale by his side. "Just remember, we're going to give the Morris's the benefit of the doubt. People can change, you know." Gale nodded in agreement, but Brandon thought she looked doubtful.

"I'll be polite simply because they're Nate's parents, but one homophobic comment and they're out of here."

Sasha lifted her ears to the sound of an engine. Bran looked out and saw Seth pulling into the drive. "They're here. Mom, will you go upstairs and wake Nate, please."

"Of course, honey. Should I help him downstairs?"

"No, he's too weak for that. I'll take the Morris's upstairs. You guys can wait down here if you want, just as long as you come running to the sounds of glass breaking or flesh hitting flesh." Brandon said it with a smile, but he was only half joking.

He heard the opening of the back door and the echoing of voices in the mudroom. He could hear what sounded like an argument.

Seth said, "I'm telling you right now, he won't agree to it."

A heavily accented voice drawled, "If he's as hurt as you say he is, he has no choice. Nathan needs to be taken care of. Who better to do that than his mother and me? Who else is going to do it, his lover? No, Nathan is coming home with us, and that's final, even if I have to force him."

Brandon closed his eyes and tried counting to ten, but it didn't work. He was mad enough to go in there and throw that old fart out on his ass. He would have if Dean hadn't reached over and grabbed his arm.

"Steady, son. You can handle this without bloodshed."

The argument in the other room continued. Bran could see Nate's father coming through the kitchen. He was almost as tall as Brandon, but the spare tire around his middle made him seem shorter. He had brown eyes, but they were dull, not vibrate like Nate's. His thinning hair was a yellowed white. He was about the same age as Brandon's dad, but where Dean looked younger due to hard work and effort, Calder Morris was definitely showing his age.

Seth was still trying to reason with his father, but Bran could have told him it was a loosing battle.

"Dad, there's no way in hell you're going to take Nate out of this house."

"Really? And just who is going to stop me?"

As Bran stepped into the kitchen, Seth nudged his father. "I believe you're looking at him, Dad."

Brandon forced his tone to be civil, but his words were harsh. "I'm Brandon Nash, and you aren't taking Nate anywhere he doesn't want to go."

Calder gave Brandon his most intimidating boardroom scowl, but Bran didn't even flinch.

"I'm here to see my son."

Brandon leaned against the kitchen doorframe. "From what I just heard, you're here to fetch him, not see him."

"Now see here-"

A slender woman with silvery blonde hair and Nate's eyes stepped up next to Calder. "Calder, calm down. This young man didn't say we couldn't see Nathan."

Brandon shook his head. "No, I won't stop you from seeing him, but only because Nate has agreed to it. What I will do is whatever it takes to keep you from upsetting him. Nate nearly died from blood loss not five days ago. He's weak and fragile, and if you hurt him, you'll answer to me."

Calder looked ready to argue, but his wife obviously had more sense. "And we would expect no less from the man Nathan has chosen. I'm Leda Morris, and I'd be grateful if you'd take us to Nathan."

Gale came back downstairs. "Nate's awake and ready to see his folks."

Bran turned to his mother. "Is he alright?"

Gale gave the Morris's an icy stare. "No, but I hope he will be soon."

Brandon didn't say a word. He started towards the stairs, leaving the Morris's to follow.

* * *

Nate heard three sets of feet on the stairs and knew his time was up. The first face he saw was Brandon's. He stuck his head in the door and gave Nate a tentative smile.

"You ready for this, sweetheart?"

"No, but I'll do it anyway."

Brandon nodded and opened the door wider, allowing the Morris's to enter. Nate's first thought when he saw them was how much older they looked. His father had more stomach and less hair, but it was his mother's appearance that bothered him the most. Leda Morris was still a lovely woman, but she looked older, more fragile.

Nate propped himself up on his pillows. "Mom, Dad, come on in and have a seat."

Calder stayed where he was, but Leda came forward. "Nathan it's. . .it's good to see you, son. Your father and I were so worried when we heard about your accident. I must say, I was envisioning much worse."

Calder stepped up to the bed. "For God's sake Leda, the boy has a cast on his arm, stitches in his head, and a bruise on every visible part of his body. How much worse do you want him to look?"

Leda never took her eyes off her son. Nate saw the tears well in the corner of her eyes. "He looks wonderful to me," she whispered. Nate had no choice. He raised his left arm, tensing as his mother rushed to him.

Leda was a slight woman, but it didn't stop her from hugging the daylights out of Nate. When he grunted, she pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to mash your bruises. It's just so good to hold you again, Nathan."

Nate brushed at the moisture in his own eyes. "You too, Mama. You look great."

"Nathan Morris, your mama did not raise you to lie. I know how dreadful I look, but none of that matters now. I'm here, with you. That's all I've prayed for every night for six years."

Nate looked around for Brandon and saw him still standing by the door. "Come over here, Bran. Have you guys been properly introduced yet?"

Calder said, "If by properly, you mean being met at the door, threatened, and almost refused entrance to see our own son, then I suppose we have."

Nate ignored the sarcasm in his father's voice, a habit acquired over long years of practice. He said, "Well, just in case, allow me. Calder and Leda Morris, I'd like you to meet my fiancé, Brandon Nash."

Leda's smile made her look a good ten years younger. "A wedding? You're going to have a wedding? When?"

Nate felt the tight knot of tension in his stomach start to loosen. "We really haven't had much of a chance to plan, but we're hoping to take our vows in about three months."

Calder came to stand behind his wife. "There is no way in hell you are going to marry this man in three months, Nathan."

Nate felt all the blood drain from his face. He'd been hopeful, especially after his mother's reaction, but it was obvious his father hadn't changed. Nate hadn't realized just how much he was hoping for a reconciliation until now. Still, he would hear his father out. If this was the last time he was to talk to him, he would allow Calder to say his peace.

Brandon was about to say something, but Nate held up his hand. "And why is that, Daddy?"

Calder said, "Because, you are my oldest son, and there is absolutely no way I'm going to have you married in some last ditch, thrown together ceremony. Your mother and I are going to see this thing done right. It takes at least six months to put together a proper wedding. We have to print the invitations, arrange the music, call the caterers, and so on and so forth." He looked to his wife for help. "Tell him, Leda."

Leda nodded, her smile even more radiant than before. "He's right, Nathan. When your father and I got married, it took eight months just to make all the arrangements, and that was with both our mothers working together."

Nate barely heard her. He was too stunned by what his father had just said. "Did you mean it, Daddy?"

Calder gave the first smile he'd given since arriving. "Of course I meant it. We're going to do this thing right. When your children-" He stopped and looked at Brandon. "I'm assuming the two of you plan to adopt?" When Bran nodded, he continued. "When your children are older, they'll want to know all about their fathers' wedding. You'll want to have some grand tales to tell them. I don't want my grandchildren to think their parents got married in some tacky two-bit service."

Nate said, "So, you want me to have children now?"

"Of course. Your mother and I aren't getting any younger, son. It's about time you settled down and started a family."

God help him, but Nate wanted to believe his father was telling the truth. One part of him though, the part that was nearly destroyed six years ago, refused to give up that easily. "Aren't you afraid I'll molest them. Six years ago, you accused me of being some kind of deviant child predator."

Calder shifted uncomfortably. "We all make mistakes, Nathan. I've come here looking for forgiveness."

Nate looked to Bran, but he shrugged. "It's your call, babe. I'm behind you, no matter what."

He nodded. "I'm willing to try, Dad."

A gleam sprang into Calder's eyes. "That's all I ask, son. That's all I ask."

* * *

Bran came downstairs to find his father surrounded by a throng of grandchildren, all enthralled by one of his many stories. The funny part was, his brothers and sisters, all of whom had heard that same story a hundred times, were just as wrapped up as the kids. His mother saw him and excused herself from the group. They walked into the kitchen away from the others. Bran pulled out a chair for Gale and sat down at the table opposite her.

"How did it go with Nate's parents?"

Bran folded his hands on top of the table and looked his mother right in the eye. "It was perfect, Mom. It couldn't have gone any better if the whole thing had been written down on paper."

"In other words, it was too perfect."

"Exactly. Nate's mother seems genuine enough. It's his father I don't trust. I just can't see the guy who wanted to have Nate sterilized for fear he'd reproduce and pimp out his kids suddenly having this immense change of heart. Not so much so that he's up there right now helping Nate plan out our wedding. It just doesn't gel."

Gale played devil's advocate. "People can change, Brandon. Seth did. I have no doubt his feelings for Nate are real."

Since Gale knew all about the attack that led to Seth and Nate's estrangement, Bran was sure she would understand his next point. "Neither do I, Mom, but Seth had very real reasons for feeling like he did. Even if you go on the theory that Calder was so traumatized by Seth's attack that he turned on Nate, it doesn't explain why he didn't want to see the son-of-a-bitch that raped his son prosecuted. Hell, he didn't even take the kid to the hospital, not to mention that shrink he sent Seth to who tried to convince him he wasn't gay. No, that man is a bigot. I would bet my last dollar on it. And you know as well as I do that a bigot doesn't change without some type of heavy intervention."

Gale smiled and patted his folded hands. "Sometimes I forget you have a degree in psychology. For what it's worth, I agree with you. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"At the moment, nothing. Nate wants to give his folks another chance, and if I interfere, he might end up resenting me for it later on. I love him too damn much to let that happen. If Calder does have an ulterior motive, he'll tip his hat eventually. When he does, I'll be waiting."

The phone rang before Gale had a chance to comment. Bran grabbed the kitchen extension. "Nash."

Sam sounded out of breath. "Sorry to bother you, Bran. I know you'd planned to spend the rest of the day with Doc Morris, but this is an emergency. We've had another fire."

"Fuck!" Bran gripped the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. "Who was it this time?"

"Marjorie Newman. Her book store was a total loss. That's not the worst part, though. She was inside the building when the fire started. Marjorie always closes right at five, no matter what. At six o'clock, when she still hadn't come home, Eva went looking for her. She got there just in time to see the windows blow out. The medics pulled Marjorie out about twenty-minutes ago and sent her to Chicago General. The Fire Department is on the scene now, but I haven't received word on Marjorie's condition."

"I don't suppose the fire marshal has found anything, yet."

"No, and he may not. The last fire was ruled inconclusive as to origin. Marjorie might be able to help us, if she makes it.

Brandon glanced at the clock. It was six forty-five. He knew that the first two hours after a crime was committed were often the most crucial. "Sam, I'm on my way. Don't let the guys from Fire and Rescue contaminate my crime scene any more than necessary. I'm bringing in my own expert on this one, so it may take me a few minutes to get there."

"Hate to burst your bubble Bran, but it could take days to fly in a trained arson investigator."

"Not when you happen to have one upstairs taking a nap in your guest bedroom."

"Who?"

"Grandpa Taylor."

"Shit, I forgot that he used to be the Reed County Fire Marshal. But Bran, he's eighty-four years old. Think he'll feel up to it?"

"We're talking about the same man who just last week won the Third Annual Arm Wrestling Championship at Shorty's Pub. Hell, he and Grandma still have sex four times a week. No, he'll want to do this, especially if it means catching the guy who's after Nate. I'll be there as soon as I wake him up. I only hope he and Grandma aren't naked when I go upstairs to get him."

He hung up and turned to his mother. "I have to go, Mom."

"So I heard. What do you want me to tell Nate?"

Bran kissed her and headed upstairs to retrieve his grandfather. "Just tell him I was called in on a case. I'll tell him the rest of it when I know more details. Do me a favor, though. When Keith gets here, have him check Nate over. I'm afraid he's had too much excitement over the last few days. And keep an eye on his father for me. I don't trust that guy. The rest of the family can go home anytime, but I'd appreciate it if you and Dad would stay."

"Of course, honey. We're always here for you and Nathan. You know that."

Bran nodded from the doorway. "I'm glad, Mom. I have a feeling we're going to need all the help we can get before this thing is over with."

* * *

Anyone looking at Gene Taylor would see the quintessential little old man. With his unruly shock of white hair and his faded blue eyes, no one would ever guess he had the mind of a crack detective. During his thirty years as fire marshal, not a single arson went unsolved. Bran was counting on those skills to pull this one off.

Bran spent the ride downtown filling his grandfather in on what little he knew. He also gave him all the details of the H. and G. Dry-cleaning case. Gene was silent, but Bran could almost see the old man's mind working.

The ruins of The Book Barn were still smoldering when Bran whipped his SUV into the parking lot. Luckily, the blaze was contained before the fire spread to the surrounding businesses. Several anxious tenants and shopkeepers stood outside, most awaiting word of Marjorie.

Sam met Bran and Gene at the curb. His short brown hair was streaked with soot and he had smudges under his gray eyes. Sam's tall, thin body was covered in ash, his uniform ruined. Bran gave him a disapproving inspection.

"What the hell were you doing in there, Sam? That's the fire fighters' job. You were supposed to be out here securing the crime scene."

Sam disregarded the criticism with the ease of old friendship. "I know, I know, but I think you're going to be glad I did when you see what I've found." He steered them through the crowd and into the burnt shell of the building. He pointed to a spot in what used to be the back corner of the building. "I found it when I came in to secure the scene."

Brandon saw a clear speak of yellow laying on the charred ground. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and lifted the scrap of paper for closer inspection. Gene looked on, but still didn't comment.

Bran walked out of the darkened husk back to his SUV, Sam and Gene following behind. He opened the car door and held the paper up to the interior light.

"Well, I'll be damned. It's a rental car receipt. Name's been burned off, but the tag number's still intact."

Sam nodded. "I've already called the rental car company. They're running a check on it now. I left it where it was after I got the number off of it because I wanted you to see where I found it. Looks to me like the perp used the thing to start the fire, but for some reason, it didn't burn. My guess is, whatever accelerant he used caught fire before that receipt had a chance to burn completely. The fire guys took some samples for testing. As soon as we get the name that goes with that slip of paper, we'll have our guy."

Gene spoke his first words since getting out of the SUV. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out, son. In fact, the whole thing couldn't have been easier to solve if your arsonist had gift wrapped it and slipped it into your Christmas stocking."

Bran leaned back against the car. "I agree, it's too easy, Grandpa, but I'm going more on a gut feeling. From the look of you, I'd say you've got something a little more concrete."

Gene stared at his grandson a few minutes before speaking. "You think the same guy who's setting these fires is the one who's after Nate, don't you, boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"The way I see it, the guy was smart enough to club Nate on the head, wreck his house and the doctor's office, tamper with his brakes and set up the H. and G. job to make it look like a gay-hate thing, all without getting caught. You think he's suddenly developed a brain tumor that turned him into a dumbass?"

Sam said, "Mr. Gene, are saying this guy got caught on purpose?"

Gene gave Sam a look that suggested there was definitely a dumbass in the vicinity, and it wasn't the perp. He fielded his comments directly to Brandon. "So far, this guy has targeted only businesses that already contain natural accelerants, like the cleaning fluids at H. and G. and the fiberglass book binding resins here at The Book Barn. No need to risk exposure by bringing in your own stuff if the fuel's already there. Look at that paper you're holding, Brandon. What do you see?"

Bran turned on the high beams and stepped into the light. He studied the paper and said, "The corner where the name should be is the only part of the paper that's burned. There's no soot or tar marking the surface of the receipt, even though the thing was inside a burning building for a good half-hour before the fire was brought under control. The son-of-a bitch set fire to the corner, then put it out before the incriminating numbers had a chance to burn. I'd be willing to bet he started the fire in the other end of the building after he planted this where he knew we would find it."

Sam scratched his head. "How in the hell did he keep the paper from burning up under the heat?"

Bran held the paper out for Gene's inspection. "Flame retardant?"

"Yep. I've been out of the loop for a while, as far as the latest technology goes, but I'd say it's an aqueous based resin, maybe one of the brominated compounds. It's not that hard to come by. Most building supply companies stock it."

Sam's cell phone started ringing while Gene was still talking. The expression on his face went from eager anticipation to twisted disbelief. He muttered his thanks and closed his phone. He addressed Bran and Gene with a shake of his head.

"That was Bingham's Car Rental. They traced the tag and came up with a credit card number. MasterCard just confirmed the identity of the card holder."

Gene said, "Son, I've always liked you, but damned if you don't have a habit of stringing out the drama. Just tell us who the damn car was rented to."

Sam took a deep breath and said, "Seth Morris."