The man leaned against the bed rail. His voice was low, conspiratorial. “I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that Calla was listed as missing after the fires at the carnival, and her body was never recovered. Want to tell me why you’d think she was sending you text messages claiming responsibility for the fires in your neighborhood?”

Oh, that’s easy. Because Calla is a psychotic Fire Elemental who wants to start a war between the Elementals and the Guides. Oh, wait, you don’t know about Elementals? Here, let me tell you . . .

Michael inhaled a long breath and set his jaw.

Marshal Faulkner held up the phone again. “You were texting Hannah around the same time. Did anyone else have access to your phone?”

No one had, but Michael was expecting a trap now, so he didn’t answer.

You were texting Hannah at the same time.

And Michael thought it had been humiliating sitting here handcuffed to the bed. That had nothing on Hannah’s dad reading their text exchanges. Michael racked his brain and tried to remember if he’d said anything incriminating—or embarrassing. For an instant he felt about fourteen, like he’d been caught in his bedroom with a dirty magazine.

Then Jack Faulkner said, “Are you putting my daughter in danger?”

Michael swung his head around. “No.” His voice was rough and he had to clear his throat. “No. Never.” He was trying to keep her out of danger.

“Someone is.” For the first time, the fire marshal’s voice held an edge. “And you know something about it. Do you understand what kind of position that puts me in?”

Michael met his eyes and realized he and Jack Faulkner were on opposite sides of the same coin. They both wanted to protect the people closest to them.

And they both felt powerless to do it.

“Yes,” said Michael evenly. “I know exactly what kind of position that puts you in.”

The fire marshal hit the bed rail and came halfway out of his chair. “Then tell me something!”

Michael recoiled. The movement was too sudden, and he felt every single one of those stitches pull this time. Stars danced through his vision.

A knock sounded at the door. “Everything all right in here?”

The marshal sat back down. He looked at the door, then cursed under his breath.

Michael glanced over. He recognized the sharply dressed man in the doorway, but he had to blink twice to be sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

David Forrest was the father of Gabriel’s girlfriend, Layne. He was also a high-powered criminal defense attorney with a price tag to match. He’d kept Gabriel out of jail when the town had been under attack from an arsonist, and even though he’d offered to waive his fees, Michael had looked up his consultation charges and sent him a check anyway.

The check had been cashed right away.

It had hurt the family bank account, but the damage to his self-respect would have taken longer to heal. Michael had never told Gabriel.

“I’ve spoken with the district attorney,” David said. “I understand no charges are being filed at this time?”

“Not yet,” said Marshal Faulkner. He didn’t sound happy about it.

Michael glared at him. “You didn’t tell me that.”

David’s eyebrows went up. “Did he tell you that you were under arrest?”

“He said maybe.”

The fire marshal shrugged and sat back. “Depended on what you told me.”

David looked back at Michael. “Did he read you your rights?”

“No.”

Marshal Falkner picked up the handcuffs he’d removed and dangled them from a finger. “He wasn’t in custody. It was just a conversation.”

“I think you’re done here,” said David. “Unless we should pursue a complaint of harassment?”

For the first time, Hannah’s father sounded pissed. “Go ahead.”

“I want my phone back,” said Michael. “And I want to see my brothers.”

Marshal Faulkner and David Forrest exchanged glances. In that one look, Michael realized the fire marshal had hidden more than he’d let on.

“What?” said Michael. His voice did break, and he didn’t care. He was going to crawl out of this bed and find them if he had to. He grabbed hold of the bed rail and pulled himself up. “Where are they? Are they okay?”

“They’re fine,” said David Forrest. His voice should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t. “They’re in the cafeteria. I just saw them.”

“And they’re okay? What was with the look?” His chest felt like it might cave in again. “What’s going on?”

Another knock, this one faint, sounded at the door. A young woman stood there, in thick glasses and a plain, shapeless suit, dressed more for function than for fashion. No makeup, hair in a simple ponytail. She carried a clipboard and a folder. “Mr. Merrick?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m from the Department of Family Services,” she said. “I’m here to talk about your brothers.”

Hannah shuffled the deck of cards and dealt around the table. She’d been playing poker in the hospital cafeteria for three hours, but she’d do it for three more if she had to.

Once everyone had two cards, Chris and Gabriel threw pretzels on the table to cover the blinds, and then the bet went to Nick.

Nick didn’t glance at his cards, though he slid them between his fingers, leaving his eyes on Hannah. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”