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notice anything suspicious?”
    Charlotte looked at him from behind her desk, her gaze alert, as if she were waiting for his reply.
    Jackson shook his head. “If you think he had something to do with it, you’re wrong. He’d been trying to put out the fire with his jacket.”
    “Did you witness that?”
    “No, but that’s what he told me, and I had no reason to doubt his sincerity. He was obviously upset, and his jacket was charred black. And in spite of his own injury, he helped me give first aid to a burn victim.”
    Fergusson made a noncommittal noise, then closed his notebook and stored it in the pocket of his suit coat. “Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Bailey. Miss Marchand, I’ll be in touch.”
    Jackson pushed away from the door frame. “Wait. Aren’t you going to give Charlotte any protection?”
    “Sorry, sir. Not unless there’s a confirmed threat to her person.”
    “Someone rammed a skinning knife into her desk. I might not have any expertise in law enforcement, but that looks like a personal threat to me.”
    “I can ask our regular patrols to keep an eye out for anything suspicious in the neighborhood,” Fergusson said, walking to the door.
    “It’s Mardi Gras,” Jackson said. “How would they spot anything suspicious in the crowds?”
    “Sorry, with the department budget the way it is, that’s all I can do.”
    Jackson had dealt with enough bureaucrats in his time to recognize a brick wall when he saw it. He waited until the detective was gone, then closed the door and turned to Charlotte.
    “Jackson, it’s all right,” she said before he could speak. “I’ll alert Mac to the situation and have him step up security.”
    “Mac told me that he’s leaving, going back to his private security business.”
    “Yes, but not until after Mardi Gras. Our night security manager, Tyrell Haynes, will take over the job then. He’s quite competent, and I have every confidence in him.”
    “Are you sure that stepping up the security here will beenough? The design of this hotel makes it impossible to keep anyone out.”
    “It will be fine.”
    “There are too many entrances. You saw how easily the Corbins walked in this morning.”
    “This vandalism could still prove to be nothing but a sick prank. Yet if the Corbins are indeed responsible, they would want me to panic. That’s why I can’t afford to overreact.”
    “But—”
    “I’m not going to lock the place down during Mardi Gras, Jackson. Nor do I want to alarm the guests with a police presence. Other than stepping up our in-house security, my only option is business as usual.” She ran a fingertip over the scar in the desktop, then rose to her feet. “And I would ask that you don’t mention this incident to your uncle.”
    “Why not?”
    “My mother has enough worries already, and this ugliness will only upset her further. With her heart condition, I don’t want to take any chances.”
    “You can’t expect me to forget about this.”
    “That’s exactly what I expect. While I appreciate your concern, I’ll handle things from here. As you just said, you don’t have any expertise in law enforcement. And, to be blunt, this isn’t any of your business.”
    Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his hair. He knew she was right—he’d already told himself he didn’t want to get involved—but hearing her say it bothered him. “You told Mac we’re old friends.”
    “It’s true. We were friends once, regardless of the way we parted.”
    “Then as a friend I have the right to be concerned.”
    “Perhaps, but not to pry.”
    “If my uncle marries your mother, we’re going to be family.”
    “Which is why I’ve tried to be courteous. But this is my problem, not yours. You’re leaving soon anyway, aren’t you? Running off to Afghanistan or wherever?”
    The bitterness in her voice startled him. This was the first crack in her calm she’d allowed since they’d arrived at her office. “If everything goes well,