by Burton, Mary
“I didn’t search them all. I’ll go back inside.”
Joan realized the flames were now succumbing to the water.
As Ann turned, Joan caught a flutter of movement to her right. She looked out toward the expansive yard and saw a figure of a child standing and staring at the shed.
“Ann. Look over there! Is that Nate?” Joan asked.
Ann shouted her son’s name as she ran barefoot across the lawn. The boy did not respond to his mother but stared at the fire with an intensity she had never seen before.
The cold water from the nozzle dripped over her fingers and onto her clothes. The growing cold was sapping her strength, but she kept shooting the water at the fire. The fire howled as if it sensed it was losing this battle.
She glanced back to see Ann rush up to her son. He was dressed in light-blue pajamas that made him appear much younger than ten. Ann wrapped her arms around the boy, hugging him close to her body and then hurriedly drawing him back as she ran her hands over his arms, torso, and legs. The trance was broken, and he shifted his attention back to his mother.
When Ann hugged her son to her again, Joan decided the boy was physically fine. She looked back to the fire, which had curled in on itself and retreated. She remained vigilant, however, determined to eradicate every trace of the devil’s breath.
She lost track of time until a strong hand gripped her shoulder. Startled, she turned to see Gideon standing there. The fire was all but gone, taking with it its heat and allowing a chill to burrow into her bones. Her teeth chattered when she asked, “Where’s Ann?”
“She’s in my car getting warm with Nate.” He took the nozzle from her and stopped the stream of water. “The fire is gone, Joan. It’s okay.”
Her fingers were red from the cold as she shivered. He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her. A rush of warmth vibrated through her body. “How did you know?”
“Ann called me.”
She tensed and dug her heel into the muddy mulch. “We need to take pictures. Preserve evidence.”
“The fire department is on the way. So is Clarke. There will be plenty of people to figure out what happened here.”
Her fingers had taken on a gray cast, but they still trembled, not with cold but with a surging adrenaline that she knew would keep her wired for hours, if not days. She looked back at the shed’s exterior, still smoldering and streaked in soot. The siding had melted and curled.
“I woke when I heard an explosion,” she said.
Gideon coaxed her forward. “Thank God you did. If that had spread to the woods, we’d have had a much bigger problem on our hands.”
She expelled the stale air in her lungs and pulled in her first deep breath since she had awoken. “How did it happen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nate was out here just watching the fire. He wasn’t screaming or running for help or trying to approach the flames. He was simply standing there and staring.”
“I haven’t talked to Nate yet. But I will.”
“He could have seen who did this.”
Moonlight glittered over the brim of his hat, shadowing his face. “Joan, you have to get in the car and get warm. You’re going to go into shock.”
“I’m fine.”
He grabbed her by the arm. “You’re not fine. Accept the goddamn help, Joan.”
The temptation to surrender was palpable. But lowering her guard would accomplish nothing. “I know what I need.” She gritted her teeth so they would not chatter.
“Sometimes. But not now. Now you need to get warm and out of wet clothes. Once you’re stable, then you can micromanage this entire investigation.”
“I’m detail oriented. I don’t micromanage.” But she started walking toward him, and when she closed the gap, he fell in step beside her. When they reached his car, a fire engine siren wailed in the distance. Ann got out of the car and immediately wrapped a blanket around Joan.
“Joan, you feel like ice,” Ann said.
“The irony,” Joan said, attempting a smile. “Is Nate okay?”
“He’s fine. He’s in the back seat with Kyle.”
“Did Nate explain why he was outside?” Joan asked.
“He said he saw the flames.”
“From where?” Joan demanded.
“He won’t say.”
“Let me talk to him,” Joan said.
“He’s fallen asleep.” Ann sounded defensive and on guard.
“I won’t upset him,” Joan said. “I just want to know if he saw anyone.”
“It’s too much for him,” Ann said. “We’ll talk to him in the morning.”
“By morning, whoever did this could be long gone.”
“I know.”
“She needs to get in the car,” Gideon said.
The fire engine lights appeared in the distance, flinging yellows and reds on the trees. The sirens grew louder.
Gideon reached for the door handle on the front passenger seat and opened the door. A rush of warm air beckoned her inside.
“You need to get out of your wet clothes,” Ann said. “I’ll hold up a blanket so you can strip.”
Whatever modesty she felt was outweighed by the practical matter of getting warm. She reached for the hem of her shirt and, as she pulled it up, noted that Gideon’s gaze lingered only a moment before he turned away. She peeled off her boots and jeans and left both in a wet, cold pile by the car.
Ann wrapped the blanket around her, and again her body shuddered, expelling the chill inside her. She slipped into the passenger seat, and Ann closed the door.
She watched as Ann and Gideon spoke to each other. Their voices were low, but she could see by the agitated looks on their faces that both were shaken.
Joan tipped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Who the hell would set that fire? It was not lost on her that the fire had started in a shed that was easily visible from her window.
“I didn’t set the fire.” Nate’s quiet voice came from the back seat.
She looked in the rearview mirror and caught his wise gaze staring at her.
Kyle was beside him, nodding his agreement. “He didn’t set the fire.”
“I believe you.” Keeping her voice low and calm, she asked, “Do you know who set it?”
“No,” Nate said.
“What woke you?”
“I was hungry,” Nate said.
“He’s always hungry,” Kyle offered.
Joan could not tell if Kyle was giving him an excuse or really explaining. “What did you eat?”
“I saw the fire before I got to the kitchen.” Nate burrowed deeper into his blanket, making it impossible to really see him well.
“Why didn’t you tell your mom? It could have caught the woods on fire.”
“I didn’t think about that; I just ran outside. Then you came out.”
She stared into his gaze, trying to decipher what was going on in that head of his. “Did you see who set the fire, Nate?” she asked again.
Instead of answering, Nate closed his eyes and tugged the blanket up close to his chin. “I’m tired.”
Most children were not good at masking their thoughts and feelings, but she suspected Nate was far more mature and capable than she had realized.
The fire crews arrived minutes later, and the single-engine crew quickly unloaded their hoses and went around the side of the house. With more power than her garden hose, they quickly doused whatever embers remained. Clarke pulled up behind the truck and got out of the car.
Joan tightened her blanket around her. She was warm, and the comfort of the wool now scratched her skin. She was anxious to get clothes back on so that she would be more comfortable and freer to move.
She opened the door, glancing back to see that Nate and Kyle were sleeping. Gingerly, she stepped out of the car, the graveled driveway digging into her bare feet. The night’s chill had more bite now that her blood had warmed.
She closed the car door gently, watching
as Gideon, Clarke, and Ann all spoke to each other. She crossed the driveway and hurried up the front path, past two firefighters.
“Sorry, fellas,” she said as she kept moving. “I’m buck naked and need my pants.”
Their gazes shifted to her hand gripping the wool blanket, and no doubt they were wondering what was underneath it. Let them wonder. As long as she got her clothes.
The heavy scent of smoke had infiltrated the house. She hurried down the hallway toward her bedroom and ducked inside.
She snapped up the bag and slid into a clean pair of jeans and a black V-neck sweater. She quickly ran her fingers through her damp hair, which stuck up and refused to be tamed. There was nothing to be done about it, so she slipped on her other pair of shoes and headed toward the front door. She grabbed one of Ann’s jackets and headed outside. Gideon was waiting for her on the front porch.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting clothes. Hard to investigate when you don’t have pants on.”
The sound of a man’s voice rose before he could respond, and they looked to see Clarke and Ann arguing. She was keeping her voice low but was standing toe to toe with him.
Joan moved past Gideon and crossed to the couple. “What’s going on?”
“It’s none of your business,” Clarke said.
“I just spent a half hour putting out a fire, so I would say all of this is my business,” Joan replied.
Ann looked pale and tired. “I don’t want you two getting into it. I want to go back inside my house with my son and maybe get a shower and an hour or two of sleep.”
“You’re not going into that house,” Clarke said. “You and Nate need to move back to town into our house. At least in town, you’ll have better access to fire and rescue if this nut strikes again.”
“I’m not moving back into our house,” Ann said.
“I will move out,” Clarke said quickly. “I’ll stay at the fire station. I just want you and my son safe.”
“We’re fine,” Ann said.
“The shed was torched!” Clarke shouted. “Next time it might be the house.”
“Dad? Why are you fighting with Mom?” Nate asked.
They all turned to see Nate and Kyle standing in the driveway, wool blankets wrapped around their pajamas.
Clarke moved to Nate and knelt in front of him, hands resting on his shoulders. “Mom and I aren’t fighting, buddy. We’re worried.”
Nate looked toward the smoking remains of the shed. “Why? The fire wasn’t that bad.”
“It could have been much worse,” Clarke said calmly. “That’s what worries me.”
Nate yawned. “I want to go to bed.”
“I can put you in your old room,” Clarke said.
“I don’t want that room. I like the one here better.”
Ann stood beside Nate. “Gideon is on the property. Joan is here. We aren’t alone.”
“That’s not the point.” Frustration simmered under Clarke’s words. “You’re my family. My responsibility. This break you put us on needs to end.”
“The house is untouched,” Gideon said. “And I’m just down the road.”
“See? We’ll be fine,” Ann said. “But I agree—we’ll have to talk soon.”
Clarke kept his hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Ann, it’s safer for you both in town, and you know it.”
“We’re staying here,” she insisted. “I won’t be run out of my home by some coward who thinks he can scare me.”
“I’ll be here as well,” Joan said.
“But you might be the reason that my family is in danger,” Clarke said, his gaze cutting to her. “What the hell is it with you and fire, Joan?”
“What do you mean?” Gideon asked.
“Wherever she goes, disaster strikes. This is the second time she’s been near Ann when a major arson event happened. Three if you count the Beau-T-Shop fire, which happened within hours of her arrival.”
Tamping down her anger, Joan refused to let Clarke see he had gotten to her. The Beau-T-Shop fire might have just coincided with her arrival, but this fire was a direct message.
She was not comfortable with the thought, but better her than Ann and Nate. “I’ll get my gear and find a room in town first thing in the morning. That way the threat will be removed.”
“I appreciate that, but what if you’re wrong?” Clarke asked.
Gideon looked at her, his expression a mixture of annoyance and frustration. “I have a spare room at my house,” he said. “It’s over the garage.”
“It’s nice,” Kyle offered. “Dad and I used to live there.”
“Thanks, Kyle. But I’ll get a hotel room,” Joan said.
“It will cost you a fortune,” Gideon said. “Besides, you’re only staying a few more days, correct?”
Her return ticket was booked for Sunday, which gave her less than a week to clean up whatever mess was here before she returned home to the other mess she had left behind. “I’m here until early next week. But it’s better I stay in town.”
“I’m sorry, but the sooner you leave, the better,” Clarke said.
Ann wrapped her arms around Nate’s shoulders. “I want to get to bed. We’ll sort it out later.”
“I’ll stand watch tonight and leave first thing in the morning,” Joan said.
Neither Gideon nor Clarke appeared happy with the solution, but when the fire crews announced the shed extinguished, neither could argue.
“My house is a half mile down the driveway, Clarke,” Gideon said. “I can be here in five minutes if Ann or Nate needs me.”
That seemed to soften Clarke’s hardened features. “I want you to call me if anything happens,” he said. “I can also be here in less than twenty minutes.”
Ann moved toward Clarke and kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll get through this.”
Clarke’s hands came up to her arms, and he gently hugged her. “I’ll do anything to protect you two.”
“I know. We’ll be fine.”
Clarke was calm enough to leave, and when his car vanished around the corner, Gideon approached Ann. “Ann, I haven’t told you everything.”
“If you’re going to tell me about the picture found with Lana, Joan already told me.”
Gideon glanced toward Joan, his gaze a mixture of frustration, anger, and worry. “How well did you know Lana?” he asked.
Ann drew in a breath, as she did when she was stressed. “She did my hair once in the spring. Cut it too short. I wasn’t happy. I haven’t been back to the salon since.”
“Did she say anything to you?” Gideon asked.
“She chatted about how much she liked Montana. Hinted that she had a boyfriend. I didn’t press her for details. Why would she have a picture of Joan and me?”
“We don’t know,” Gideon said.
Ann flexed her fingers. “I have no idea who would give her a picture like that.”
“Is there anything else she might have mentioned about her boyfriend?” he asked.
“I wasn’t paying attention to her. Clarke and I had recently separated, and I was very distracted.”
“If you think of anything about Lana, let me know.”
“Of course. And if you find anything else that connects my son or me to any of this, keep me informed.”
“I will.” Gideon turned and left with Kyle.
Joan followed Ann inside and went into the kitchen. Ann took Nate upstairs. Needing something to do, she made a pot of coffee. As the machine gurgled, she stared out the window at the smoking remains of the shed.
She poured herself a cup and set out another mug for Ann, guessing she would come downstairs instead of sleep. Ten minutes later, Ann appeared in the kitchen and poured herself a cup.
Joan sat on the barstool, cradling her cup. “That was quite the evening.”
“I still can’t believe it,” Ann said. “Makes me think about the College Fire.”
Joan looked at her fingernails, still darkened with soot. “The flam
es brought it all back.”
“Who could have set the fire?” Ann asked.
Joan carefully set her cup down. “Nate and I spoke while we were sitting in the car. He said he saw me come out, which means he was outside before I was.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“He wasn’t in the house, and we were both in a panic until I saw him watching the fire.”
“He would have no reason to be outside.”
“He told me he wakes up a lot at night from hunger. Kyle confirmed it.”
Shaking her head, Ann dropped her gaze to her cup. “He’s just a kid.”
“He’s a really smart kid with a very active mind.”
Ann drew in a breath, rising and moving almost robotically to the refrigerator. She paused to stare at a picture of Nate held in place by a Montana state flag magnet. Finally, she opened the door, removed a carton of half-and-half, and took her seat back at the island. She did not bother to pour the cream in her coffee.
“Ann, what aren’t you telling me?” Joan asked softly. “Why would he be outside?”
“I don’t know.” Her foot pulsed nervously against the rung of her stool.
Joan had interviewed enough suspects to recognize deceptive behavior, and Ann was showing signs of it. Retrieving the cream was a delay tactic, and though Ann could almost hide her unease behind a stoic expression, she could not control the nervous leg movements.
“Did Nate set the fire?” Joan asked.
Ann’s green gaze turned watery, as if a dark secret had been spoken. “Why would you ask that?”
“Why aren’t you denying it?”
“He’s just a kid,” Ann said. “And he has never had any history of setting fires or troubling behavior. He’s smart and a little geeky, which sometimes gives kids and teachers a reason to single him out.”
This burst of righteous outrage was a deflection, another sign of deception. Ann had also yet to deny Joan’s assertion that the boy might have played a role in the fire.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Joan asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I haven’t pressed about your separation from Clarke, but what I saw out there tells me he doesn’t want it. He really wants you back.”
“No separation is easy.”