by Janet Dailey
With the trees beyond saving, the firemen battled to save the store. They trained their single hose on the south wall that faced the tree lot. The vinyl siding had already begun to melt and buckle from the heat, but if they could keep the fire from spreading into the building, they would count it as a victory.
Maggie parked her car at a safe distance and walked closer, to join the people who were watching. She saw Hank, standing alone at the edge of the crowd. She moved next to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Hank,” she said.
When he turned to look at her, his cheeks were wet with tears. “You know my son, Maggie,” he said. “Would he do this?”
“Oh, no!” she gasped, horrified that he would even suggest such a thing. “There’s no way Travis would ever stoop to this!”
Hank didn’t reply. But the look he gave her told Maggie that he still had his doubts.
Travis was nowhere to be seen. Surely if he’d known about the fire, he would have come back. But the ranch was five miles out of town. If he’d driven on home after calling her, he might not have heard the siren or noticed the fire from that distance. She thought of calling him—but she knew he was tired, and there was no need. He would find out about the fire soon enough by tomorrow.
The firemen were winning the battle. By now, most of the trees had burned to ashes, and the rest were smoldering. The wall of the store, with its glass side entrance, was damaged but intact. The stock inside the store was safe.
“Will you be all right?” Maggie asked Hank as the firemen hosed everything down one last time and began to pack up their equipment.
He shrugged. “The building’s insured. But not the trees. That’s the way it goes, I guess.” He walked away, toward his parked truck.
The sheriff was standing nearby, his hand in the pocket of his thick leather jacket. Maggie caught his attention. “Do you have any idea how this started, Ben?” she asked him.
“I won’t know until the place cools down enough for me to look around. It could’ve been some kind of electrical short in the lights. But that’s a stretch. I’d lay odds that somebody started it. It wouldn’t take much. Just tossing a match or a lighted cigarette into one of those trees would be enough. A kid could’ve done it.”
“Who called in the alarm?”
“The nine-one-one dispatcher got an anonymous tip and triggered the alarm. It must’ve happened right after the fire started. Otherwise, the whole store could’ve gone up.”
“So maybe a kid, or somebody, is fooling around, starts the fire, calls for help, and runs off.”
“At this point, we’re all second-guessing, Maggie. I’ll know more when I check it out in the morning.”
Somebody called the sheriff’s name, and he hurried off. People were dispersing now. Hank had already gone, and the firemen were loading the engine. Maggie glanced around for Stanley Featherstone. She didn’t see him, but the fire had drawn a crowd. He could easily have come and gone without her noticing.
She wondered again whether she should call Travis. But by now he was probably asleep. He could just as well rest easily until morning to learn about the fire.
The fire engine headed back to the station. Maggie watched the red taillights disappear up Main Street. Then she walked back to her car, drove home, and went to bed.
* * *
Travis and his partners were up early the next morning. With the students out of school for Christmas vacation, families who’d put off buying a Christmas tree were apt to do it today. Too bad the snow wasn’t deep enough for sleigh rides. But at least everything else was ready.
They had just opened for business when the county sheriff’s big, tan SUV pulled up to the gate and stopped. Travis’s heart dropped as two men climbed out. He recognized the tall man as Sheriff Ben Marsden. The other one was Constable Stanley Featherstone. Both of them were armed.
One thing was certain. They hadn’t come to buy a Christmas tree. Good Lord, what if something had happened to Maggie?
Sick with apprehension, Travis walked out to meet them.
“Sheriff,” he said, ignoring Featherstone, “is something wrong?”
“You might say that.” Marsden was soft-spoken, but his presence was intimidating enough. “Mr. Morgan, can you tell us where you were between eleven and eleven-thirty last night?”
Travis knew the drill, and he knew better than to ask his own questions until he’d answered the sheriff’s. “I was with Maggie until after eleven—she can verify that. Then I left and drove straight home. My partners heard me come in.”
Dread slammed into him. What if something had happened to Maggie after their phone call? Why hadn’t he gone back instead of letting her talk him into going home? “Is Maggie all right?” he managed to ask.
At the mention of Maggie’s name, Featherstone’s face went florid. He appeared to be on the verge of an outburst, but he held himself in check, most likely because the sheriff had ordered him to.
“Maggie is fine,” Marsden said. Travis began to breathe again until the sheriff continued. “This isn’t about her. The Christmas tree lot at Hank’s Hardware was burned down last night. The firemen were barely able to save the store. We have a very reliable witness who claims to have seen you set the blaze.”
The cold fear that struck Travis went clear to the bone, but he knew he couldn’t show it. “Then your so-called reliable witness is lying,” he said. “I drove by the place about that time on my way home. There was no fire. I didn’t see anybody there, and I didn’t stop.”
“Is there any way you can prove that?” Marsden was only doing his job, Travis told himself. It was Featherstone who would do anything to take him out.
“I was tailed by a dark sedan, from the time I left Maggie’s until after I passed the hardware store. I’m guessing your so-called witness was the one driving it. Nobody else saw me. But my first thought was that somebody who meant to harm Maggie was following me to make sure I was gone. I called to warn her. But she insisted she was all right.”
“Of course, she was. That was me driving!” Featherstone spoke up in spite of the sheriff’s warning look. “I was patrolling the streets, looking for kids out past curfew. When I spotted you, I wanted to make sure you weren’t up to something. So yes, I followed you. And I saw you light the fire.”
The bottom seemed to drop out of Travis’s world. The little bastard was lying through his teeth and might have even started the fire himself. But there wasn’t a shred of proof against his story. It was the word of a sworn law officer against the word of an ex-convict.
Travis could almost hear the cell door clanging shut behind him. Lord help him, he didn’t have a prayer. But if he was going down, he would go down fighting.
“For the record, Sheriff, I didn’t do it. The fire started after I passed the hardware store. Why don’t you ask the constable, here, how he knew it was me? It was dark, and I was driving my partner’s Jeep.”
“That’s an interesting question, Constable,” Marsden said. “How did you know?”
Featherstone glanced at his boots. “Because his Jeep was parked outside Maggie’s house. When he came outside to leave, the porch light was on. I saw him plain as day.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “So you were watching Maggie’s house? Why?”
“To protect her. I’d warned her that this man was trouble, but she wouldn’t listen. I wanted to make sure she was all right.”
“But you said you were looking for curfew violators when you saw him,” the sheriff said.
Featherstone blanched, but then recovered. “Sorry for the fib. I thought it best not to bring Maggie’s name into this, given her position as mayor and all.”
“But I’d already mentioned Maggie,” Travis said. “I mentioned her before you lied about where you saw me. You say you saw me start the fire, Featherstone. How did I start it?”
“Uh . . . with matches. You threw them through the fence, at the nearest trees. When they started to burn, you tossed
the rest of the matches into the fire and drove away. That was when I called nine one one. And it’s a good thing I did, or the whole store would’ve gone up in smoke.”
At that point, Travis was about ninety percent sure Featherstone had started the fire. But so far, there was no proof against him—only the vague shadow of the lie he’d told.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this later, after I’ve investigated the alleged crime scene,” the sheriff said. “Meanwhile, Morgan, I’ll be taking you in for questioning.”
“Am I under arrest?” Travis had gone cold inside.
“Not yet. But I’d advise you to come back to the station with me.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Conner, with Rush, had come up to stand behind Travis. “This man hasn’t done anything wrong. You don’t have the right to take him.”
“It’s all right, Conner.” Travis knew better than to resist. “This is just a misunderstanding. Go ahead and open for business. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
But as the sheriff ushered him toward the SUV, Travis knew that he was the leading suspect in a case of malicious arson. He had means, motive, opportunity, and no alibi. He was in trouble over his head.
As he was about to climb into the rear seat, he turned back to face his partners. “One thing,” he said. “Whatever you do, for God’s sake, don’t tell Maggie.”
* * *
Maggie was in her office, debating whether to go home for lunch or grab a snack out of the vending machine when the receptionist relayed word that the sheriff was outside. She welcomed him in. “You’re looking far too serious today. Did you learn any more about the fire?”
“Some. For now, I’d like to keep the details to myself, but I did find evidence that it had been deliberately set.”
Maggie felt a chill of premonition. She masked it with a smile. “Please sit down, Ben,” she said. “You’re making me nervous, looming over my desk like that.”
“Sorry.” He sank onto the edge of the chair opposite her desk. “I have what might be some embarrassing questions to ask you,” he said.
“Go ahead.” Her pulse clicked into a canter.
He cleared his throat. “Were you aware that Stanley Featherstone might have been spying on you?”
“Wow, where did that come from?” she joked.
“Were you, Maggie?”
“I suspected it. He’s asked me out a few times. I always shrugged it off. I have no interest in him. But when he came in here to warn me about Travis, saying that a concerned citizen had seen him coming out of my house . . . that gave me the creeps.”
“So you are seeing Travis Morgan?”
The weight of the premonition deepened. “Yes. It’s no secret. What’s all this about, Ben?”
“Has Travis ever mentioned wanting to get even with his father for trying to harm his business?”
“No.” Now Maggie was getting scared. “In fact, Conner once told me that Travis had refused to retaliate against Hank. He’d said it would only poison the well. Ben, what is this? What’s going on?”
“Was Travis with you last night?”
“Yes. He dropped by after work and was so tired that he fell asleep on the sofa. I woke him around eleven, and he left. But he did call me on the way home to say that somebody was following him. He said they turned around after he passed the hardware store. And he didn’t mention that the place was on fire.”
“Did you notice any other vehicle nearby when he left? One that didn’t belong in the neighborhood?”
“I didn’t even look!” Maggie rose out of her chair, trembling. “For the love of heaven, Ben, I’ve always thought we were friends! Tell me what’s going on!”
“All right. Sit down.” He paused while she took her seat again. “Stanley Featherstone is claiming he followed Travis from your house last night and saw him set the fire.”
Maggie gasped. Her head swam with disbelief. “No! Stanley’s lying! He’s out to get Travis because of me!”
“That’s one theory. Right now, we’ve got no proof either way. But we brought Travis in for questioning this morning. Stanley’s story did sound fishy in spots. But Travis had means, motive, and opportunity. And whether he started the fire or not, the fact that he called you could’ve been a ploy to set up an alibi.”
“Well, now that you’ve talked to me, you know that Stanley had means, motive, and opportunity as well. Ben, Travis didn’t do this thing! He wouldn’t! He has too much to lose. Locking him up again would kill him—and Stanley knows that.”
“Travis is locked up now, in holding, until we sort this out,” the sheriff said. “Arson is a serious crime, and I’m sworn to do my job. I’m sorry, Maggie, but if the guilty finger points to him, he’ll be placed under arrest.”
“Can I see him?”
“Travis gave specific orders that you not be allowed to see him. Sorry.”
Maggie’s head sagged. She fought back tears. “This is a nightmare. I love him, Ben. He would never risk what we have for a stupid act of revenge, especially if someone else was close enough to see him do it.”
Ben rose and laid a gentle hand on her arm. “I’ll keep that in mind, Maggie. The truth is out there somewhere, and I won’t stop looking until I’ve found it.”
Just then the receptionist buzzed Maggie’s desk phone. “Hank Miller is here. Can I show him in?”
Maggie gave Ben a questioning glance. Ben nodded. He would stay.
The door opened, and Hank stumbled in, rumpled and breathless, his face the picture of distress. “I was on my way to your office, Ben, but then I saw you come in here. I hope you don’t mind, Maggie. This concerns you, too.”
“Sit down, Hank.” Ben held out the chair where he’d been sitting. Hank shook his head.
“Thanks, I’d rather stand. Stanley Featherstone phoned me a few minutes ago. He said my boy had been arrested for burning my Christmas tree lot.”
“Not arrested, just held for questioning. What else did Stanley tell you?”
“That he saw Travis set the fire last night, lighting matches and pushing them through the fence. But that’s why I’m here, Ben. Stanley’s lying. Travis didn’t start that fire. I did!”
Chapter 16
Maggie and the sheriff stared at Hank. “So you started the fire?” Ben asked. “Tell us what happened, and you’d better sit down. You look ready to collapse.”
Hank sank onto the chair, his face pale. “It was an accident,” he said. “I have one of those outdoor space heaters for cold nights. When I closed shop, I forgot to turn it off. In the middle of the night, the breeze carried some dry needles into the heating element. They caught fire, blew around, and the fire spread.”
Ben looked skeptical. “Did you see that happen, Hank?”
“No. But when I saw the fire, I figured it out. It may not have happened exactly like that, but I do know for sure it wasn’t Travis who started it.”
“Well, you’ll have to come up with something better than that,” Ben said. “I did an inspection of the fire scene this morning. If a metal space heater had started the fire, it would still have been there, in the ashes. It wasn’t.”
Hank looked frustrated. “Well, maybe you’re right. One thing I do know, it wasn’t Travis. If that little weasel says it was, he’s lying.”
Ben’s eyes drilled into the old man so sternly that Maggie wanted to tell the sheriff to back off. But she knew better than to interrupt.
“How do you really know it wasn’t Travis?” he demanded. “Are you sure, or do you just want it to be true?”
Hank looked ready to cry. “All right, I guess there’s no other way but to tell you the truth. The store’s been losing money. I hoped to make it up with the trees, like I usually do. But with the way the competition from the Christmas Tree Ranch cut into me, I knew if I didn’t do something I’d lose it all. So I decided to burn the place down for the insurance. I figured if I started with the trees, it would spread to the store and take it all. But some fool came along and
called the fire department. I headed out through the back of the store and joined the crowd in front.”
“That’s a pretty plausible story,” Ben said. “So how did you start the fire?”
“I set a couple of Ready Lite charcoal briquettes next to the trees and fired them up. I figured that way, before the trees caught, I’d have time to get out of the way. Then I cut out through the store.”
“And what time was that?”
“Can’t say I checked. Eleven-fifteen, maybe.”
“And you didn’t see anybody? Any vehicles?”
“ No.”
It was all Maggie could do to keep from stepping in. The upright lawman she’d known and respected since childhood was destroying this harmless, kindhearted man, and she didn’t understand why. She was about to speak up when Ben did something unexpected. Turning away from Hank, he found a piece of notepaper, scrawled something on it, and passed it across Maggie’s desk. Puzzled, she read just two words.
Trust me.
Trust him? Did she have a choice?
“Stand up and turn around, Hank,” Ben said. “I’m placing you under arrest for arson with intent to commit insurance fraud.” As he recited the Miranda rights, he unhooked the handcuffs from his belt and placed them around Hank’s wrists. A tear ran down Hank’s cheek, but he held his head high as Ben led him out of the room and back toward the jail, leaving Maggie in a state of shock.
* * *
Travis had been in the holding cell less than two hours, but his nerves were crawling. His body was clammy with sweat. Those three years he’d spent behind bars had been the worst hell of his life, and now he was facing them again—this time for a crime he hadn’t committed. As a convicted felon charged with a second offense, nobody would believe his story, and he would get no mercy from any judge or jury.
And everything he would lose—his friends, his ranch, his new business, and a woman he could love forever—even the thought was enough to break his heart.
Flanked by a deputy, Stanley Featherstone walked up to the bars. His narrow rat face wore a self-satisfied smirk. “The sheriff wants you brought to the interrogation room. I’m guessing it’s time for you to be charged and booked. Good luck, Morgan.”