by Debra Erfert
“Joshua, who’s Zane?” With the way his head snapped back, Candice thought he would fall over backward, but he stayed upright and kept his lips tightly shut.
“Answer her, Joshua,” Mr. Leavitt snapped.
“Don’t talk to my son like that, Kyle,” Meagan whined.
He wasn’t his son. Kyle Leavitt was a stepfather to a very angry young man with a history of fire setting. Candice needed to get more information, but maybe now wasn’t the time or the place. Interviewing Joshua needed to be more controlled and probably without the step-dad being in the room.
Candice stood up. “I want you to get your things together and then follow us out to your new home, but first I need Joshua to give up his lighters.”
“He doesn’t have any,” Meagan said quickly. Candice saw the same trapped look flash over the boy’s face. She held out her hand and waited. He didn’t move.
She softened her voice to something less accusatorial. “I can have Officer Delaney search you before we leave the room. Is that what you want? Or do you want to help your family now? Joshua, give me your lighters.”
He seemed to think for a few moments before he slowly stood up and reached into his jeans pockets. Two lighters and one cell phone later, he turned and started walking toward the bedroom door.
“Stop,” Candice demanded. “Alex?”
Meagan said, “But he gave you what he had. We didn’t even know he had those, I swear!”
Candice glanced at Meagan. “Alex, please?” He didn’t question her. He went to the boy and gingerly patted him down, finding an additional lighter in his sock and two books of paper matches in his other sock. He gave them to Candice. Then the boy quickly disappeared into the bedroom.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” Meagan whispered. “I had no idea.”
“Meagan,” Candice softly said, “you had some idea.” Candice saw tears cloud her eyes. “Why don’t you get ready? We’ll be waiting in the lobby for you. Okay?”
Chapter 6
“HOW DID YOU know?” Alex asked Candice with his face near hers. They were leaning against the lobby couch watching for the family to come through the automatic doors. His closeness was raising too many memories, good and bad.
“About what?”
Alex glanced over at the registration desk and lowered his voice. “About the boy having the lighters.”
Candice gazed up into his impressive dark blue eyes, making her heart flip. She’d always seen compassion in them, like now. “It was what his mother said about children having a curiosity about fire. She was right. Almost three out of four children experiment with fire by playing with matches, or lighters, or candles, or even fireworks and cigarettes. You caught that Mr. Leavitt is Joshua’s stepfather?”
“Yeah,” Alex whispered.
“And shortly after their first child was born, Joshua set a fire in her bedroom. Over half of children experimenting with fire in homes start the fires in a bedroom. In this case, it’s where he was unhappy about something.”
“He thought he was being replaced.”
“By a whole new family,” she told him quietly. “I don’t think that was the last time he set a fire. I could tell by the way the mother reacted when he dug out the lighters. She wasn’t surprised.”
“But I thought you said you didn’t believe Joshua is the one who set the fire last night.”
“I think whoever Zane is might be responsible for it. He could be a buddy who likes to play with fire, too. Maybe this Zane kid thought it would be funny to give Joshua a scare, or maybe he was ticked off at Joshua for something.” She shook her head. “I hadn’t really figured out who for sure, or how he got in, or why he would’ve done it.” Candice let out a heavy sigh. “Cripes! I don’t know, Alex. If Joshua is a juvenile fire setter, then there might be some unexplained trash bin fires in his neighborhood, or grass fires, or even fires at his school. I need to do some old-fashioned shoe leather-thinning foot work.”
“How about I drive you instead? I have the rest of the day off.” Alex’s heart-melting smile weakened her resolve of staying away from him.
“Can you get me into their house again?”
“Do you want me to call Barbarize?”
“I’d rather he wasn’t there.” Candice nodded toward the doorway. “I need to see if I can find any prints on doorknobs. Here they come.” The family of five hustled into the lobby, crying baby and all.
~*~
Candice held the check and called her personal banker while Alex led the way to her grandfather’s house. She’d inherited it, but it was too huge to live in by herself, which was the reason she lived in the apartment. Her banker’s number was set as a favorite in her iPhone. “Hi, Maryann, this is Candice Shane . . . I’m just fine, thank you. A new client paid by a check, and I’d like to find out if it will clear their account . . . Kyle and Meagan Leavitt, their joint checking account.” She read the account number out loud. “It’s for ten thousand dollars . . . Yes, I’ll hold.”
“Ten thousand dollars?” Alex grinned at her. “Are you going to deposit it?”
“I think I will. I’m going to need to beef up the security at Grandfather’s house.”
He tapped her knee with a quick flick of his finger. “It’s your house.”
“Yes, I know, but I don’t live there—I can’t live there. It’s just not the same without my grandfather being there, too.”
Alex patted her knee. “I understand. I always did.”
That was true. He seemed to understand Candice, which endeared him to her right from the beginning. Except when she broke up with him. She’d never forget his pained expression when she walked away.
“That’s not a bad payday. You had Kyle cleared, probably cleared of trying to kill his family within sixty seconds. That’s amazing.”
“That was easy. The hard part will be tracking down Zane and then getting to the truth. I need to go to their house and—Yes, Maryann? What did you find out? . . . Then I’ll go ahead and deposit it this afternoon. I’ll see you then. Bye.” Candice ended the call and gazed at Alex. “Maryann said they can cover the check quite comfortably.” She leaned her head against the headrest.
“You tired?
Her next breath came out too fast and loud. It sounded like she was annoyed with Alex, which she wasn’t. He’d helped her with finding the displaced family and searching the boy. Candice would’ve done it, but if she was honest with herself, she was glad he was with her. “Somewhat. I’ll try to take a nap later, after we have a chance to go through the fire scene. May I ask you a professional question?”
Alex glanced at her. “Candice, you can ask me anything.”
He said she could ask him anything. But did he mean it? An impulsive urge flashed through her heart. Who was Jen? Were they engaged? Had they spoken of the future together? Okay, that was more than one question, and in reality, it wouldn’t matter what his answers would be. Candice didn’t plan on becoming romantically involved with him again. It was too difficult breaking it off the first time. It was a fact—a woman couldn’t just flip a switch and stop loving someone on command, and although it might’ve seemed like she forgot him, her heart never did.
“Does the police department take reports on trash bin fires?”
“Not if they don’t know what caused it.”
“But isn’t that why it should be investigated—to determine what caused the fire?”
Alex nodded. “Of course, but the police don’t get called out for it, unless the fire is suspicious.”
“Who would call the police out?”
“The fire department would be responding to any fires. Like with the fire from last night. As you said before, drapes don’t suddenly start burning all by themselves. Someone had to have lit it up, so a fire department arson investigator would be the first to come out, but if they find that it was started by a Molotov cocktail or they find a stream of gasoline leading up to the trash bin, or even if a witness sees somebody running from it shortly before or aft
er it bursts into flames, then the fire department will call us and we’ll take a report and investigate the crime.”
“But how would a trash bin catch on fire if it wasn’t done purposely?” Candice asked this more as a way of thinking out loud.
“I can tell you that,” Alex offered. “My dad refinishes furniture in his spare time. He uses a lot of stripper, a chemical that dissolves paint, but it also can self-heat.”
“And that means?” Candice opened a note app on her phone.
“That a rag used in refinishing solvent can spontaneously combust.” Alex raised one hand out in front of him with all his fingers touching his thumb and then popped them apart. “Poof! Like magic, you have a trash bin fire.”
“That’s disturbing.” But good information. “If there had been any suspicious alley fires this past six months or so, how can I get a look at them?”
“Well, you can request a copy of all arsons right from the PD’s records department. It’s public information, and anyone can request them. But if there are minors involved, their names will be redacted.”
Candice pointed up ahead. “There’s Grandfather’s driveway.” She could see the top floor of the home from the street.
“I forgot how huge it is.”
“I know.” Candice watched the familiar low stone wall lining the property pass by, only curving and breaking at the driveway. It was hard to miss. It looked like a public street, yet it was private property. Her grandfather never wanted to put in gates, and several times while Candice was growing up, they had people knock on their door to get directions. Grandfather was always patient with them. He never once lost his temper at anyone, not even with her. She looked out the back window to make sure the Leavitt family was behind them.
“They’re still with us, Candice,” Alex said.
The closer they got to the main house, the more Alex leaned forward against the steering wheel. Candice could see the awe on his face. It was an impressive home by any standard. She guessed some would call it an estate. Grandfather never liked that word—too pretentious. There was a large roundabout drive with a concrete fountain in the middle and flowers blooming around the edges. A portico large enough to comfortably park four large cars loomed over a double door that was almost entirely made of glass and carved wood.
Candice pointed out the windshield. “Pull under the portico. I don’t have a garage door opener.”
“What? You don’t keep that in your backpack?” he said, chuckling.
Candice resisted a smile. “Sarcasm about my backpack isn’t appreciated, Sergeant Delaney.” She waited for the truck to come to a full stop before getting out, hiking her backpack over one shoulder. She caught Alex staring at the impressive front double doors as he walked around the truck to where she was standing. The doors were intricately carved wood depicting an oak tree that spanned across both doors. Where there wasn’t a trunk or a limb and leaves, there was thick opaque glass, to complete the doors. Even now, she was overwhelmed at the love her grandfather had for her grandmother, commissioning a Colorado artist to design and manufacture them. Inside the tall foyer, the chandelier was made out of glass leaves. It seemed appropriate considering the door was an oak tree. The grand oak staircase curved to the right, leading to the second floor. A matching staircase would take a guest from the second floor to the third.
Meagan and her husband pulled up behind Alex’s truck. They slowly got out, not looking too sure if they were in the right place. It did seem more like a hotel than a private home.
“Let’s go inside,” Candice told the family. As she unlocked the door, Meagan and Kyle unloaded the children. Alex stayed behind them, following Joshua and the dog into the foyer. He must want to keep an eye on the boy while he was here.
“Meagan, I want you to feel like this is your home,” Candice told her as she brought them through that dazzling foyer. “Grandfather’s bedroom was at the head of the stairs. If you don’t feel comfortable there, it’s okay. There are four other bedrooms on that floor to choose from, plus another six on the third floor. Five of the bedrooms have private bathrooms. The other six have Jack and Jill bathrooms.” She turned and looked at the group behind her. “My grandfather was an architect. When he designed this, he anticipated having a large family,” Candice quietly said. “He got only my mother.”
She had that museum tour guide feeling. She had to motion them farther into the house. “The linen closets are stuffed full, and the washer and dryer are in the room off the kitchen. Everything you need to do laundry is in the cabinets.”
She moved the group past the doorway, into the formal living room at the front of the house, and into the family room where the dining room and kitchen were easily seen. Grandfather had wanted an open concept way before it became fashionable. Most homes of those times had walls between each room with doors that made them secluded. Grandfather wanted to see everything that was going on, or maybe he was a touch claustrophobic. He had his home drafting office off the family room, too. The wall between the two was made of thick glass, which made it easier for him to keep his eye on her.
“I had a fence put around the swimming pool a few years ago.” Candice opened the drapes looking over the backyard. “The gate is self-latching, so your daughter is safe, but Joshua is old enough to get by it. It’s heated but turned off. You need to give it a good twenty-four hours to reach the temperature. The thermostat is in the pool house; so are the toys. There’s a nice big grassy yard for your dog to get plenty of exercise. Please clean up after him, Joshua. Lanning Landscaping comes on Friday mornings. Be prepared for the noise, and the housekeepers come on Mondays.”
Candice strode to the kitchen and opened a single drawer. She knew exactly what she was searching for and took out two fireplace lighters.
“These are the only lighters in the whole house, and I’m taking them with me.” Candice turned and saw she had everyone’s attention. “I have a friend who owes me a favor. I’ve texted her to buy a few essentials for a young family, a crib for the baby, things like that. She should have everything here by late this afternoon. You can order take-out for dinner this evening. There’s a list of my favorites tacked to the wall by the house phone. It may be outdated somewhat. It’s been a while since I’ve lived here. And there’s a grocery store about four miles away.”
Candice stepped closer to Meagan and lowered her voice. “I need to talk to Joshua, and I think I should do it without you or his step-dad staring at him, okay?”
“Yes, all right, Candice.” Meagan gazed around the big rooms. “This is all so overwhelming,” she said softly. “Are you sure it’s okay for us to be here?”
“Meagan—” Candice gave the mother a one armed hug— “This is my house, and I want you to be comfortable as my guests. Understand?”
“Thank you,” Meagan whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Feel free to rummage through the cabinets and drawers to get acquainted where everything is. My bedroom is the second on the right at the top of the stairs, and I still have the bathroom fully stocked with every appliance and toiletry known to womankind. They are yours to use and use up. There are enough different kinds of bubble bath to choose from, I’m sure you can find something you’d like.”
Candice let her loose and then gazed over at the boy. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking around. Even he seemed impressed with the house. Either he thought Grandfather did a good job, or he was scouting out what he could set on fire. Well, she planned on making that as hard as possible, like showing his parents where the fire extinguishers were kept on each floor.
“Joshua, I’d like to talk with you, please. Come with me.”
She led him on the long trek through the family room and into the library. She wanted him far enough away from his folks so that they couldn’t interfere in case she got a little loud. When she sat down in her favorite overstuffed chair, she motioned him to the matching one next to it. He declined. Not in words, but he stood next to
it like somehow it might grab and devour him if he got any closer. Fine.
“Joshua, are you ready to tell me who Zane is?” He continued to stand, but at least he looked over at some very fine old books—some very flammable old books.
“Is he one of your friends?” Still nothing. Okay, not that route. “Have you ever burned yourself when you set a fire?” He froze—just for a moment—before he walked closer to the shelves. “It hurt, didn’t it? Kind of made you forget about how mad you’ve been, how you’ve been hurting inside. But the pain on your skin didn’t last very long, and those other feelings returned.”
Candice watched him closely when she asked, “Joshua, where’s your dad?” With a lift of his shoulders he’d given her his first answer. It was a start. “Does he visit you?” He shook his head very slightly. “Do you go see him?”
“No . . . not anymore.”
He talked! She felt like she could yell for joy.
“You’ve lost touch with each other. That’s too bad,” she said quietly. “I hope he has a good reason for not calling you.” She waited to see any reaction from him. The lack of movement might’ve been that reaction. He was thinking about his dad. “I haven’t been able to talk to my father since I was eight years old. I wish there was a way I could do it.”
He turned and studied her for a moment, possibly to see if she was serious, or if it was some sort of trick.
“You don’t know where your dad is, either?”
Candice had to strain to hear his voice, he spoke so softly. She nodded her head and said, “Yeah, I know exactly where he is. But he has a great excuse for not calling me.”
“Why? What did you do?”
Good. He spoke up a little more. “I didn’t do anything. Three bad guys decided to rob a bank and kill him when he went to stop them. My dad was a cop.”
His brows rose. “Your dad is dead?”
“Yeah. Now that’s a good reason we haven’t talked, huh? I hope your dad has a really good reason, too.” When he stayed quiet, she asked, “Have you ever tried to think of why your dad hasn’t tried to call you, or send you a letter?” He slowly shook his head while he stared at the carpet. She carefully said, “Maybe . . . he’s dead, too.”