Maybe she was checking on him.
Maybe she just wanted to talk to him. He didn’t have a phone, after all. After talking to Harold, she’d come over to greet him and asked if he’d stop by the station when he had a chance, because she had information for him.
Had her contact found information on Dan?
One of those stabs of grief shot through him. In prison, he’d had to shut that all down. But here, among the places where he’d spent time with his family, that pain was resurfacing.
The town had changed, but not enough to prevent the memories.
He was determined to find justice for his family. To prove that his parents hadn’t raised a criminal. To make sure the real killer wasn’t free to do more damage.
He’d take all the help this sheriff could provide. He just needed to remember her ultimate duty was to the law. Not to him.
* * *
Harold took Mondays off, so Lanford did, as well. He went to meet the sheriff first thing Monday morning.
It was another beautiful day, and he was grateful that he was outside and free to enjoy it. The walk to the office was short. The door was open, so he went in.
There was a whimper, and a brown streak shot to the back room.
The sheriff sighed.
“Thanks for the support, Festus!” she called out, before turning to greet Lanford.
“Mr. Davies.” She held out her hand.
He appreciated the respect that demonstrated. She wasn’t mocking him.
“You can call me Lanford, or Lan.” He repeated the offer, hoping she’d take him up on it. He’d never been called Mr. Davies until he’d been arrested. He’d rather she used his name.
“Okay, Lanford. You can call me Sarah.”
Sarah. He liked that name. It suited her.
The dog, however? Its head was now poking around the doorway, eyeing him fearfully.
“Why did you name him Festus?”
Sarah waved Lanford to the seat in front of her desk and sat back down in her own.
“Festus came with the job. The name was already attached to him.”
He took a moment to watch the dog. That kept him from noticing how good she looked. He even liked the faint scent that lingered near her. That thought led to trouble, though. It was better to focus on Festus.
“What kind of police work does he do?”
“You just saw it.”
His glance shot back to her, waiting to catch the smile and share the joke.
She just shrugged.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. He came with the job. I’ve found no paperwork related to him, no training information, and he has yet to answer even one command.”
“Then why is he here?”
Sarah sighed. “What else am I going to do with him? The previous sheriff left for Florida before I got the key to this place. He hasn’t answered my calls since. I’ve had to figure out most of this job on my own. Maybe there’s some skill Festus has—I tried drug-sniffing, but he wouldn’t come near the stuff. He could be a bomb-sniffing dog, or a cadaver dog, but there’s not much call for that around here.”
Lanford agreed.
“And if you knew he couldn’t do any of that stuff?”
Sarah held up her hands and smiled. “He’s mine now, for better or worse. And he does have one skill. He’s great at tripping. I’ve only fallen on my behind once, but there have been too many close calls to mention. For the moment, he’s my agility training dog. I’m learning to be very agile on my feet.”
Festus was staring at them as if he understood, and his tail moved up and down a couple of times.
“Is he wagging his tail?”
Sarah nodded. “He’s very talented. But enough about Festus the wonder dog. Let’s talk about your project.”
Lanford was happy to let the discussion of the dog go.
“You found out something about Dan?” He was curious, but apprehensive. He loved his brother, and he couldn’t imagine Dan getting into the kind of trouble that would get himself killed.
Sarah shook her head. “Not yet. I called my guy, and he’s working on it. I’ll give you a heads-up when I hear from him, but it probably will take some time. I couldn’t ask him to deprioritize active cases he’s working on. He’s doing this as a favor for me.”
“I appreciate it.” Lanford didn’t want to come across as pushy. Sarah was doing him a favor, and a bigger one than he could have ever expected.
It wasn’t likely that they’d find an answer very quickly. Nothing had popped up eighteen years ago, so this wasn’t a surface issue, something easy to find. For the first time he wondered if she would get in trouble for helping him. She said she wanted to find the truth, but that truth could lead to a wrongful conviction and blot on the police department’s record.
He should reassure her that he was doing his part, as well, not just waiting for her to do everything.
“I called the company my dad worked for.”
Sarah tilted her head. “How did that go?”
“The man my dad worked for, Marvin Dawson, is retired—his daughter is running the business now. But she gave me his phone number, so when I have a chance to head into the city, I’ll ask him to talk to me.”
“I go into Pittsburgh occasionally—maybe you can hitch a ride next trip.”
“Thank you.” He did nothing but accept help from this woman. She was either truly nice, or she was keeping a close watch over him. Or both. He should be careful about how much he accepted from her. If she was to decide to shut down the case, he would have nothing to fight back with.
Nothing concrete, at least.
Sarah gave a quick nod and then pulled out a sheet of paper.
“This is what I’ve come up with so far. This is the list of people who own U-Stor.”
He looked up from the sheet of paper to find her gaze on him. Something moved in his chest. She didn’t have to do this, and she didn’t have to share with him.
Maybe he could trust her. The idea warmed and scared him. The list of people he trusted was short.
She passed the paper to his side of the desk.
“Any of those names sound familiar?”
Chapter Seven
Sarah watched Lanford as he reached for the list of names.
After just a few days here in Balsam Grove, his complexion was gaining color. He was still guarded but looked less wary.
Sarah was on the opposite side of the judicial system from where he’d been for the last eighteen or more years. That was one thing that bothered her about being a police officer. She didn’t want to be against people. If Lanford hadn’t burned down his family home, if someone else had and he’d served the time for it, then the justice system had let him down.
She wanted to show that it could work. That it was a system meant to protect, not to harm. That she was like her father.
She pulled her thoughts in. Right now, there was no proof that the system had failed Lanford. If he was guilty, it had only punished him for something he’d done, something that had taken lives. Her instinct might say he was as innocent as he claimed, but she was supposed to be objective.
She couldn’t fail on that again, so she’d repeat the message to herself until it stuck.
Lanford was reading the names on her paper.
He frowned.
“I don’t know any Thurstons. Are they from around here?”
Sarah had held back the addresses she found. That was objectivity—in case Lanford recognized a name and it led him to consider revenge. She wouldn’t make it easy for him to find them.
She shook her head. The Thurstons were from Pittsburgh, business associates of the other owners.
Lanford moved on to the next name.
“The Barstows are local. I never knew them, though. They didn’
t have any kids my age, and I think he worked at the bank, or something? He used to ride in a car in parades and show up at the Fourth of July.”
Wendall Barstow had retired as bank manager five years ago. They spent winters in Florida and hadn’t returned to Balsam Grove yet.
“Walter Robertson—he was Billy’s father, right?”
Sarah frowned. She hadn’t looked far enough into the people to find all their family associations.
“You knew him?”
Lanford’s brows were drawn. “If he was Billy’s father, then Dan knew him. Dan and Billy were friends.”
The pieces clicked in her head. Her neighbor Arthur had told her about Riordan befriending the bullied rich kid. That was why the name Robertson had been familiar.
“Were there other Robertsons in town?”
Lanford shook his head slowly. “Not when I was here. The Robertsons had a lot of money, I remember, and people thought that’s why Dan was friends with Billy. It wasn’t, though. Billy was picked on a lot, and Dan wanted to stand by him.
“I never liked Billy, but he and Dan were pretty tight.”
Well, no motive there.
“Can you think of any reason the Robertsons would have invested in a storage facility that could relate to you?”
Lanford lifted his head and shrugged. “Not really. Billy liked Dan, and I’m sure his folks did, as well. Everyone liked Dan.”
She heard the sadness in his voice. His lips were pressed tightly together, as if he was holding something back. Or holding something in.
By all accounts, Dan had been an excellent young man. Lanford, with no family remaining, must miss him. And if Lanford hadn’t lit that fire, then someone else had.
So far, they hadn’t found any reason. They were looking into the pasts of the father and son, but nothing indicated they had crossed anyone. There was a very good chance that Lanford, the boy who’d been getting into trouble, might be the indirect cause, if not the direct one.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Lanford. Your brother and father were good people.”
He glanced away and swallowed. “Thank you. They were.”
Sarah reminded herself that she had no reason to trust Lanford. But looking at him, there was no doubt that Lanford grieved his family. If he had set the fire, she was sure he’d had no idea his family was in the house.
She leaned back in her chair, reaching for some distance, some physical distance even though her mental distance was the problem. She tried to put her cop face on.
Lanford was still examining the list.
“Did you talk to any of these people to ask why they built U-Stor?”
Sarah shook her head.
“The Thurstons are a wealthy family in Pittsburgh. Influential people don’t like to be bothered without good reason. The Barstows haven’t returned from Florida yet, so I was waiting to see if you thought they were a potential link.”
“That makes sense, but Billy’s parents should be here. They knew Dan, so they might want to help.”
“They’re dead, Lanford.”
His eyes widened. If the news didn’t surprise him, he was a good actor.
“All of them? Is Billy dead, too?”
“Walter Robertson died in a car crash a couple of years after U-Stor was built. Billy is alive, but he married and moved to Pittsburgh.
“Would Billy know anything about his father’s business?”
Lanford shrugged.
“Billy was Dan’s friend, not mine. They never hung out at our place. Billy’s place was nicer, and Billy was a snob.”
Sarah knew she’d reacted, because Lanford’s gaze moved to her again.
It was the first unkind thing she’d heard him say about a particular person.
“Ask around. No one could stand Billy except Dan. Even Dan was sorrier for him than anything else, so they weren’t together all the time.”
“Billy was a loner?”
Sarah was grasping at straws. Why would Billy set fire to his only friend’s house?
But Lanford was shaking his head again.
“No, people hung out with Billy because he had money.” Catching the expression on her face, he continued. “Billy got a brand-new sports car when he turned sixteen. His family had the biggest swimming pool of the few we had here. Billy would throw parties, and people sucked up to him to get invites, back before he went to college.
“Before that, before Billy learned how to use his money to his advantage, he used to get beat up for showing off his stuff. Dan stood up for him, but he told Billy to tone down the bragging so that people wouldn’t hate him.
“Billy had lots of people around him, but they were using him, all except Dan. Dan couldn’t go to the parties because he was in training or helping Dad on some of the long delivery runs. Dan was the guy who’d check up on Billy when the parties were over.”
The door to the sheriff’s station had opened while Lanford was speaking.
A man walked through the door. He wasn’t tall, but he had more than enough confidence to make up for that. His clothes were expensive, his hair styled with every strand in place, and the cologne that came with him smelled of money.
The man didn’t waste a glance on Sarah. He was staring at Lanford, and his expression broadcast his hatred.
“You’re right. Dan was the one decent person in this crap town.”
The man’s nose wrinkled, as if he smelled something he didn’t like.
“I heard you were back, Lan. I couldn’t believe you’d dare show your face here after killing Dan.”
* * *
Billy had changed.
That was a stupid thought. In eighteen years, everyone had changed. But Billy had changed more than anyone else he’d seen.
Life had been good to him. It was there in his clothes, in his swagger, in the way he walked in here like he called the shots.
He and Lanford had never been friends, but Billy had never looked at Lanford with hatred. Not like he was now.
Lanford stood, reacting to the threat Billy was projecting.
Billy had been taking care of himself—he seemed fit. But Lanford was still taller, and he’d had a lot of hours to kill and frustration to vent while he was in prison. He’d spent that time working out. Lanford could handle Billy in a fight.
Billy had never been in a prison fight. Those had no rules, except winning.
Lanford unclenched his fists. He wasn’t going to get in a fight. Especially not in front of the sheriff.
“Billy.” Lanford didn’t rebut Billy’s accusation. He’d been tried and convicted for that crime. The only way people would believe him innocent was if he could prove it.
“I’m Bill now. What are you doing in here? Arrested again already?”
It seemed Billy had also gained a meanness that Lanford didn’t remember from before.
“I’m Sarah Winfrey, the sheriff. You are?”
Sarah had stood and moved toward the newcomer. She’d pulled herself to her full height, which was level with Billy. Bill. Her voice was cold.
Billy turned his attention to her. “I’m Bill Robertson. If you have any problems with this man, I’d be happy to help you out.”
“That’s generous of you, Mr. Robertson, but I’m more than capable of handling my job on my own.”
“I’d heard from people that he—” Bill jerked his chin toward Lanford “—was back and came to warn you about him.”
“You must have been very concerned to come all the way to Balsam Grove. You’re not local anymore, are you?”
Bill’s mouth twitched. “I live in Pittsburgh now, but I have interests all over. I was heading this way when I heard Lanford had shown up again. We have a business locally.”
“Would that be U-Stor? I wasn’t aware you had any other interests in this community now.”
“Yes, my dad helped build that place. Has there been trouble there? Did that criminal do something to the place? I’ll press charges.”
“I’m not aware of any problems at the U-Stor facility, but you might have heard before I did. Is there any problem that you came to look into?”
Billy let out a frustrated breath. “No.”
Sarah cocked her head. “You’re clearly a very successful businessman. I’m a little surprised that you came all this way to warn me about Mr. Davies unless you’d been planning to be here anyway for the storage facility. Does the place have some particular meaning for you?”
Billy’s eyes narrowed. “No, it doesn’t. It was my father’s project. I inherited it when he died. I don’t deal with the management of it at all. Nothing to do with me. I was on my way to check out some property in New Castle.”
His gaze moved back to Lanford.
“Have you been out to check on your old home, Lan? Return to the scene of the crime? Isn’t that what criminals do?”
Lanford stood stiffly.
“Did you get your dad to raze the place to get back at me?”
Bill thrust his chin up.
“I couldn’t be bothered to have anything to do with you, Lan. You’re garbage. Always were, always will be.”
Sarah interrupted, her arms crossed.
“Mr. Robertson, if you aren’t checking on your business, then your only reason to take this detour is because Mr. Davies is out of prison. That’s a lot of bother.”
“I came to warn you.”
“That was very...considerate of you. But a phone call wouldn’t have sufficed?”
Bill narrowed his eyes.
“Shouldn’t you be more worried about a convict showing up in your town, Ms. Sheriff?”
“Mr. Davies has served his time and is on parole. If he breaks the terms of his parole, then I will be involved. So far, he’s come by to inform me he’s here, and I’ve seen him in church. None of those things have required any action on my part.”
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