Out of the Ashes

by Anne Galbraith

  He’d wondered if Dan was upset about Allison, but they’d kept their relationship secret.

  He’d have heard from his friends if word had gotten out about him and Allison. His friends would have praised him. But he and Allison had been very careful because Allison didn’t want to upset her fiancé. And it was stupid, but it would cause her more trouble than it would Lanford. It wasn’t fair, but there was a double standard. Lanford would be seen as a player, and she’d be called names like slut. She wouldn’t have said anything.

  “Drugs?”

  He clenched his jaw. “Only for fun, I never dealt anything, and it wasn’t any more of a problem than anything else.”

  “Maybe someone told your brother it was?”

  He raised his palms. “Maybe. Maybe someone told him I was going to rob the bank or blow up the school or any stupid thing. I don’t know, and no one ever came up with anything.”

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed.

  “Then someone is holding back. Maybe the killer told Dan a story to get him to return that night. Maybe their problem was with Dan.”

  A part of him hoped that was right, that Dan hadn’t died for something Lanford did, but it was hard to believe. Dan had been a decent guy. No cover-up, no agenda, just a thoroughly good guy.

  “I’ve considered it.” He’d thought about a lot of possibilities. “But unless your friend finds something out at Penn State, there’s nothing. People loved Dan.”

  Sarah huffed. Maybe she was frustrated with him. Maybe she didn’t want to deal with this anymore. He wouldn’t blame her, but he wasn’t stopping.

  “Well, we’ve found two things in your favor. Maybe three.”

  “That storage place, that it’s not doing well.”

  Sarah nodded. “And your brother had a reason for coming back that night. Someone knows that reason, and they’ve kept that a secret.”

  That almost sounded...hopeful.

  “And the third thing?”

  “You’re either lying, or you’re kind enough to save a woman from getting into trouble, even when it might have helped your case.”

  “It wouldn’t have.”

  “Even so, it speaks to some good in your character. Maybe we should talk to her. I could reach out if you don’t want to.”

  Lanford shook his head. “There’s no point in blowing up her life. She can’t help.”

  Sarah stared at him, but he kept his gaze down. She sighed.

  “Let’s see if there’s anything else.”

  Sarah dug through the reports with him for another hour, but they couldn’t find anything. Lanford excused himself. He didn’t want to take up all her time and get her in trouble. He was selfish and wanted her to keep on helping him.

  Also, he didn’t want to have to dig into more details about the rotten punk he’d been. Stupid, but she thought he’d shown some signs of decency. Might as well not shatter that belief.

  Chapter Nine

  Sarah folded up the Davies file and returned it to the drawer in her desk.

  Maybe it would turn out to be nothing, but there were enough inconsistencies to make her think Lanford could be right.

  It was too bad Billy Robertson hadn’t been part of the storage facility plan. He had enough hatred for Lanford to have caused him harm. He must have been very attached to Lanford’s brother to still be this upset. Even going so far as to detour all the way to Balsam Grove to check out what Lanford was doing. According to Arthur, he’d had reason to be upset.

  Yet, even if Lanford had been the one to set the fire, as was the truth as far as anyone knew, no one believed Lanford had deliberately set out to injure or kill his family. It was a drunken prank gone very wrong, and one that had hurt Lanford more than anyone.

  Billy’s anger was more than she’d have expected.

  Had Billy learned something about Lanford? Had he been the one to warn Dan? If so, why hadn’t he come forward to share what it was?

  She didn’t think he’d tell her if she asked him.

  Sarah shook her head. She might never find the answers to these questions. Chad might have found out something about Dan at college.

  Maybe she should ask about the Davies family around town. Eighteen years was a long time, though. There might only be a limited number of people remaining who could talk to her about Lanford and his family.

  She’d yet to ask her predecessor for his insights, fearing he’d be defensive about his case. But she was running out of leads. She sent off a quick email, hoping Roy would respond to this one, even if he’d refused to answer her previous questions.

  She locked her desk drawer, determined to set aside any further questions about the Davieses until she had more information. Her phone rang and she answered, hoping there might be something interesting going on in town to keep her busy.

  Apparently, there was. Her caller was complaining about kids causing trouble at Pastor Harold’s church.

  “Festus, come on. Let’s see how you do with crowd control.”

  Festus crawled out from under her desk, tail tucked tightly between his legs. She clipped on the leash and encouraged him out to the sheriff’s SUV.

  It took two minutes to arrive at the church.

  The kids were there holding up signs. It was a protest.

  She stopped the vehicle and opened her door.

  “Coming, Festus?”

  He wrapped his paws over his head. Sarah rolled her eyes. Add crowd control to the long list of things Festus didn’t do.

  She crossed the road to the dozen or so high school students standing on the church lawn, holding up handmade signs.

  “Hey, guys, what’s going on?”

  One girl marched forward, jaw up, eyes sparking.

  “We’re protesting. You have no right to stop us. We’re recording this, and we’ll report any signs of police brutality.”

  Sarah studied her. She suspected the girl would appreciate a bit of oppression, for the excitement value if nothing else. But she could almost taste the good intentions exuding from the small crowd.

  She looked around. On the other side of the street, an elderly gentleman sat on his front porch, arms crossed. There was her snitch.

  She glanced back at her protesters.

  “You guys staying hydrated? It’s getting toward summer, and it can be hot.”

  Wary eyes watched her. “Yeah, we have water.”

  “Let me see those signs.”

  “You have no right to confiscate them.”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, you don’t have to give them to me—I just want to read them.”

  The teens looked at each other, then spread out to show their signs. Some were on cardboard, some on poster paper, one was the back of a For Sale sign.

  Sarah read them. Big cities were having similar protests, and these kids just wanted to show their support. In this small town, though, there wasn’t a lot they could do.

  “I don’t see any swearing. I like how you shortened frustrating, very clever. Any spelling mistakes?”

  “Is there a law against spelling mistakes?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, but my grade ten English teacher was a terror. I’m still worried about her finding out that I’ve made a public mistake.

  “But you’re all good. If you have any problems, give me a call.”

  She walked over to the man watching, almost vibrating with his disapproval. He started to yell as soon as she was within speaking distance.

  “Aren’t you going to stop them? They should be in school. Not this foolishness.”

  This man was more likely to instigate a problem than her protesters.

  “They’re on church property, so only Pastor Harold can ask me to move them. I’m not a truant officer, so it’s up to their parents and the school if they’re skipping classes. What they’re doing isn’t b
reaking any laws, so I’m going back to the station.

  “If you see anyone hassling them, give me a call. That might be something I need to deal with.”

  Anger flared in the man’s eyes, but she wasn’t an elected official, not for this one-year interim position. No one had run when Ron Harding retired, so she wasn’t worrying about votes. She had a lot more sympathy for the kids than for this man.

  Festus welcomed her return with relief, and she drove slowly to the station. Apparently, the excitement was over for the day, unless her snitch turned his hose on the protesters. That would give them a story, and she might have a chance to use her handcuffs.

  The Davies case still tickled her brain, but she resolutely set it aside and decided on more digitizing for the afternoon. Mentally, she urged Chad to get busy with Penn State, but her telekinetic powers were as useless as Festus right now.

  * * *

  Sarah went to the town diner for lunch. The place had good coffee, terrible decor and food that ranged from good to questionable. Sarah had now, after several months, figured out that the simpler the item on the menu, the better. She ordered a BLT with a salad on the side and looked around the diner for prospective gossips.

  There weren’t many customers now. People tended to eat right at noon, but Sarah had been called out for the protest, then dropped her vehicle and Festus at the station. She’d missed the midday rush.

  When her waitress brought out her sandwich, Sarah nodded at the chair across from her.

  “Do you have a minute?”

  The waitress was an older woman named Phyllis, whom Sara had chatted with at one of the local churches. She yelled back to her husband, the cook.

  “Jeff, I’m taking five.”

  She returned to the counter to pour herself a coffee, then sat down across from Sarah. Sarah noted that the customers still lingering over their own meals were paying attention.

  “So, what’s up, Sheriff?” Phyllis took a drink of her coffee, then leaned back, stretching out her legs with a sigh.

  “You’ve lived in Balsam Grove for a while, right?”

  “All my life.” She didn’t sound excited about it.

  Sarah quirked up a tiny smile. “How do you feel about gossiping?”

  Phyllis grinned. “If you’re the one asking, it’s my civic duty, now, isn’t it? Is this about the kids over at the church?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, I’m interested in something from a while back. The Davies family?”

  There was a moment of silence in the diner. Every head turned her way. Jeff even came out from the kitchen.

  “Is this about Lanford?” the waitress asked.

  “Indirectly. I have a lot of information on him in the files. I was wondering about his father and brother.”

  Her brows creased. “Why?”

  One of the men at another table spoke up. “I heard Lanford still says he’s innocent.”

  Jeff snorted. “He was a punk. If he didn’t do it, then who did? Tell me that?”

  Sarah broke in. “Lewis and Riordan didn’t have any enemies?”

  Everyone looked at Sarah again but it was Phyllis who spoke. “Enemies? No one around here has enemies. I mean, Bella and Nadia would each be happy to see the other one leave town, and when Billy Robertson moved away, we all said good riddance, but that’s as bad as it gets.

  “Lewis and Dan were good people. Nobody wished any harm on them. The whole town threw a party for Dan when he left on that scholarship. We were proud of him. And his dad, after his wife died, he never said boo to a goose.”

  A voice chipped in from the back table.

  “She was a saint, that’s what Marta, his wife, was.”

  That all supported the information Sarah had and didn’t help her with this case at all.

  “Neither of them dated anyone here, had any money troubles...?”

  It was a long shot, but it was all Sarah had.

  Jeff pointed a finger at her. “Anyone tells you something like that about Lew or Dan, they’re lying. They were good men, and it was a tragedy that we lost them. If Lan’s back here, trying to stir up trouble, you don’t pay any attention to him. No one would have set that fire to hurt either of them.”

  She decided to take the bull by the horns.

  “What about Lanford? Would someone have set the fire to hurt him?”

  The locals exchanged glances.

  “Lanford was getting in a lot of trouble,” said Phyllis.

  “I heard he was going to be expelled,” Jeff added.

  “Nah,” said the guy in the back. “He’d charm those teachers every time they caught him. The sheriff, though—he wasn’t going to be charmed. Lan was going to get caught, and then—”

  The speaker broke off, undoubtedly realizing that Lanford had been caught.

  The conversation petered out. The town might like to gossip, but she was a newcomer, and they’d only speak so much.

  “Just one last question.” Sarah finished her meal and pushed the plate aside. “Lewis and Riordan were supposed to be on a delivery for another five days. Does anyone know why they came back that night?”

  Phyllis pursed her lips. Her husband scratched his neck. The other diners leaned back.

  “Did the school call about Lan?” Someone hazarded the guess, but the tone revealed it was nothing but a guess.

  “Lanford was running all over town on that bike of his. Maybe someone complained about it?”

  Jeff shook his head. “They wouldn’t come back from a job for that. And the school didn’t call—I heard the sheriff asked.”

  Sarah dropped money on the table to cover her meal and a generous tip. “So no one knows the answer?”

  Sarah wasn’t an expert at reading faces and body language, but with what skills she had, she doubted anyone was lying as they all denied knowing why the Davieses had returned that night.

  She’d keep asking but she suspected the answer was either a mystery to everyone in town or was a long-buried secret held by only one person.

  * * *

  Lanford screwed in the last corner of the switch plate and then flicked the light on. It glowed with a soft, warm light. He allowed himself a smile.

  It was a simple fix, but very satisfying.

  “Amazing.”

  Pastor Harold appeared behind him, his honest face beaming.

  Lanford stepped aside, and the pastor reached over, turned the switch off and then on again.

  “I’ve been frustrated by that switch for a year now.”

  “It’s not that hard to fix it.”

  Harold sighed. “Probably not, but it’s not a talent I possess.”

  Lanford wondered why he hadn’t asked someone to do it for him, but his years in prison had taught him not to ask questions. Lanford was just grateful that he had work to do, and that he’d been able to so easily impress this man who was helping him out.

  “I’m thrilled to have that light working, but I actually came to ask you if you wanted to take a break. I have some scones, and there’s coffee on.”

  Lanford knew Harold was a good, kind man, but he didn’t believe this was a random talk. He appreciated the gesture, but he was expecting this was the prelude to something. The way things had gone for him, he didn’t expect it would be good.

  He followed Harold to his office, where the pastor fussed over Lanford, giving him a scone and some coffee. When he was sure Lanford had everything he could provide him with, he sat in his own chair behind his desk. He met Lanford’s eyes.

  The man sighed. Lanford braced himself. He was going to be asked to leave.

  “I’m glad to share some food with you, and I do need to get to know you better, but I asked you here for a reason.”

  Lanford nodded.

  Harold looked unhappy. He was definitely going to ask Lan to leave.
>
  “I’m a little slow to get the local gossip. I’m not a fan of people talking about others behind their backs. I may have been a little vehement about that, so people are slow to tell me things.”

  Lanford wondered what Harold had been told. He thought Harold already knew the worst. After all, Lanford’s crimes weren’t a secret.

  “I knew you were getting out of prison, but I wasn’t aware that you were investigating your case.”

  It was a different way to express it. But Lanford would be honest with the man.

  “I didn’t set the fire, and I want to find out who did.”

  Harold looked even more unhappy. Some of his congregants must have been complaining. Lanford was sorry, because Harold was a truly Christian man, and he hated to make his life more difficult.

  Harold drew in a breath and gazed at Lanford. “Why? And what do you plan to do if you discover the guilty party?”

  Lanford took a moment to compose his thoughts. He didn’t have much planned past finding out what had really happened that night.

  “I would like my name to be cleared.” His future would have more options if he wasn’t an ex-con, but instead, a wrongly imprisoned innocent man. Only innocent wasn’t the right term. Innocent of this one thing, at least.

  “And the person who did this? Should not be able to do it again.” The person had not only destroyed the Davies home and killed his father and brother, they’d let him go to prison for it.

  “Do you plan to make sure personally that this other person is unable to do it again?” Harold waved his hand. “Let me make that clearer—are you looking for revenge?”

  Lanford leaned back. He should have expected this question, but he hadn’t, not from Pastor Harold.

  “No, sir.”

  Harold looked skeptical.

  Lanford wanted to be able to stay in the apartment over the parsonage. He wanted to make himself useful around the property. He appreciated this chance to dig into what had happened eighteen years ago, and he believed he was following God’s path when he did this. Not only had He provided this place to stay and work to do, but the sheriff was helping him.