Out of the Ashes

by Anne Galbraith

  That was more than he’d even thought to ask for.

  But Harold wanted reassurance that Lanford was not here to do damage. Lanford took a breath, and decided it was time to share.

  After all these years, he found it difficult to do. He breathed a quick prayer and prepared to tell Harold what had changed him.

  “When I was arrested and tried eighteen years ago, I was shocked. Grieving. I didn’t completely understand what was going on.

  “Then I wound up in prison. That was another shock, but the grieving turned to anger.”

  Lanford shifted uncomfortably.

  “I got into some fights. I lost most of them, but I didn’t care. I just had so much hate and anger inside that I had to get it out.

  “It could have been really bad for me. But my cellmate was a lifer. He was a big guy, kept some of the threats away from me, but most importantly, he was a Christian.”

  He could sense Pastor Harold’s interest picking up in his story, but the man stayed quiet at his desk, hands folded on some paperwork.

  He was a great listener. A good trait for a pastor.

  “For the first couple of years, Anton had a hard time with me. I mocked him when he read the Bible and prayed. It was obvious to me that God, if He existed, didn’t care much for me or for Anton.”

  Lanford could feel his expression softening as he thought of the big, tough, patient man who’d been his cellmate.

  “Anton prayed for me, protected me and took my abuse until I couldn’t stand it anymore. He showed more of God’s love to me than I’d ever seen in my life.”

  Lanford smiled. He couldn’t help it when he thought of Anton.

  “He beat me. Not physically. He just won me over. Next thing I know, I’m reading the Bible and praying with him. And we talked.

  “As we got closer to when I was going to be released, we talked about what I was going to do. We prayed about it. We made sure I was going to do this right.”

  They had talked a lot. Prayed a lot. Lanford had years of stored-up anger and resentment.

  “If the fire hadn’t happened, I probably would have still ended up in prison, this time for something I had done. I was going down a bad road. And despite that, God took what was a terrible experience and worked some good from it.

  “I’m not doing this for revenge, because God won’t bless that, and because then I could end up in prison again. That’s something I don’t want.”

  “‘Vengeance is mine,’” Pastor Harold quoted.

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m very relieved to hear that. You do have a lot to be bitter about. You’re so quiet, I wasn’t sure if you were sitting on a volcano of negative emotions, waiting to blow when you found out who had harmed your family.”

  Pastor Harold spoke as if it was proven that Lanford was innocent. It touched Lanford, more than he could say.

  It made him want to protect the man. He was too trusting. He hadn’t seen the other side of people, the way Lanford had. Prison had changed him. It had brought him faith, but it had also exposed him to some of the worst kind of people, on both sides of the bars.

  But Harold trusted God, and Lanford couldn’t deny him that. He’d just be handy in case God wanted to use him to protect Harold.

  “Are you okay if I stay at the parsonage, keep working for you?”

  “Oh, of course. I wasn’t going to ask you to leave, no matter what your intentions were. Now I don’t have the burden of praying you out of seeking revenge, which is a relief. I’m not good at confrontation.”

  Harold bit his lip and looked nervous. Lanford, who had relaxed, tensed again.

  “Would it be all right if I... I mean, you can say no, but...could I pray with you?”

  Lanford could count on one hand the number of people who cared enough to pray for him. Anton was one. The prison chaplain was another.

  Now Harold.

  For a moment, he wondered about Sarah, the sheriff. She came to church. It might just be a political gesture, but maybe she was a believer. Would she pray for him?

  Lanford brought his wayward thoughts under control. He bowed his head, letting Harold speak the words.

  It did look like God was blessing this venture.

  Chapter Ten

  Sarah didn’t hear from Chad or Lanford for several days. It shouldn’t have been a problem. She blamed the lack of other work for the way her mind continued to wander to the Davies file.

  She’d spoken to a few other people around town and found nothing that could be called a lead from any of those conversations. Lewis Davies had been a quiet man. His wife had been well loved, and her passing mourned. Everyone agreed that Lewis had been devastated by that loss and had thrown himself into work.

  The community understood, but also blamed him for Lanford’s escalating wildness. After Riordan left for school, Lanford started to spiral out of control.

  Dan had been as beloved as his mother. His friendship with Billy was constantly mentioned as an indication of how good a young man he’d been.

  There was no mention of misdeeds, love affairs or anything negative, except that they’d left Lanford mostly on his own, to Lanford’s detriment.

  People did tend to remember only good or bad in people who’d died, but if that was the case, the bad in the Davies family was so well hidden she might not be able to dig it up. As well, no one she talked to believed anyone but Lanford was responsible for the fire.

  When it came to Lanford’s list, the only item that might support his innocence was his own bad behavior. If he hadn’t lit that fire, then it seemed whoever did had wished Lanford harm.

  Sarah had received a couple more calls about the kids protesting, but there had been no other fallout. Pastor Harold had been pleased with her response, though her job was not to make the pastor happy. It did support her belief that she was doing her job in a way that would please God, however, and that was important to her.

  Finally, when she thought she couldn’t digitize another file, she got a call from Chad. He’d heard back from his contacts at the school and suggested they meet up and talk the next time she came into the city.

  Maybe Sarah should have insisted he give her the information over the phone, but she was short on work and long on curiosity. She set up a day when he was free to meet her and decided she should let Lanford know.

  After all, it was always possible that he’d get impatient and try to find out that information on his own. And if she was being honest, she wanted to see him.

  She drove over to the church. She noted that the protesters were gone. She parked her vehicle and spotted her quarry working on some plantings around the steps to the church.

  The slam of her door brought his head up. He stood, dusting his hands off on his pants.

  She was impressed again by his physical presence. He was tall and well muscled, moving with a natural grace. She suspected if his life had been different, he might have been an athlete like his brother.

  His complexion was browning from the time he was spending outdoors. The church lawn was smooth and weed free, and the flowers Lanford was planting were in a freshly turned bed, providing a cheery note.

  Pastor Harold wouldn’t be getting complaints about the work Lanford was doing.

  “Sheriff.” He greeted her, a questioning expression on his face.

  “Lanford. The place looks much better. I assume that’s all you, because I know Pastor Harold has a black thumb.”

  A smile crossed his face, revealing dimples. The wary, reserved man she’d met the first day in her station was warming up. She doubted he’d ever be as open as the kid he’d been, but he was overcoming some of the chains of his past.

  She wanted to prove his case, bring him back to the person he should have been, as much as she could. But she had to be careful. Did she have some natural weakness that inclined her to
help people on the wrong side of the law? Would she end up bending the rules, like her grandfather?

  She was getting too involved.

  “I enjoy working outside.” He glanced around. “After prison, it feels really good.”

  “I just heard from my friend, the one who went to Penn State. I’m going into the city to have lunch with him next week.”

  “Thank you.” His feet shifted. “I was able to talk to my dad’s old boss. He’ll talk to me, but he’d prefer to do it in person. He had a stroke, so can’t get out much. When I can get some time off, I’ll catch the bus in and see if he has anything to help out.”

  Despite her warning to herself, she’d also offered to drive him into Pittsburgh.

  “Do you want to ride in with me?”

  Lanford narrowed his eyes, as if assessing her truthfulness.

  “When are you going?”

  “Monday.” When she said that, she realized she’d hoped for his company all along. He’d told her Monday was his day off.

  She sighed and Lanford noted it. “Anything wrong?”

  She shook her head because there was nothing he could do. Nothing that was his problem. “Just a work thing.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll call Mr. Dawson and see if he’s free on Monday.” His lips tightened. “I thought investigating my case was going to be easier to do.”

  She grinned. “That’s because you’re new at this. Finding out the truth about something that happened, especially something from so long ago? That can take a lot of time, a lot of patience and often a lot of ‘luck.’”

  “I’m praying for something other than luck.”

  She was, too. But she’d learned God didn’t always answer the way you wanted.

  “Well, I’m heading out Monday morning. Let me know if you want to come.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate it.”

  Sarah found herself waiting, wanting to come up with some reason to keep talking to Lanford, and mentally slapped herself. Not what she should be doing.

  She shouldn’t be biased about this case. She needed to spend less time with Lanford. She’d never had this kind of problem with anyone involved in a case before and she was afraid she’d handle this all wrong. Maybe her fellow officers had been right. Maybe that last case in the city had nudged her across a line.

  “Goodbye.” She forced herself to return to the car and Festus. She was regretting her offer already and hoped Mr. Dawson had a busy day planned for Monday.

  * * *

  He didn’t.

  Lanford left her a note the next day.

  She got the occasional note, and quite often it was...unpleasant. The older citizens of the town, and those who realized online complaints could be tracked down digitally would express their displeasure through written or printed notes. Most were signed, but some were deliberately unpleasant and anonymous. So far no one had resorted to cutting out letters from a newspaper or magazine, fortunately, but a handful of people were upset with a woman police officer. Half thought she was too harsh, half that she was too lenient. She’d received a note already this week about her lax response to the “dangerous” protests. She had a good idea who’d written that one.

  Lanford’s note, though, was on lined paper torn from a notebook.

  Mr. Dawson can talk to me anytime Monday. I can meet you at the station at 9, if that’s okay and you’re still willing to give me a lift.

  L

  Nine was just fine, so she didn’t need to find him to change the plan. And she refused to seek him out again. That Sunday, she attended one of the other churches in Balsam Grove.

  Monday morning she put aside her usual uniform, though that decision had nothing to do with Lanford Davies. Wearing a bit more makeup and taking time with her hair also was not related to him.

  She found him standing in front of the station when she pulled up in her personal car. He waited till she’d come to a stop, then moved to the passenger door. She used her power switch to lower the window.

  “Hop in.”

  “You don’t have to do anything inside the station?”

  Sarah shook her head. Lanford opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

  Sarah hadn’t wanted a big vehicle for her personal use. Now she second-guessed that decision as Lanford seemed to fill the empty space. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans again, but the clothes were clean and he’d shaven.

  He probably didn’t have more clothes. That didn’t need to make her feel things for him.

  “Do you have an address for this man you’re seeing?”

  Lanford lifted his hips to pull out his wallet and took out another piece of notebook paper, this one with an address written down on it. He passed it to Sarah, and she punched the address into the car’s GPS.

  Lanford shook his head. “I have a lot to get used to.”

  She cast her mind back to the technology of eighteen years ago. It had changed a lot.

  She almost apologized, but it wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t her job to update him. They weren’t friends, or anything else. She needed to remind herself.

  Sarah put the car in gear and pulled out into the street. This was going to be a long two hours.

  * * *

  Sarah looked pretty.

  He’d never seen her out of uniform before. In uniform, it was easier to think of her as the sheriff, and even though she’d said he could call her Sarah, he didn’t when they were around other people. He tried not to think of her by her name when he could.

  Without the uniform, she was Sarah, not Sheriff, but he was still an ex-con.

  Maybe, if he could prove his innocence, he could dream about finding someone like Sarah. Someone who didn’t see all his mistakes when they looked at him and was willing to take him for who he was now.

  Though he wasn’t completely sure who he was himself.

  In any case, he could try to maintain a conversation like a normal person. He glanced around the car.

  “No Festus?”

  He’d never seen her without Festus hiding under her desk or in her car.

  “He wouldn’t be welcomed in the restaurant where I’m meeting Chad, and I can’t leave him in the car in this heat. My neighbor Arthur is taking care of him for the day.”

  “Mr. Simpson?” The name slipped out, familiar from his high school days.

  Sarah nodded. “That’s right, he was your teacher.”

  Lanford swallowed. He could only imagine the stories Mr. Simpson would have about Lanford.

  A thought popped in his head, and he spoke without pause.

  “You live alone?”

  As soon as the words were out, he wanted to claw them back.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. The ex-con can’t ask a woman if she’s living alone.”

  There was a lot of adjusting to this new reality.

  Sarah was smiling, though, not offended.

  “Lanford, there are very few secrets in this town. Everyone knows I live alone.”

  Not everyone. He hadn’t known.

  There were a few secrets, though, things not everyone was privy to. He had a couple, and there was still the big one. Who had set the fire eighteen years ago?

  Sarah had stopped talking, and her smile had vanished. She must be thinking about the unexposed secrets, too.

  Lanford used to be able to charm people. He’d been good at conversation. Surely, he could manage to talk for the next two hours without making things weird.

  “I’m glad you have someone to keep an eye on Festus. We had a dog when I was young. Because we lived outside of town, he had the run of the property and we didn’t have to worry about leaving him.”

  Sarah followed the new conversational gambit. “He didn’t run away?”

  “My mom trained him.” He smiled. His mother had ha
d a way with animals. After she died, though, his dad wouldn’t allow another pet.

  “Too bad she wasn’t here to do something with Festus.”

  Lanford closed his eyes. It was too easy to imagine how much different his life would have been if his mother was still alive.

  But then he wondered if she’d have been at home the night of the fire. Would there have been a fire that night if she’d lived?

  It would be a hamster wheel running nonstop if he let his mind go there. He needed to get out of his own head and talk like a normal person.

  “Did you have pets growing up?”

  The question was lame, but it took the conversation away from his mother or anything too personal.

  But Lanford wanted to ask her personal questions. Had she always been single? Why had she come to Balsam Grove from the city? Was she seeing anyone?

  He couldn’t ask those questions. As nice and pretty as Sarah was, she was still a cop. She was one of the good ones, he was sure, but that didn’t mean her friends and coworkers were. Even if they were, they wouldn’t be happy if she started dating an ex-con.

  Why did he even think he had a chance with her? He’d lost his ability to charm and flirt, so that wasn’t going to help him. Right now, he needed to keep all his focus on exonerating himself anyway.

  It was possible she was pretending to be helping him and would take any information he gave her and use it against him. He didn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it, but he was stupid if he didn’t consider the possibility.

  He became aware of silence in the car. He’d lost the thread of the conversation, gone into his head and missed what she’d said. He shook himself mentally and asked her to repeat it.

  It was a relief when the GPS directed them off the highway. Spending too much time with Sarah wasn’t good for him.

  Which was unfortunate because he enjoyed her company.

  “This looks like the place on the right.” Sarah slowed the car to a crawl. “Number 535, right?”

  Lanford nodded, noting the accessibility adjustments that had been made to the house. That added support to it being the right house.