The bartender was unconcerned, but Sarah wasn’t going to let this slide. It would be the first lie she’d come across, and a lie meant someone was hiding something.
“Billy was away at school, then he got a job in the city. He didn’t build U-Stor, and he didn’t have the money himself to buy the property.” Those were truths, as far as Sarah had been able to ascertain.
The bartender frowned. “Yeah, I’m not sure why, but I thought Billy was in on that. He was still around town that summer, I know, but I don’t know what he was doing—we didn’t run in the same circles. Still, doesn’t prove anything.”
No, no it didn’t. But if Billy had been involved, then he’d lied to her. And someone lying about a detail that shouldn’t matter could turn out to be something.
She finished her drink, said thanks and slid off the stool. The jukebox had moved on to another song, so the place shouldn’t need her the rest of the night. She could head home, take Festus for one last walk and enjoy her evening.
And try not to chew over this inconsistency. She’d told herself she was done with the case.
One of her friends from the police academy had moved to Australia. She could send her an email to ask if it would be possible to find any information on the cousin who’d inherited the land. There. That was it. She was done.
* * *
The librarian wouldn’t let Lanford use the computer unless he had a library card. To get a library card, he had to show he was a resident of the town. To prove that, she wanted a piece of mail with his name on it and the address of the parsonage as his mailing address.
He hadn’t signed a rental agreement with the church, so he didn’t have that for identification. He didn’t have a driver’s license, either. He could ask Harold if he could use the parsonage address to change his identification, but he wasn’t sure how long he was staying, and he didn’t want to press his advantage with the pastor. So the library was out.
He wouldn’t ask Sarah for help tracking down Allison, because then he’d have to admit what he’d done. Most of the trouble he’d gotten into as a kid had been harmless. Some property damage, some vandalism. Some of it could have led to something bigger, but it hadn’t, not at the time of the fire. Except for his relationship with Allison. That could have hurt a lot of people. But he still didn’t believe anyone was aware of it.
If he could check on her, and she was doing well, then he hoped to keep their relationship buried as long as it had no connection to what happened that night.
Since the library and Sarah were out, he decided he’d have to ask Pastor Harold. Harold was, unsurprisingly, willing and eager to help.
“Of course you can do some research on the church computer. It hadn’t even occurred to me that you might not have access to the internet. You can come in anytime and use the computer. That is, if you’d take a set of keys.”
Lanford shook his head.
Harold drew a breath and frowned.
“We do have parental controls on the machine, so certain websites are not available.”
It took Lanford a few minutes to understand what Harold was hinting about.
His cheeks flushed. “No, I’m not looking for pornography.”
Harold’s cheeks also reddened. “It’s not just pornography. Gambling sites, dating websites, places where you can pirate movies and TV shows—we’ve blocked all of that.”
Lanford drew a breath. He could tell Harold it wasn’t any of his business, but the man had already helped him, and he didn’t want him to worry.
“I just want to find out what happened to someone who used to live here. But I don’t want everyone in town knowing I’m doing that.”
Harold’s whole body relaxed. “Well, that’s excellent, then. If you need any help, just call me. I can be discreet.”
He waved Lanford into his seat behind his desk. “I’m supposed to go to the school for a concert this afternoon, so it’s all yours.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Lanford was grateful not only for the kindness but for the confidence the man had in Lanford.
“No problem. And one moment, let me show you something.”
Harold leaned around him and took the mouse, directing it to the upper right-hand corner. “You can delete your browsing history here, so no one will find out who you’ve been looking for.”
Harold bestowed a smile upon him and left the office. Just as well. Lanford had no idea what to say to him, beyond another thank-you.
Again, Harold was proof to Lanford that God approved of his task.
The browser was open, so Lanford took a breath and then typed in a name.
* * *
It took him a while. He wasn’t a good typist and had to hunt and peck his letters. As well, he didn’t remember a lot about how the internet worked. They hadn’t had a computer at home, and he’d missed a lot of class the last two years he was a student, so he hadn’t spent a lot of time on the school’s computers. There was no access in prison, and the internet worked a lot faster than it had when he’d used it previously.
After a couple of hours, he had a good handle on what had happened to Allison.
She was married to Billy Robertson. They’d been engaged at the time of the fire, and they’d gotten married soon after. That meant she hadn’t talked about her affair with Lanford to Billy, or that wedding would never have happened. She’d kept the secret buried, and Lanford would do the same.
He considered. Was it a surprise that Allison and Billy had married?
She’d been the prettiest girl in town. Since Billy always liked the best of everything, it wasn’t a surprise that he’d wanted Allison.
Allison’s mom had raised her alone, and the family was poor. It wasn’t a secret that Allison had been more interested in Billy for his money than for the rest of him, but that hadn’t been a problem for Lanford.
Dan had talked to him about it once. Allison had been in his class, and they’d been friends, too. Dan had confessed that Allison had shown interest in him, but Dan was focused on his running and doing well enough in school to get to college. He wasn’t going to be distracted by a girl.
Especially not one who was dating his friend.
Dan had been torn. Billy was his friend and deserved someone who cared for him more than his money.
Allison was also his friend, and she didn’t deserve Dan trying to break up her relationship. Except that Dan had thought it was the wrong one for her. He’d hinted at that once, he’d said, but she’d told him not to butt in unless he wanted to date her himself.
While Billy and Dan had gone off to college, Allison had stayed in Balsam Grove since her family had no money. Lanford hadn’t paid much attention—he was saving up to get his bike at that point, and that had been his only interest.
Until Allison started coming on to him. After she and Billy got engaged, he’d gone back to school and she’d been lonely. Lanford had been lonely, too, and selfish.
After the fire, Allison had married Billy and was still married to him. Her pictures showed she was also still beautiful. She had nice clothes and a big house. For a girl who hadn’t always had enough to eat growing up, he was sure she was very happy.
He wouldn’t want to spend that much time with Billy, but he wished Allison well.
He closed the search browser, deleted the history and left the office. The church pianist was practicing, and Lanford let him know that he should lock up when he left.
Lanford walked around to the stairs to his own place. He felt a little lighter.
Allison was doing well, so he needed to keep her secret. Their relationship couldn’t have caused the events of the night of the fire.
Now he just had to figure out what did.
Chapter Fourteen
Sarah got an email back from her contact in Australia. She had an email address for the cousin’s son. Sarah hadn’t use
d it yet.
She shouldn’t spend time with Lanford. He was a good-looking man. That shouldn’t be a factor, but she was afraid it was. Once in a while she caught glimpses of the charmer he must have been before he went to prison. She was liking him too much to do her job.
She was liking him too much for herself, as well. She had come to Balsam Grove for a year and then hoped to return to Pittsburgh and the force. Not to get involved with an ex-con. Even if he did find the person who had set the fire and framed him eighteen years ago, what could possibly happen between them? Why would he be the least bit interested in a cop?
But still, the loose threads niggled at her. Billy said he’d had nothing to do with the storage facility. She had no reason to disbelieve him, except for that anger he had for Lanford, which seemed more than reasonable.
He could be angry that Lanford had set the fire that killed his friend, but Lanford had lost his brother and father. He’d suffered more, if they were comparing pain.
And it had been eighteen years. It was enough time for the edges of hurt to soften.
Then, just when she thought she could set it aside, there was what the bartender had said.
With a frustrated groan, she opened her browser on her computer. She hesitated, then sent a quick email to the son in Australia. She stated that she was a police officer and wondered if this man remembered any details of the inheritance and sale of the Davies property.
She didn’t expect much of a response, if she got one at all. “I’m blaming you, Festus.”
Festus’s tail hit the floor a couple of times, and he sighed.
“You should be telling me to mind my own business. What kind of police dog are you?”
Seriously, that was a mystery she probably would never solve. She realized Sheriff Harding hadn’t answered her last email, either. It was like he’d disappeared off the face of the earth.
She typed in U-Stor and Billy’s name, to see if there were any connections between the two.
The first hit was the website for the facility. She clicked on that and looked through the website carefully, intent on any information she’d missed previously. The only link to Billy she could find was the holding company his father had owned and used for his shares of U-Stor. Now that holding company belonged to Billy, but ownership hadn’t passed until his father had died.
She did another internet search and found the date of Walter Robertson’s death. He and his wife had been in a fatal car accident a couple of years after the fire.
Not long after the storage facility had opened. Maybe that’s why the bartender had thought that Billy was involved with it. Billy would have been very busy with all of his father’s business interests at that point.
Her search of the storage facility yielded nothing further.
Then she tried typing in Billy Robertson on his own. He was a successful businessman, with a wife and son. His wife was from Balsam Grove, as well. She could ask people about this woman, Allison, but couldn’t imagine there was much to follow there. Not that would relate to the arson at the Davies place, anyway.
She read the news about Billy. She scrolled back through pages of news articles until she found some from the time of his father’s death. U-Stor wasn’t mentioned then: it was not one of the family’s biggest ventures.
She went back further, deciding to go as far as the fire. There wasn’t much about Billy before his dad’s death, but she found one article, just a couple months prior to the car accident.
The business magazine had interviewed Walter Robertson about the facility when it opened. The other two investors in the holding company were silent partners, and Robertson’s company had purchased the land and overseen the construction.
Interesting.
The local reporter had asked about the demand for a storage facility in Balsam Grove—exactly what Sarah had wondered.
I understand what you’re asking, because I had the same response when my son brought me the idea for the project. But the boy has to grow up sometime, so I told him we’d do it. I’d invest some of his money in it, and he could see if his idea was a good one or not.
The reporter wanted to know if his son would be involved in the day-to-day management of the project.
He’s working with me to get the thing built. Then it’s up to him to take care of it. It’s his opportunity to show me what he’s got.
Sarah reread the comments.
The reporter hadn’t added anything further relating to Billy. Not even his name. Sarah double-checked that the Robertsons only had one child. No other sons, no daughters, no illegitimate children that showed up anywhere.
Just Billy.
Sarah frowned.
Sarah had assumed, after she’d heard about Billy showing off his things, that Billy had been an indulged and spoiled child.
Walter Robertson did not sound like a doting dad. He almost sounded like he’d enjoy the project failing because it was Billy’s.
It hadn’t failed yet, but it wasn’t exactly a resounding success story, either.
Billy had lied about his involvement in the project. Did he blame Lanford for its lack of success? Was that why he had such a strong reaction to Lanford’s presence?
Sarah shook her head. That didn’t make sense. Maybe he’d wanted to save face by separating his reputation from a business that wasn’t doing well, but that wasn’t enough to explain the hate.
Billy might have had some cause to hate Lanford enough to want to hurt him. Maybe enough to light a fire that would destroy Lanford’s home and possibly kill Lanford.
Maybe the reason also covered Lewis Davies and Riordan. Or maybe they’d been collateral damage.
And that hatred had lingered, perhaps exacerbated by Lanford surviving. So, Billy had come up with a project to destroy everything remaining about Lanford’s home.
It was the best explanation Sarah could come up with that covered all the circumstances of that night. If Lanford hadn’t done it, could Billy have done so?
It was the best lead she had right now. Maybe the bartender remembered more about Billy’s presence at the party that night. She didn’t have enough evidence to ask Billy, though.
She remembered his anger. No, he wouldn’t cooperate unless he was forced to.
The bartender had mentioned Billy being at the party. She didn’t remember seeing Billy’s name in the reports from the case file, but she could check.
There was still the other question. The million-dollar one.
Why?
If Billy had lit the fire, it wasn’t because of any information commonly known. No connection had been made at the time, and there was no talk of it now.
If there was a reason, only Billy and Lanford knew. Possibly Lanford’s dad and brother had, as well. So only Billy and Lanford, who were still alive, were in that circle of knowledge.
Sarah leaned her chair back, almost poking Festus in the process.
Lanford had been cagey about who in town might have wanted to hurt or kill him. Sarah had assumed she’d be able to pick up anything serious from that time either from the old files in the station here or from talking to the people in town.
She recalled the main motives: love, money, revenge. But which one applied here?
She dropped her chair with a thud, sending Festus scurrying back to the file room.
“You’ve got it, Festus. We’ll check through the files, and if nothing pops up, we’re going to talk to Lanford. This time we have to make him open up.”
Sarah hated leaving things unsettled, or unsolved. She wanted to know what happened. If her suspicions were correct, and if she took into account the hatred Billy had shown, Lanford could still be in danger.
If these files didn’t reveal the mystery, then she was going to need some kind of leverage to get Lanford to talk to her. Really talk to her.
She wasn’t
sure she had a way to make that happen.
* * *
Lanford was working on the church’s garden. After so many years locked up, he didn’t mind the heat, or that some of the plants scratched him. The freedom, the pleasure of feeling the sun on his face—it all made him truly grateful for what he had.
He was surprised when Sarah parked her car on the street in front of the church. For a moment he let himself enjoy watching her.
She looked pretty, even in her uniform, with her brown hair swinging from a ponytail. She was medium height, he thought, and was fit. She walked with confidence, but not arrogance. Her expression was open, not hiding secrets.
She hadn’t been to prison, or she couldn’t be open like that. He hoped nothing ever happened to close up her expression, because it made him happy when he saw her.
He doubted he’d ever let himself be exposed that way again. He’d lost a lot, eighteen years ago. More than a house and family.
He knew she wasn’t someone he could ever be with. Even if he proved he was innocent of the arson and resulting deaths, he had been sullied by those years in prison. In God’s eyes, he was clean, but this was an imperfect world.
He’d never made plans beyond finding the real arsonist. After was something he hadn’t considered.
But Sarah made him think of the things that had been beyond his reach since he’d been convicted. Things like a partner, a home, children.
He wasn’t sure if any of that was in his future. He wondered about Sarah. Had she been married? Had she wanted a family? And he wondered again, why was she here, in Balsam Grove?
He’d been staring at her while she walked up to him. He stood from his squatting position, hands dirty with the soil clinging to the plants he’d been weeding. What had she said that he’d missed, lost in dreaming?
He shook his head.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
She smiled, and it warmed him inside.
“I said hello. I was wondering if we could talk.”
Out of the Ashes Page 12