My Wildest Dream: Whisper Lake #2

by Barbara Freethy

  "On the corner," Dana replied. "Do you know Craig? He does delivery for the bakery his mother runs. He drives the bakery van home some nights. He lives at the corner, in the green house with the yellow shutters." His gaze moved down the street to the house she'd just mentioned. There was no white van in sight.

  Had Craig been driving the van he'd just seen speeding down the street? Had he been in such a hurry because he'd set the fire? Or did he just like to drive fast?

  He was still pondering those questions when Adam pulled up in his SUV. He moved away from the women to speak to him.

  "What have we got?" Adam asked, a grim look in his eyes.

  "Another suspicious fire in an empty house. I passed a speeding white van a few blocks away. Unfortunately, I lost it. Then I saw the fire. I don't know if they're connected, but they could be."

  "Did the neighbors see anything?"

  "No, but when I asked them about a white van, one of them mentioned that Craig Robbins lives on the corner, in the green house. He sometimes drives his mother's white bakery van and parks it overnight at the house."

  Adam's gaze sharpened. "Craig Robbins? The kid who was injured in the fire that took his father's life?"

  "That would be the one. It seems doubtful that someone who was severely burned in a fire as a child would turn into an arsonist."

  "Probably, but we need to talk to him."

  "Why don't you let me approach his mother first? As I told you the other day, she has a relationship with my grandfather. She might be more willing to speak to me."

  Adam nodded. "Why don't you head to the bakery now? Let me know what you find out."

  "Will do." As he got in his car and drove downtown, he found himself dreading the conversation ahead. Janet would be shocked to know her son was now a person of interest in an arson fire. He had trouble believing it, too. But he had to follow the clues wherever they might lead, even if it pissed off his grandfather's girlfriend.

  Chelsea had just ushered the kids out to morning recess when her phone buzzed. Lizzie's name flashed across the screen. Since she had a ten-minute break while the playground monitors took care of the children, she moved back into her classroom and took the call. "Hello."

  "I didn't think you'd answer," Lizzie said in surprise.

  "It's recess. I don't have long. What do you need?"

  "First, did you hear there's been another fire—on Valmont Way?"

  Her heart sank. "That's awful. Was anyone hurt?"

  "No. It was another vacant home."

  "Thank goodness."

  "But I'm really calling because I got an email from Jessalyn West."

  She started at the mention of her former mentor. Jessalyn West was a big-time country star in her late forties, who could still sell out the Grand Ole Opry within minutes. She'd had a huge career, and Chelsea had had the honor of opening for her several times. While she and Jessalyn had been close, she didn't think her sister knew her at all. "Why would she write you?"

  "Because she wants you to call her. She knows you're in Whisper Lake because she saw all the press. But she said she doesn't have a number or email for you that hasn't bounced. I'll text you her number."

  "I don't know if I want to talk to her," she said slowly, her old fears returning.

  "She was so kind to you, Chelsea. I'm sure she's just concerned."

  "Every time I think I'm putting my music past behind me, someone pops back up."

  "Well, she's not Austin. She's not out to hurt you or use you. Anyway, I have to run. I'll send you the number."

  "Okay." As Lizzie disconnected, her text came in.

  She stared at Jessalyn's number for a long minute. Jessalyn had been wonderful to her. It felt wrong not to call her, but it also felt a little risky. She'd be opening yet another door to her past.

  Thankfully, she didn't have to make an immediate decision.

  As the kids came back from recess a few minutes later, her gaze moved to Travis. Maybe it was time for another art assignment. If there was something in his head that could put a stop to these fires, she needed to draw it out.

  Unfortunately, when she got to the art assignment later that afternoon, Travis didn't seem inclined to draw anything. His blank page stayed blank, and while he played around with a crayon in his hand, he never put it to the paper.

  "Is something wrong?" she asked him. "You don't feel like drawing today?"

  He stared back at her, as if he wanted to say something. But then he just shook his head and looked away.

  When the bell rang, he jumped out of his seat, unlike every other day of the summer session. He almost knocked over one of the other kids on his way out of the classroom.

  She frowned, but there was a trio of little girls and their mothers looking for her attention, so she couldn't go after Travis.

  She was actually surprised to see so many of the moms come to the classroom. Usually, the kids met their parents outside near the drop-off/pick-up circle.

  "Miss Cole," Ashley Broderick said, a determined look on her pretty face. "Do you have a moment?"

  "Of course."

  Ashley was head of the PTA and involved in just about every event that happened at the school. Her daughter, Kalani, took after her, and was definitely the queen bee in Chelsea's second-grade class.

  With Ashley were her two friends, Diana and Monica, who always seemed to be by her side, and their daughters, Leah and Tawny, who, like their mothers, were always following Kalani around. She had no idea what the women or their daughters wanted, but she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it.

  "First, we want to say that we feel for you," Ashley said, a pitying smile on her face. "The press you've been getting, the comments online, they're quite horrible."

  "I wouldn't know. I haven't looked."

  "Well, that's probably best. But we want you to know that we support you. Our girls think you're amazing."

  "Thank you," she said, still suspicious as to where this conversation was going.

  "We were big fans," Diana put in. "Before you stopped singing. And now we love you as a teacher. The kids adore you."

  "I'm crazy about them, too."

  "Which is why we're hoping that you might help us do something special for the kids," Ashley said.

  "What would that be?"

  "We always have a special treat at the end of the summer session, which, as you know, is on Thursday. We asked the kids what they'd like to do, and this year, we got a lot of requests for you to sing."

  "I don't sing anymore. You know that."

  "Would you consider making an exception? It's just for the children and their parents. No one else will be there. And, well, I don't want to put too much pressure on you," Ashley added. "But there's a little girl in the third grade, Lila Sims, who is suffering from leukemia. She put in a special request for you to sing. She said she listens to your music when she has her chemotherapy."

  Her stomach twisted at Ashley's words.

  "Please, please, sing," Kalani pleaded. "It would make Lila so happy."

  They were pulling out all the stops, hitting her where it hurt. She wanted to say no. She wanted to scream the word out. How could she look at all those faces again? But wasn't she looking at them right now?

  If she said no, she'd be turning away from a sick child. She'd disappoint everyone. If she agreed to sing and then froze, she'd disappoint everyone, too. It was a no-win situation.

  "I—I need to check with the principal," she said.

  "Mr. Rodriguez is on board," Ashley said. "One song. What do you say?"

  "I'll have to let you know. I'm sorry to cut you all off, but I have to leave. I have somewhere to be."

  "Promise us you'll think about it."

  "Trust me, I will definitely think about it." She grabbed her bag and practically shoved them out of her classroom. She doubted she'd be able to think about anything else.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brodie had gotten nowhere with Janet. Aside from alarming the hell out of
her and making her angry at the same time, he hadn't found out anything about Craig, except that he'd called in sick for work, and his mother claimed she had no idea where he was. She'd told him that Craig suffered from anxiety and depression, PTSD from his injuries in the fire, and that lately he'd been on edge because of the arson fires.

  He wondered if Craig had been on edge because he was responsible for those fires, but he hadn't shared that thought with Janet. He'd reported his fruitless conversation to Adam and had gone back to work. All units were on the lookout for Craig's van, but even after multiple trips through Craig's neighborhood, the van had not been sighted by the time he clocked off work at five.

  As he got into his Range Rover to drive home, his grandfather called. He'd been expecting the call ever since he'd spoken to Janet; he was just surprised it had taken this long.

  "What the hell is going on, Brodie? I drive down to Denver for the day and when I come back, you're accusing Janet's son of arson? How on earth did you come up with that? What possible lead could you have that goes to Craig?"

  "Do you want to let me answer one of your questions?"

  "I'm listening."

  "A white van was spotted near some of the fires, including the one on Valmont Way."

  "That's where Craig lives. And there have to be dozens of white vans in Whisper Lake."

  "There are. We just want to talk to Craig, but he didn't show up for work, and Janet says she doesn't know where he is."

  "He's done that a few times this past month, taken off for a day or two without a good reason."

  "Which only makes his behavior more suspicious."

  "Craig was a fire victim. His scars are horrendous. There's no way he goes anywhere near fire."

  "Unless he was responsible for that fire that killed his dad."

  "He was eight years old."

  "Arsonists sometimes start young."

  His grandfather blew out an angry breath. "You're reaching, Brodie."

  "I might be. Look, I don't want Craig to be involved, but I need to talk to him, so I can rule him out. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

  His grandfather didn't answer right away.

  "Grandpa?"

  "I have an idea, but if I tell you, I'll be crossing a line with Janet."

  "Not if finding Craig helps us prove he's innocent."

  "What if it doesn't?"

  "I thought you said—"

  "I know what I said." His grandfather cut him off. "Okay, here's what I know. Craig likes to fish at Glass Lake. He goes out there, because it's isolated and quiet. He says it calms him down."

  "I bet Janet could have told me that, too."

  "She's a mother. She protects her son. If you don't prove his innocence, she'll probably be done with me."

  "Hopefully he's not involved."

  "Call me if you find him."

  "I will."

  As he ended the call, he started his car. Glass Lake was one of three smaller lakes tucked in the mountains around Whisper Lake. It would probably take him about twenty minutes to get there, and it could be a completely wasted trip, but he had to give it a shot.

  Before he pulled out of the lot, he picked up his phone once more and called Chelsea. "I hope you haven't started cooking," he said when she answered. "I have to work late."

  "I just got back from the store, but I haven't done anything yet. How late will you be? I'm not in any hurry."

  "I'm not sure. I'm running down a lead."

  "On the latest fire?"

  "Yes."

  "Is this dangerous, Brodie?"

  He was surprised and touched by the concern in her voice. "No, I'm just going to have a conversation with someone. I'll tell you about it later. But you don't need to wait for me. Go ahead and eat if you're hungry."

  "I'm not that hungry yet, so I'll wait a bit. Call me when you're done."

  "I will. I'll be thinking about you until then."

  "Don't do that. Don't be distracted," she said worriedly.

  He smiled to himself. "Right now, I'm not doing anything but sitting in my car, so if I want to entertain myself with thoughts of you, it's not a problem."

  "I've been thinking about you, too," she admitted.

  "Good. I like to hear that. How was your day?"

  "It was…all right."

  "That doesn't sound very convincing."

  "Travis refused to draw during art. He wouldn't put his crayon to his paper no matter how much encouragement I gave him. He also left my classroom the second the bell rang, not like every other day this summer."

  "What do you make of that?"

  "I have no idea. I don't think he would have heard about the fire. The news said it started after school began. So, it wasn't that. Maybe he just lost interest in the burning house. That might be a good thing."

  "It might be. Is there something else you're not telling me? You sound kind of funny."

  "It's nothing big. I just heard from another person out of my past, but it's not like Austin. Anyway, I'll tell you about that later."

  "We'll have lots to talk about."

  "Be careful, Brodie."

  "I'll see you soon."

  As he ended the call, he pulled out of the lot, immediately switching gears and focusing on the task at hand. On his way to Glass Lake, he also left a message for Adam that he had a lead on Craig. If he found Craig, he'd consider whether or not he might need backup, but there was a good chance he might not even be at the lake, so he'd make that decision later.

  There wasn't much traffic heading toward Glass Lake, the homes getting fewer and farther behind with each mile. While a dozen or so cabins dotted the lake, most of them were very rustic, and not all that appealing to anyone but hardcore campers and fishermen.

  When he reached the small parking lot, his pulse jumped at the sight of the white bakery van. There didn't appear to be anyone in the front of the van, but he pulled his gun out of the glove box, before getting out of his vehicle.

  He approached the van with cautious steps, his sharp gaze sweeping the surrounding area. When he reached the driver's side, he saw that the front of the van was indeed empty. The door was also unlocked, which surprised him. He opened it and peered over the driver's seat and saw dozens of empty shelves and a couple of coolers in the back, nothing that looked like fire-making materials.

  In the front of the vehicle, there were two pill bottles tucked under the seat. He pulled them out to take a better look. Oxycodone and Xanax—painkillers and anti-anxiety meds, both prescribed to Craig Robbins. That fit with what Janet had told him about her son.

  A rustle in the bushes drew his gaze to the path leading from the lake to the parking lot. A man carrying a cooler and a fishing rod came into view. He was young, early twenties, with long brown hair, and he looked exactly like the photos he'd pulled on Craig earlier.

  Craig stopped abruptly as Brodie shut the door of the van. Then he dropped the rod and cooler and took off running in the opposite direction.

  "Dammit," he swore, as he went after him. Why did they always run?

  Fortunately, Craig was not very fast or very agile.

  Brodie caught up to him in less than three minutes, at just about the same time Craig tripped over a rock and went sprawling face-first onto the ground.

  He grabbed his arm, pulling it up behind his back, as he pinned him down with his knee. "Stay down," he said, as Craig struggled to get free.

  "Who are you? What do you want?"

  "I'm a police officer, and I want to talk to you."

  "Let me see your badge."

  "I don't have one. I'm off duty."

  "Then get the hell off me, man."

  "I'm Brodie McGuire, Craig. Your mother is dating my grandfather."

  At that piece of information, Craig stopped moving. He turned his face to one side, giving Brodie a sharp look. "Let me up."

  "I will, but don't run, because I will catch you, and things will only get worse for you if I do."

  "What things? I hav
en't done anything."

  He let him go and stood up as Craig rolled over and got to his feet. "I want to talk to you about the fire on your street earlier today."

  "I heard about it on the news."

  "Is that what happened? Or did you set it and run? Because I passed this van leaving that street about three minutes before I got to the fire scene."

  Craig paled. "It's not what you think. I live on Valmont. I saw the flames when I was leaving for work, and they freaked me out. I started sweating. I had to get out of there. I don't know if my mother told you, but we were in a fire when I was a kid. My dad was killed. I've had nightmares about fire ever since."

  "She told me. Why didn't you call 9-1-1?"

  "I figured someone else would. I wasn't thinking straight."

  "Why didn't you go to work?"

  "I just told you. I panicked. I drove up here. I had to try to calm down."

  "With the help of your prescriptions?"

  "Those are legal. My doctor gave them to me. I swear I had nothing to do with the fire. How could you think I would?" Not waiting for an answer, Craig pushed up his long sleeves to reveal blistered scars on his forearms. "I went through hell because of fire. I can't touch a match or go near a candle. I'm messed up, man. But I don't set fires."

  There was so much sincerity in Craig's eyes that Brodie was inclined to believe him. "Did you see anyone else by the house on Valmont?"

  "I saw smoke; that's it. I just freaked out and drove away as fast as I could." He paused. "Why did you think it was me?"

  "A white van has been spotted near the fires. The fact that I saw you speeding away from the fire in a white van didn't help."

  "But you believe me, don't you?"

  "I think I do."

  Relief flooded his eyes. "Good, because I'm innocent."

  "You should call your mom. She's worried about you."

  "She guessed where I was?"

  "No."

  "Then how did you find me?" Craig paused, realization entering his eyes. "Your grandfather. Wes sold me out."

  "He wanted me to find you, so I could prove you were innocent."

  "That's not true. He thinks I'm a loser."

  "He thinks you've had a rough time in life. So do I. Come on, let's go back."