“Are you sure it’s Lana?” Ryan asked in a choked-up voice.
“Yes.”
Tears welled in his bloodshot eyes. “How did she die?”
“There was a fire.”
“A fire?” Ryan shook his head. “I told her she was playing a dangerous game.”
“What kind of game?”
He sipped his soda, staring at the fizzing bubbles. “She started writing a man in prison about two years ago.”
“How did she meet him?”
“She saw him on the news. She became kind of obsessed with him.”
Gideon’s body stilled. “Does the man have a name?”
“She never told me. She was afraid I would call the prison and get him in trouble.”
“Trouble for what?”
“Leading a woman on, I guess. Filling her head with lies.”
“A man manipulating a woman’s feelings is not against the law. Did he try to solicit money from her, or did he ask her to do anything illegal?”
“I don’t think so. He just kept telling her that he was in love with her.” Ryan dug a fingernail into the side of the cup. “Do you think he killed her?”
“I don’t know.”
Ann heard the car pull up in front of the ranch and knew by the slight rattle in the engine that it was Clarke’s vehicle. He’d had the SUV since his senior year of college and had refused to get rid of it for sentimental reasons. Clarke was loyal by nature and always had trouble cutting ties with the past.
She dried off her hands and carefully laid the dish towel over the edge of the sink before walking toward the front door. Joan had encouraged Ann to apply to East Coast graduate schools and to take more time before committing to Clarke’s marriage proposal. Clarke had been so anxious to marry and had encouraged Ann to study locally. But she had wanted to study at Harvard and to see more of the world before she committed. And then she had found out she was pregnant.
“Nate!” she shouted up the stairs. “Dad is here.”
Nate appeared at the top of the stairs. “Why? It’s not his day.”
No, it was not. She summoned a smile. “I guess he just wants to see you.”
Nate shrugged and came down the steps, joining her as the front doorbell rang. When her father had gotten sick over the winter, it had made sense for her and Nate to move back to the ranch. Days spread into a week and then two. And she found she liked being out here and away from Clarke. Finally, after a month, he had confronted her, and she asked him for a trial separation. She just needed a little space. Maybe one day she would clinically analyze her choices, but for now she was simply trying to get by.
Ann opened the door. Clarke stood on the front porch. His soot-covered feet were slightly braced, and he smelled faintly of smoke. “Clarke, is everything all right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not your day.”
“I know.” A boyish grin tipped the edges of Clarke’s lips, reminding her that he was a very attractive man. “I did ring the bell. Respecting your space.”
As he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, she braced but did not pull back. “You smell like fire.”
“I’m a firefighter,” he said easily. “And the department did a controlled burn today.”
“Oh.”
“I just came out to check on you two.” He winked at Nate. “Hey, pal.”
“Hey, Dad.”
“As you can see, we’re fine,” Ann said.
“I figured you were, but I needed to be sure.” He dropped his gaze to the calluses on his palms, darkened by more ash.
“What’s prompting all this?”
“The fire in town. It reminded me of the other one. And what we could have lost.”
The words strengthened the chain forged between them that night. If Gideon had not rushed into the house, there would be no her, no Nate, and if Clarke had not risked his life, Joan would be dead.
“We drove by it today,” Nate said. “It was a bad one.”
“Yes, it was, pal,” Clarke said.
Since Nate was little, he had enjoyed going to work with Clarke. He’d told her that he loved riding the truck and hanging out at the station with the other firefighters. Moving her son out to the ranch had cut down on some of Nate’s time with his father, and she felt guilty about that.
“Hey, Mom, does Dad know about Kyle and my half-birthday party?”
The boys had been born in the dead of the Montana winter, and as the boys got into school, they had voted to celebrate their birthdays in September. The kids were back from summer holidays, school was only just starting, and the chance of a snowstorm was greatly reduced.
“No, I haven’t told him yet.” Every time she’d picked up the phone to call or text Clarke about the party, something else had popped up. Ann smiled. “It’s Thursday. Nothing fancy. We’ll be out here at the ranch. Four of his other friends are coming. And you are welcome. I should have told you, but I’ve just been rattled.”
“It’s okay, Ann. And yes, I would love to attend the party. Why a Thursday?”
“Only day we could get all the boys together.”
When he grinned, desire simmered, and she remembered they had always been good together in bed. He knew her body better than any man did, and even if she was not in the mood for sex, he found a way to make her want him.
The term uncoupling sounded modern and almost innocent. But whatever ties that bound them were a tangled mess, much like a delicate gold chain left in a pocket too long. As tempted as she was to cut the chain and yank it apart, she could never do that, for Nate’s sake.
“It’s at four o’clock, right after school,” Ann said.
“I’ll be here.”
“Great.”
“What can I bring?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just bring yourself.” She knew her tone sounded bright enough to border on overcompensating.
A car pulled up the driveway and parked behind Clarke’s. Joan rose out of the car and, her purse strap firmly on her shoulder, strode toward them.
Clarke rustled Nate’s hair and smiled at Ann. “Good to see you again, Joan.”
“You as well.”
“I better get going,” he said. “I’ll see you on Thursday, and good luck in school, pal.”
“Clarke,” Joan said, clearing her throat. “I owe you a big thank-you.”
“For what?” Clarke asked.
“I was reviewing the College Fire files. As I was looking at the pictures, I realized you pulled me out of the fire.”
Clarke shrugged. “Yeah, I did. I thought you knew.”
“I had passed out. And I guess I didn’t try too hard to remember any of it. I always assumed it was a firefighter who saved me. Anyway, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Joan.” He tossed one last wave to Nate and then headed to his car. Joan watched him back around her car and drive off.
“Nate, can you set the table for dinner?” Ann asked.
“Sure.”
As he ran back into the house, Ann asked, “You okay?”
“How did Clarke know where to find me in the fire?” she asked.
“Gideon told him he had last seen you by the back bedroom.”
“That house was about to come down around me in those last seconds.”
“Clarke has never lacked for courage,” Ann said. “And for the record, Gideon handed me off to the first firefighter he saw and ran back to the house. Clarke was coming out with you over his shoulder just as Gideon reached the door.”
“No one ever told me.”
“We all thought you knew. And then you were gone. That moment has haunted both of us for a long time.”
Joan drew in a deep breath. “I don’t seem to be getting anything right. I’ve been suspended from my job, and my new pal is a convicted arsonist, so it would be nice if I could let that day go forever.”
Ann shook her head. “Let me know if you figure out how to do it.”
Dan Tucker parked his car across the street from what remained of the Beau-T-Shop. Tightening his hands on the steering wheel, he could barely contain his simmering rage. This meaningless destruction was Elijah Weston’s doing. He had seen this trouble coming and had been warning the cops for months. But they had not been listening and were now scrambling to do a full homicide and arson investigation to cover their asses. Anyone with half a brain could have solved this crime.
Cursing, he drove the few blocks to the boardinghouse. It was going to take more than a few spray-painted words to chase away Elijah. But he could arrange whatever trouble it would take to deal with that bastard.
He picked up his phone and dialed a familiar number.
“Yeah,” the gruff voice on the other end said.
“It’s Tucker. I’m outside his house.”
“Why?”
“I can’t stop thinking about the fire and him. He set it. He killed whoever it is the cops aren’t talking about. I fucking know it.”
“What do you have in mind, Dan?”
As tempting as it was to shoot Elijah between the eyes and dump his body in the wilderness, he wasn’t ready to cross that line yet. A good beating was more fitting, and though he could do it alone, there was safety in numbers. “I want to give him a message that will make him rethink living here.”