“Great theory, but he was in Chicago at the time of the fire,” Gideon said.
“According to whom? His wife? Maybe she liked the idea of taking care of two problems at once.” She rubbed her thumb against her index and middle fingers. “Money, money, money.”
“She’s provided me with a list of places where they were in Chicago, as well as credit card receipts.”
“Do you have security footage at these establishments corroborating the purchases? Otherwise, anyone could have swiped their credit cards for them.”
“I’m working on that. I’ve been on the phone most of the day requesting security footage.”
“The DNA of Lana’s baby will be the ace in the hole.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The boy’s heavy footfalls reminded Joan of how her dad’s liquor bottles would rattle when she raced in after school.
Kyle hurried into the room as Gideon was pulling a sheet pan of french fries from the oven. The boy washed his hands and, drying them quickly, tossed the towel in a ball on the counter. He plopped in his chair with a big grin.
She was tempted to assign him the nickname Bamm-Bamm but decided to keep her distance, knowing she was leaving on Sunday. They each grabbed burgers, fries, and whatever condiment seemed to suit. Ketchup was the winner, hands down.
As they ate, she listened to Kyle chatter about his day as Gideon asked pointed questions that displayed real interest in his son’s life. She remembered now why she had been so drawn to the Bailey family, and most especially Gideon. What would it have been like if Gideon had gotten her pregnant and Kyle was their child? She quickly chased away the answer.
“Nate just texted me a picture of the burned shed,” Kyle said.
Joan had been careful not to question Kyle about Nate, knowing Gideon would be as touchy as Ann had been when she’d interviewed Nate. But she was paying close attention.
Gideon cleared his throat as he grabbed a french fry. “What did he say?”
“Not much. He said it’s still warm in spots.”
“Yeah,” she said easily. “It was tough to put out.”
“That’s what Nate said.” His tone was a mixture of wonder and skepticism. “He said the hose almost didn’t reach all the way.”
She let the boy’s comment dangle like bait for Gideon. She had promised not to tell, but if Nate had told Kyle and Kyle told his father . . .
“How much of the fire did Nate see?” Gideon asked.
“He didn’t start it,” Kyle said.
“Okay.” Gideon’s gaze immediately shifted to Joan. “Did Nate see how it started?”
“Nope, he was just outside and saw it go up.”
“What was he doing outside, pal?” Gideon asked.
Kyle shrugged as if he realized he might have said something wrong. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, you do,” Gideon said.
Kyle dropped the last half of his burger to the plate. He looked as if he might argue but then sighed. “When he can’t sleep, he goes to the firepit and hangs out.”
“Does he set fires?” Gideon asked.
“No,” Kyle rushed to say. “Aunt Ann would kill him.”
“Yes, she would,” Gideon said.
“Why does he like the idea of setting fires?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Is he in trouble?” Kyle asked.
“No, he’s not in trouble.” Gideon shifted the conversation toward sports, and soon the three were arguing the merits of the Denver Broncos versus the Philadelphia Eagles.
When Kyle asked to be excused and cleared his plate, Joan sat, feeling all Gideon’s unasked questions bubbling below the surface.
“You didn’t tell me Nate was outside before the fire,” he said.
“Ann asked me to keep it between us.”
He was quiet for a moment, staring at her with an expression reserved for suspects. “I understand the need to protect your own child. Ann loves Nate. And we all know he’s bright as hell, a little quirky, and we all love him. He and Kyle are best friends.”
“I’m waiting for the but.” She sipped the last of her beer, knowing she would soon need another one.
“I know Nate loves the bonfires at the games. I admit, there’ve been times I thought that was the only reason he came.”
“His dad’s a firefighter. Makes sense, I suppose.”
“Joan, did Nate set that fire?”
Joan had asked herself that question a dozen times since last night. “I don’t believe so. He thought he saw someone run off into the woods.”
“He saw someone?”
“That’s what he said. He didn’t see the person’s face and can’t identify him.”
“It was a man.”
“He thinks so.”
“And Nate was outside because he has trouble sleeping?”
She thought about Elijah in college and all the reading he did at the diner when he could not sleep.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.
She met his gaze head-on. “You know everything I know.”
“Bull.”
She shrugged. “I can’t help it if you don’t believe me.”
He sat back, still regarding her. “Elijah’s warden sent me the letters he had on file from the women who wrote him.”
She folded her arms. “And?”
“You wrote to him a few days after the Newport fire.”
“I’ve written to him plenty of times. Feel free to read all of them.”
“I’ve read a few.”
She arched a brow. “And what was your impression?”
He dodged the question. “Why did you write him?”
A half smile tugged at the edge of her lips. “Like I’ve said. Insight.”
“His letters offered insight into your case?”
She rubbed her temple with her fingertips. “And that’s when I cut off contact.”
“Do you want to talk about the Newport case?”
“Why? The charges against Avery Newport have been dropped. I gambled that an arrest and an interrogation would get me a confession. Instead, they got me a suspension.”
“We’ve all miscalculated. It makes us human.”
Her gaze softened, and for a second, he saw the woman who had trusted him and loved him until he had left her behind in a fire. “That still doesn’t make it acceptable.”
Jessica Halpern had been ignoring the cops and her husband all day. And now, as she drove up to the mountain cabin, far out of cell service, she could finally get a status report. She was anxious to see him and ask what the hell she was supposed to do about Gideon. The detective was digging deeper into the fire than she had ever expected. The cops had not announced the identity of the fire fatality, but she knew it had to have been Lana.
Too bad for Lana, if she was the one who had gotten cooked in the fire. The girl reminded her a little of herself at that age. She knew how to cut hair, she had a knack for hair color, and she was ambitious. But when she was not working, she was stirring shit up and creating problems among the other girls.
She parked, leaving the car engine on and the headlights shining on the rustic cabin that had been built as overnight lodging for hunters. Heat came from a wood-burning stove, and the water source was the stream that she had passed a few hundred feet below the cabin.
When she and Darren had married, they had shared a weekend here. To say it had been fun would be a lie. Both were in serious creature-comfort detox within the hour, and even though Darren kept the fire banked high, it had been one of the coldest nights of her life. They had packed up first thing the next morning and returned to town. Still, she had not gotten around to selling the place, because there was no better place to meet in secret.
She honked the horn three times, their signal that it was her.
A figure passed in front of the window, and the front door opened. He stayed back in the shadows just out of reach of her headlights. All this cloak-and-dagger shit annoyed her. They both had a reason to keep their mouths shut, so hiding in the shadows seemed unnecessary. She shut off the engine.
“Come inside,” he said.
She grabbed the paper bag on the front seat and walked to the open front door. “Do you have my ring?”
“I do.”
“The last thing I need is for the cops to figure out that Lana was wearing my ring.”
“She promised she would keep our engagement a secret.”
She chuckled. “Really? You give a rock to a girl like that, and you think she’s not going to tell anyone?” For the first time, he looked slightly dumbfounded. Men. “We need to wrap up our business. It’s cold, and I want to get back to town.”
“I have something for you.”
She held up the paper bag. “This is for you, as we agreed upon. Now, give me back my ring.”
He fished the ring out of his pocket and held it out. When she stepped toward him, she had to look up to meet his gaze. She was tall for a woman and liked a good-size man.
He took her hand and carefully threaded the ring on her finger. His calloused touch sent a ripple through her, and she remembered how good those hands had felt on her body. If only she had time for a session between the sheets.
He grabbed her by the wrist, tightened his hold. He was not hurting her, but he was showing her who was boss. She had always liked it when he manned up.