Just then, several cars pulled into the driveway. “Let the fun begin.”
If volume of noise was a measure of success, then Joan decided that Nate and Kyle’s half-birthday party was a hit. The six boys ran around the house, and when Nate nearly crashed into a coffee table, Ann ordered them all outside.
For the first time since Gideon had arrived two hours ago, they looked at each other and laughed.
“I need a drink,” Joan said.
“What? The noise getting to you?” Gideon asked.
“Yes.” She held a cold beer bottle to the side of her head. “How does so much sound come out of such young humans?”
Gideon sipped his soda. “It’s a mystery.”
“Did you hear about the gifts Clarke gave Nate and Kyle?” Joan asked.
“Something about a computer and a car.”
“A really expensive computer and remote-control car.”
Gideon was silent for a moment. “He’s always wanted to provide the best.”
“A sentiment I can appreciate. But where does a firefighter get that kind of dough?”
“Credit cards. Sold one of his hunting rifles. I don’t know. Why does that bother you?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Clarke is rough around the edges. But he has always been a straight shooter, and he’s always treated Kyle like a son.”
“Why hasn’t Ann moved back home?” Joan asked.
“I don’t delve into the love lives of other couples. I’ve got enough on my own plate.”
“You’ve known Clarke since middle school, right?” Joan asked.
“That’s right. Why the sudden interest in Clarke?”
“I don’t know. I question everything and everyone. It’s just habit. Never mind. I was just thinking out loud.”
“Are you staying at the guesthouse tonight?”
“If you’ll still have me.” She had packed her things this morning, just in case.
“You’re welcome as long as you want to stay.”
“I’ll be out of your hair by Sunday.”
“There’s absolutely no rush.”
Joan stayed behind to help Ann clean up after the boys while Gideon drove the overly sugared, rowdy kids back to town. Kyle and Nate were upstairs, excited about their sleepover. The house breathed a sigh of relief.
She pulled the overstuffed trash bag from the can in the kitchen and carried it outside to the garage, where there was a locked box for the garbage. Philadelphia had rats. Montana had bears.
Back inside, she washed her hands and wiped down the counter for the evening.
Ann filled the empty trash can with a new bag. “You don’t have to go back to Gideon’s,” Ann said.
“I want to. It’s easier.”
“Did you and Gideon start something again?” Ann asked.
“No. We’re older and wiser and both know that I won’t stick around.”
“You could stay out here. Big Sky Country had its moments for you.”
“Live here again?” Joan had not even toyed with the idea. She was here to figure out Elijah, and now the other fires. Once that was solved, it would be time to go home and face the music of her off-key life.
“Consider it,” Ann said.
“And how would I support myself?” Joan asked. “I doubt anyone in the Philadelphia Police Department will give me a recommendation.”
“Enough people know you. I would vouch for you.” Ann added, “The police department’s always hiring. I also hear the medical examiner needs an investigator.”
“I doubt I could work for Gideon.”
Ann closed the door to the utility room. “Then call Dr. Christopher.”
“Before we get carried away with ourselves, I need to get going. I want to see Elijah again before visiting hours are over and figure out how he’s doing.”
Ann’s good humor faded. “I’m sorry he was assaulted.”
“He’s taking it in stride. Though he doesn’t strike me as the type who lets something like this pass.”
“Have you ever sensed that he, well, knows?” Ann asked.
“About?” Joan did not mention Nate’s name, but they both understood his paternity was the topic. When Ann nodded slowly, Joan said carefully, “He’s not stupid, and little gets past him.”
Ann’s face tightened with worry. “Nate and I were at the university on Monday checking out his classroom. We saw Elijah.”
“Did you speak?”
“No. But I know he saw us. When we pulled away, he spotted my car.”
“What was he doing there?” Joan asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe he was scoping out the school layout so he would be ready for his class.”
“I suppose,” Ann said.
“Don’t worry about him. Let me do that, okay?”
“Okay.”
Joan opened her phone and scrolled to the picture they’d found of Ann and her in Lana’s suitcase. “Gideon took the picture using Clarke’s camera, right?”
“Yeah, and he also took one of Clarke and me. Clarke keeps it in our bedroom. That’s the picture Lana had, right?”
“Yes.”
“What are you saying?”
“Clarke had the pictures and the negatives. And then Lana ends up with a copy.”
“Maybe someone else had a copy,” Ann said.
Before Joan could answer, the boys called out to Ann. “Mom, you said we could build a fire!” Nate shouted.
Ann’s brow furrowed. “Be right there.”
“I’ll give you the rundown in the morning. Go keep an eye on the boys.”
“Right.”
Joan got into her car, and in the quiet, she was able to think. Who had given Lana the picture of Joan and Ann? And how had Lana ended up with an engagement ring that looked like Jessica’s? Clarke had taken the original picture, and he had also done a fire inspection on the salon recently. Several had suggested that Lana had a boyfriend who made a point not to be seen in public with her. Clarke was separated from Ann, and if he had been seeing Lana, it would likely have ended whatever chances he’d had with Ann. Clarke was also an expert on fires.
None of these suppositions proved anything, but they also all pointed to Clarke. But something about Clarke troubled her. Sure, the two had never gotten along great, but the guy had pulled her from the College Fire and saved her life. He could have sold a rifle for the birthday-present cash. And if that were a crime, most of the country would be in jail.
Until she had solid proof, she could not make a move against Clarke. If Philadelphia and the Newport case had taught Joan anything, it was to have an ironclad case before making any kind of arrest. Maybe it was time to quietly poke around in Clarke’s history.
She kept driving, and by the time she approached the intersection that cut one way to the hospital and the other to Clarke’s house, she paused for just a moment before taking the road toward the small residential neighborhood where Ann and Clarke had lived.
She slowed as she pulled into the subdivision. Though the homes were much smaller than the ranch, they were close to the schools, grocery stores, and all the other civilized things not found farther out of town.
Joan located the one-level rancher that Clarke, Ann, and Nate had recently shared. The house was dark and silent. She parked across the street and studied its features. Fall leaves coated the yard, and the flowerpots that surely had been filled with vibrant blossoms while Ann was here now sat empty.
Clarke’s car was not in the driveway. He had said to Ann he was working tonight. He was not home. And she would need more evidence before she could even utter any suspicions about him.
Breaking into Clarke’s house would be crossing a line. If she was caught, she could not only kiss her job goodbye, but she could also end up in serious legal trouble. Not to mention losing Gideon and Ann.
She drove around the block and parked at a convenience store a half mile away.
Whoever had set the fires knew what they were doing. The same low-tech milk jug filled with gasoline was simple, hard to trace, and brutally effective. The buildings that had burned in Missoula and Helena had been heavily insured. Both owners had been out of town, with solid alibis.
Joan went inside the store and bought a few items she did not really want in order to provide a good reason why she was in the area.
Out of the convenience store’s door, Joan went around to her car and tossed her groceries in the back. Instead of getting behind the wheel, she ducked into the woods, got her bearings, and set off for Clarke’s house.
In the darkness, she weaved in and out of heavy thickets and fallen trees. When she emerged, she was staring into a lit-up house. She stopped, her heart pounding as she backed into the woods. At the kitchen table was a couple and a few kids. She had overshot her approach. “Terrific. Wrong house. Smooth, Joan. Really smooth.”
She moved to her right and made her way along the edge of the yard until she emerged from the woods to face the back of Clarke’s still house.
Her gaze was drawn to dark shadows for a long moment, hoping a solid reason would present itself and she could stand down from this crazy idea that she was about to undertake.
Finally, when reason stood her up, she glanced from left to right, hurried toward the back door, and peered through one of its glass panes that gave her a view of the kitchen. The sink was filled with unwashed dishes. Par for the course for a separated man. Hell, her own sink looked like this.