The fire roared louder as it consumed the building, and flaming pieces fell to the ground around her. She turned onto her belly and started to crawl away from the heat consuming her.
Strong hands banded around her, hauled her up, and tossed her over a wide set of shoulders. She lay limp like a rag doll and struggled to catch her breath.
She watched the ground move under her and felt distance grow between her and the flames. When they were at least a hundred feet from the blaze, her savior laid her gently on the front porch. The building garage cracked and broke, and the structure collapsed.
“Joan.” Gideon’s sharp tone cut through her mind’s haze. “Joan.”
She coughed and tried to sit up. Through her blurred vision, she stared into Gideon’s intense gaze. Her throat was raw, and the scent of burned hair filled her nostrils. Her voice was barely a whisper. “It was Clarke.”
“I know.”
“He wanted to burn me alive.”
Gideon gathered her up in his arms and held her close. She raised her hand to his arm and gripped his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“Me too.” Her voice was rough with smoke inhalation and emotion.
“This time we figure it out together.”
“Yes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Missoula, Montana
Friday, September 11, 2020
5:00 a.m.
Gideon had ridden in the ambulance to the hospital with Joan and had been at her side as the doctors examined her and treated her for burns and bruising. When she’d finally fallen into a deep sleep, he had called Ann and told her about the fire and his trip to the emergency room with Joan.
When Ann pushed through the emergency room doors, her face was flushed and her eyes bright with panic. She spotted Gideon and rushed toward him. “Gideon. I dropped the boys off with Tim’s mother like you asked.”
He crossed to her, searching for the right words. Finding none, he said, “Clarke is dead.”
“What?”
He watched the play of shock and disbelief on her face as she searched his gaze. He thought back to the moment when he had told Kyle his mother had died. Delivering the news had gutted him. And now he had to tell his sister that he had shot and killed her husband. He would have done anything to spare his sister this kind of pain. But the truth had to be told, and he wanted her to hear this from him and no one else. “I shot him.”
“I don’t understand.” Her eyes darkened with questions and confusion.
Gideon shifted his stance but kept his focus on Ann. “Clarke was trying to kill Joan. He set fire to the garage apartment.”
“Clarke?” She shook her head and hesitated, as if she expected some kind of punch line. When none came, she said, “No, he wouldn’t do that.”
“I promise you, he did.”
She raised a trembling hand to her forehead. “I don’t understand why he would do something like that.”
“I don’t understand it all yet, either. But I’m headed out to get a search warrant so I can go through his house.”
“It’s my house, too. You don’t need a warrant. You have my permission.”
“I’m still getting a search warrant. I don’t want any confusion later.”
A female uniformed officer approached them, and he motioned for her to come closer.
Tears welled in Ann’s eyes. He kissed her on the forehead. “This is Officer Wilson. She’s going to take care of you.”
“I don’t need taking care of.”
“Yes, you do, and I can’t do it right now. When I have more answers, you’ll be the first person I call.”
Ann looked at him a long moment and then slowly nodded. She fished her keys from her purse. “Take my keys.”
“Thanks.”
Gideon left Ann with the uniformed officer. It took another hour to get his warrant and arrive at Clarke’s residence with Becca and a forensic tech. The keys Ann had given him did not work in the door. It was not a surprise that Clarke had changed the locks. A half hour later, he had a locksmith on scene.
Becca shook her head as she regarded the house. “I was just here last year for a cookout that Ann and Clarke had for the Fourth of July. Clarke seemed so in love with Ann.”
“Love or obsession?”
“Clearly the latter,” she said.
A car pulled up, and Gideon turned to see Ann get out. He cursed. “I told her to stay at the hospital.”
“She has a right to be here,” Becca said. “This is her life imploding.”
Ann rushed toward him, her face pale and her features tight with anger. “Joan is still unconscious, and I cannot just sit and wait. What is going on?”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping the answers are inside.”
“Have you gone in yet?” she asked.
“About to. We’re working on the lock.”
“Why aren’t you using my keys to get into the house?”
“The lock’s been changed,” Gideon said.
“Why would he do that? He kept saying he wanted me to move home. Why would he change the locks?”
The locksmith worked his implements into the lock, and it clicked open. He twisted the knob and pushed the door open. “There you go.”
“I want to be there,” Ann said.
“No,” Gideon said as he blocked her path.
“This house was my home for so many years,” she protested.
“Right now, it is a crime scene investigation. So you will stand on the curb and wait. I don’t want you anywhere near this investigation.”
“He is . . . was my husband.”
“I know, Ann. I know he was a good father and he loved you. But I’m not sure if we ever really knew him.”
“I knew him,” she said, frowning. “Or at least I thought I did.”
“We were all fooled.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “Now, I need to ask you to step back. This is a criminal investigation, Ann.”
She wrapped her arms around her chest. “It can’t be happening. I’m going to wake up and this nightmare will be over.”
“Ann, have you spoken to Nate?”
“Not yet. I will soon. I just need to get my head around all this.”
“You should be with him. You two need to talk. Let me take care of this.”
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Call me when you know something.”
“I will. You should go and see Nate.”
“This is all too much. I still can’t process it,” Ann said. “How’s Joan ever going to forgive me?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Ann. Don’t take any responsibility for what Clarke did.”
She shook her head. “I should have listened to her years ago. I should have left and moved east.”
“Don’t do that. No good will come of it. Go home to Nate. Let me figure this out.”
Ann drew in a breath and squared her shoulders. “Thank you, Gideon.”
He watched as she got in her car and drove off.
“I got it,” the locksmith said. “Have a look at this.”
“Thanks, Bill.”
Gideon followed the locksmith’s finger to a small piece of tape secured to the door and jamb. It was unbroken. He pulled on protective gloves and summoned the tech over. She collected the piece of tape and bagged it.
“Check it for fingerprints.”
“Will do, boss.”
Gideon stepped over the threshold. He moved into the kitchen, opening the pantry. There were no empty milk jugs or rags as Joan had said.
He looked around the kitchen, searching the corners and the vents for any sign of a camera. But security could have been as low-tech as a piece of tape on the front door or a back window to have alerted Clarke.
He moved to the bedroom overlooking the patio and tried the window. On the dresser was a framed picture of Clarke, Ann, and Nate. Beside it was a picture of Ann that had been taken the same day the other image of Joan, Ann, and Gideon had. If Clarke had taken these pictures, he was likely the source of the picture Lana had had in her suitcase.
As he searched Clarke’s face in the first picture, he wanted to see signs of the evil in the man. But there was nothing that appeared to lurk behind the smiling eyes.
He turned to the window and studied the lock. On the top sash was a clear piece of tape that had been dislodged. If this was how Joan had accessed the house, Clarke would have discovered it. “You were made in seconds, Joan.”
He looked around the bedroom, taking in the unmade bed and the scattered clothes. He moved to the closet, where Clarke had lined up a collection of books next to a small cabinet secured with a combination lock.
Given that Clarke had been caught trying to commit murder, Gideon’s search warrant allowed him access to every corner and drawer in this house. He spoke to the forensic tech, who retrieved a pair of bolt cutters. Wrapping the sharp ends around the lock, Gideon shoved the handles together. The lock snapped open.
As the tech filmed the process, Gideon opened the cabinet door. Inside was a collection of DVDs, and each was marked in Clarke’s neat, bold handwriting. Gideon selected the first recording, identified with the description “Practice fire #1.”