Elijah understood this was a test. The town arsonist was living in his house, and fire engines were blaring down the center of the city.
Pickett offered him a smoke.
Elijah held up his hand. “I don’t smoke.”
Pickett shrugged and tucked the packet into the breast pocket of his jean jacket. “I’ve been smoking since I was twelve. I hear it can kill me, but given the way I’ve always lived my life, the smokes are the least of my worries.”
Elijah decided to stick to compliments, just as he had with prison guards. “That was a fine dinner you served us tonight.”
“As long as you don’t get tired of old-fashioned cooking or barbecue, you’ll always be happy with what I serve.”
“I’m happy to eat anything served to me on this side of the prison wall. I’m a fair cook and willing to help.” The reminder of the shared meal was calculated. He wanted everyone to remember where he had been when that fire started.
Pickett inhaled, holding the smoke in his lungs before slowly releasing it. He pointed the cigarette toward the sirens. “What do you think is burning?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Sounds serious.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I don’t want any trouble.” Pickett flicked the glowing tip into an ashtray shaped like New York State. “I’m taking a chance on you. There are a lot of folks in town who don’t want you around.”
“I doubt I’m wanted anywhere.” There was no self-pity or bravado behind the statement. Life was easier to navigate if a man simply accepted what was fact instead of dreaming about what could be.
Pickett faced him. “Should I ask if you’re behind that fire?”
“I am not responsible for that fire. I was here eating meat loaf with you.”
Pickett regarded him as he inhaled and then exhaled what looked like worry. “Whatever is burning ain’t that far from here, and you look fit enough.”
“Running the yard relieves stress.”
“It can also keep you fit enough to cover distance quickly.”
“I didn’t set the fire.”
He pointed the lit cigarette toward the stain on the sidewalk. “I didn’t say you did. But there’ll be people who will think you did.”
“I have always maintained my innocence.”
“The guilty usually do.”
“If you think I set the College Fire ten years ago, then why take me in?”
He shrugged, stared at the tip of his cigarette. “Because a part of me believes any man can be redeemed. Change the course of his life for the better.” He stubbed out his cigarette on the star marking Albany.
Elijah asked, “Why New York for the ashtray?”
Pickett studied the ashtray, which was already half-full. “You ain’t the only one who did time. I pulled mine in New York.” He let the rest of the story dangle like a baited hook in a fishing stream.
Elijah did not care but heard himself asking, “What did you do?”
“Murder,” he said with no hint of apology. “I was drinking in those days. But I was also defending a lady’s honor in a bar.”
“Delilah’s?”
“I wish. But she drove the two thousand miles to see me. Told me that when I was able to come back home, she would be waiting.”
“And she was?”
“Yes, sir. She certainly was.”
A flicker of envy sparked in Elijah. “I suppose that’s why you married her.”
“A loyal woman is hard to find.”
“You might be right about that.”
Pickett reached for the doorknob. “Delilah gave me a second chance, which is why I’m giving you one. But like she told me nearly thirty years ago, ‘If you fuck this up, I’ll scalp you.’”
Elijah smiled and went inside the house.
As Gideon watched Fire Chief Clarke Mead walk toward him, he thought about the woman he had seen before the blaze destroyed the building. The thunderous flames now hissed as the firefighters sprayed water on the ruins.
Clarke removed his helmet and ran his hand over his salt-and-pepper hair, now damp with sweat despite the cooling temperatures. “It’s still too hot to walk the wreckage and conduct any kind of investigation. That’s likely to be tomorrow.”
“Can you tell what caused the fire?” Gideon asked.
“Hard to say. I did issue the building owner a citation a month ago. Several of her beauticians had rigged electrical outlets to carry a higher load beyond code. They were supposed to hire a licensed electrician to fix the problem. I was due back to check next week. They also improperly stored flammable chemicals, which explains the intensity of the blaze.”
“Who owns the building?” Gideon asked.
“Jessica and Darren Halpern.”
“Names aren’t familiar.”
“They are new to the area. Came here about a year ago from California. They liked the idea of Big Sky Country.”
The building had gone up quickly and burned to cinder. It could have been electrical, but Gideon was not ruling out arson. “How are the Halperns faring so far?”
“They said they’re doing well. Mr. Halpern complained about the winter, but then most of the new folks do.”
“This past winter was fairly mild.”
“That’s what I told him.” Amusement briefly softened the frown lines around Clarke’s mouth before his brow furrowed. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about Elijah Weston. He was released yesterday from prison.”
Gideon’s face hardened. “I am very aware of that.”
“Biggest fire this town has seen in a decade, and Elijah is living less than a mile away.”
“We’re a long way from making that accusation, Clarke.”
“You’re the cop, so I’ll leave it to you. But I would be paying the man a visit.”
“I will.”
Gideon and Clarke had both attended college in Missoula and had roomed together three doors down from the house Gideon’s parents had rented to Joan and Ann.
Weeks before the fire, Joan had begged him to move back east with her, and he had refused. With tears in her eyes, she had broken up with him. But during their days apart, he had gotten drunk and landed in bed with Helen. That fall from grace had proved to him how much he loved Joan. He had been ready to move east, at least for the summer. That would give them time to sort out their lives. But his plans to fix things between Joan and him had been delayed by the College Fire and then destroyed by Helen’s pregnancy.
Regret for the lost love rose up in Gideon’s chest. He should have long been over Joan, but thoughts of her still hurt.
His phone rang, and, seeing Kyle’s name, he drew in and released a breath and expelled the anger before he answered the call. “Hey, pal.”
“Dad, I’m at Aunt Ann’s with Nate.”
“Great.” He and Kyle lived in a house about a half mile from Ann’s, on Bailey land. Nate and Kyle had been close as younger boys, and now that they were settled, the first cousins were getting reacquainted. “Be sure you listen to Aunt Ann.”
“I will, Dad.”
He raised his gaze to the charred structure that had been the beauty shop hours ago and knew he would be on scene for several more hours.
He said goodbye, hung up, and then pushed the phone into his back pocket as he moved toward the rubble. The air was thick with the acrid smell of charred wood and chemicals. “Looks like our boys are having a sleepover at Ann’s tonight.”
Clarke shifted his stance and rolled his shoulders. “It was my night with Nate, but when I heard the sirens, I knew I’d better drop him off at Tim’s.”
“Ann’s going to have her hands full with those two.”
“My wife can juggle more than any woman I’ve ever met.”
“She’s always been that way.”
“I haven’t had the chance to say it yet, but it’s good to have you back, Gideon. Missed you this summer.”
“Kyle and I needed the break. To unplug. By the end, neither one of us missed the cell phone.”
Clarke chuckled. “How long did it take Kyle to reattach to his phone?”
Gideon grinned. “Thirty seconds.”
Smiling, Clarke shook his head. “Not sure Nate could survive without his. That boy has his mom’s brains and is going to be building his own computers one day.”
Gideon’s boy was rough-and-tumble. He was plenty smart but would rather play soccer or ride horses than crack a book. Kyle was a chip off the old block, and he liked the idea of Kyle hanging out with his more studious cousin. “Nate will be running the state and then the country one day.”
Clarke’s grin reflected his pride. “Who’s to say the two boys don’t partner up and run the state?”
Gideon laughed. “Kyle will be running the ranch, but he’ll help your boy whenever he needs assistance.”
“Chief Mead!” The callout came from one of the firefighters, Samuel Thompson. “Like you to see something.”
As Gideon and Clarke walked toward the building, the radiating heat stopped them before they could get within ten feet. “What is it?”
“Around back,” the firefighter said. “One of my men found a purse.”