by Stewart, Anna J. ; Sasson, Sophia; Carpenter, Beth; Jensen, Muriel
“The two of whom?” Dana’s voice was sharp, but when Sam bumped his foot against hers, she softened the question with a forced smile and pretended to inspect the ring with the blue stone.
“Why his partner, Roy, and his wife. Some folks figure maybe they was up to no good, and maybe the owner fellow—can’t think of his name—he didn’t much like it, and set the fire hisself.”
A fire. That’s how his father died. But what was this about a wife? Or did they mean Mom? But obviously his mother didn’t die in a fire. Maybe that was why his parents weren’t married, if Roy already had a wife. Of course, it could be that the old man was just confused.
Dana’s breathing grew faster. She dropped the blue ring onto the countertop and glared at the man. Obviously not a fan of gossip when it involved her father. Fortunately, the pawnshop owner was still bent over the tray of rings instead of watching her. Sam could see the anger building inside of her, waiting for a spark. Better get her out of there now and worry about this later. They might want more information from the man at some point.
Sam stepped between them. “Well, I think she’s chosen the ring she wants. How much?”
The old man squinted at some markings on the box and named a sum. Sam could almost feel Dana breathing fire behind his back, but he smiled and pulled some cash from his wallet for the ring. “Sounds fair. Thank you.”
“Nice doin’ business with ya. Come again.”
Dana’s arm trembled beneath his hand as Sam led her out the door. To her credit, she said nothing until they reached the truck. She slammed the door and turned on him. “That man is a liar.”
“I don’t think so. He may not know all the facts, but I doubt he was deliberately lying.”
“Spreading rumors, just as bad. Accusing my father of arson. I can’t believe you gave him money.”
“It worked. We got the information we were looking for.”
“Information? Or hearsay? You’ve just wasted your cash.”
Sam grinned. “It was a reasonable price for the ring. Why? Don’t you like it?”
“The ring is fine.” She looked down at her hand and her face softened. “It’s gorgeous, in fact. It’s the information I object to.”
“Ah.”
She raised that strong yet sweet chin in a stubborn gesture. “I know my father.”
Well, that made one of them. Sam didn’t know his father at all, and yet he shied away from the idea that Roy might have been married to someone else when Sam was conceived. He could understand why Dana was upset. Still… “You knew him when he was your father, but he had a whole other life before that. Maybe there’s a reason he never mentioned his time here.”
“I’ll never believe he was a cheat, much less an arsonist.”
She sounded so sure. Sam had his doubts, but there was no use upsetting her. “I don’t recall that our informant said he was. Only that there was speculation to that effect.”
Dana thought for a moment. “So, who were the two people who died? He said Roy and his wife.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
“Do you think he meant—”
“I don’t know who he meant, but I do know where we can get more information.”
“Where’s that?”
“The newspaper. We need to check out the back issues from that time.”
“Good idea.” She pulled the silver band from her finger. “Here’s your ring.”
He shook his head. “Keep it. I got it for you.”
The look she gave him was a mixture of suspicion and puzzlement. “You believe my father may have set a fire that killed yours, and yet you bought me a ring?”
“I don’t believe anything yet. I’m just gathering information. But even if I did think so, it has nothing to do with you. I don’t see why I can’t buy you a souvenir of your first trumpeter swan sighting.”
A small smile tugged at her bottom lip. “Seeing those swans was pretty awesome.”
“Yes, it was.”
She slid the ring back onto her hand and studied it. “It’s a beautiful ring. Thank you, Sam.”
“You’re welcome.”
She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Okay, then. Let’s go find out what the newspaper had to say.”
* * *
DANA PEERED INTO the microfiche machine. Now that they knew when her dad owned the Fairbanks property and the year he started the business in Kansas, it didn’t take long to find the article and print it out. The burning of The Nugget had been front-page news. Two pictures accompanied the write-up. The before picture was an interior shot of a bar decorated in a gold rush theme, with gold pans and pickaxes on the walls and kerosene lamps on the tables. Only a pile of blackened rubble remained in the second photo. Even the small cabin behind the bar sported a singed wall.
Two died when local drinking establishment The Nugget burned to the ground Wednesday night. According to Fire Chief Mike Barlow, the fire started in the public area, possibly from a kerosene lantern left unattended. Fiona Raynott, age 25, wife of bar owner Wayne Raynott, perished in the fire, along with co-owner Roy Petrov.
A wife? Her father had been married before and never bothered to mention it? Worse, a wife who had died under suspicious circumstances. Dana’s shoulders sagged. So that was what the old man at the pawnshop meant. Not Roy’s wife. Dad’s wife. She read on.
Raynott, who resides in the house adjacent to the popular bar, reported the fire at 3:52 a.m. His report states he woke, and finding his wife missing, went searching for her and observed the fire, at which time he called the fire department.
“It was a tinderbox; all that old wood just went up like kindling,” Chief Barlow stated. “We were lucky to keep it from spreading through the whole town.”
The article went on to get quotes from locals about what a popular place it was and how much they would miss it.
A bystander, who declined to give his name, said, “That Roy, he was a good guy. He’d give you the shirt off his back. And Miss Fiona, I don’t care what people are saying about her. She was a fine lady. It’s a crying shame.”
Much as she hated to, Dana could read between the lines. A missing wife, alone with Dad’s business partner in the wee hours of the morning. A convenient fire that took both their lives. Motive and opportunity screamed in capital letters.
Sam laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.
“I know it looks bad…”
Sam shrugged. “We still don’t know the whole story.”
“But the more we find out, the worse it seems. A wife he never mentioned—”
“How old is Chris?”
“He’s—Oh. Wow. I didn’t think about that. This woman who died. She must be…”
Sam finished her thought. “His mother.”
How could Dana not have realized? She, the math nerd, hadn’t added up the years until this moment. Looking back, she realized her parents didn’t dwell on or talk much about how long they’d been married. They never made a big deal out of anniversaries or birthdays, anyway, so she hadn’t noticed.
“You had no idea Chris was your half-brother?”
“No. The thought never entered my mind.” She tried to think if there had ever been any indication, but she couldn’t remember anything. “This might be what Chris and my dad fought over.”
“Could be.”
“Let’s see if we can find her obituary.”
They found it in the following week�
��s paper. A grainy photo topped the column, leaving no doubt as to Chris’s DNA. The same nose, the same wide, generous mouth, curly hair. The obituary itself was generic. Died suddenly, age twenty-five. Memorial service tomorrow. Down at the bottom, Dana found her suspicions spelled out in black-and-white: Fiona is survived by her husband, Wayne Raynott, and their infant son, Christopher.
Roy Petrov’s obituary in the same issue was even more brief. Died suddenly in tragic fire. Family unknown. No photograph.
Dana reached for Sam’s hand. “I’m sorry about your father.”
He nodded, his face almost expressionless, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. He squeezed her hand. After a long moment, he spoke. “I always knew he died. It just seems wrong that there was no family to mourn him.”
“What about your mother?”
“Good question. I don’t see anything about her here. Of course, if he was cheating on her…” Sam stared down at the newspaper as if he could change history by the sheer force of his will.
“With his partner’s wife.” Dana shook her head. “It’s all so sad.”
“Yeah.” Sam looked up. “Let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
DANA SAT IN the passenger seat beside Sam as they retraced their route along the highway back to Anchorage. He hadn’t said a word for hours now, his face expressionless as he drove. Kimmik stirred in the back seat and gave a mighty yawn. Next, he rested his front paws on the back of their seat and snuffled his nose against Dana’s hair. It tickled.
Her giggle finally brought a little smile to Sam’s face. “Kimmik, get down. What are you doing?”
Dana twisted around so she could rub the dog’s ears. He thumped his tail against the seat. “I bet he just wanted to make sure we were still breathing up here.”
“Probably.”
She watched Sam’s face for a moment. “You okay?”
“Sure. I mean, nothing’s really changed, right?”
“Not really. I guess if they were partners, I can see why your mother thought he owed her money and wrote those letters. Apparently he disagreed, since he never paid.”
Sam rubbed his chin. “I know for sure my mother received a check from him at least once, but she tore it up.”
“What? When?”
“When I was a kid. I remember her getting a check, and it made her angry. She tore it to shreds.”
“How old were you?”
“About nine.”
Dana did the math. “One of the letters we found was dated a couple of years after that. So why did she tear up a check and then turn around and demand payment?”
He shrugged. “Maybe she thought the check was a way to buy her off instead of giving her what she thought he owed.”
“So obviously she didn’t trust him.”
“Maybe she had a good reason not to trust him.”
“Your mother wasn’t a rational person. You said so.”
“I said she drank. When she wasn’t drinking, she was quite rational. And she said she wouldn’t accept blood money from Wayne Raynott.”
Blood money? Dana almost pointed out that rational people didn’t abandon their twelve-year-olds, but she bit her tongue. Sam knew better than anyone what his mother had done. So why would he trust her judgment in anything? The official reports were on her dad’s side. They’d gone back to the paper this morning to get copies of follow-up articles, including when the insurance settled the investigation and paid the claim. “The investigation cleared him of arson.”
“They failed to find evidence of arson.”
“Same thing.”
“Not exactly.” He glanced at her. “Inability to prove guilt isn’t proof of innocence.”
“Well, it sure isn’t proof of guilt.”
“True.” At least Sam gave her that. “But if he sent money—”
“Maybe he just felt sorry for her. You have to admit, the facts support him.”
“No.” He raised his chin. “I don’t.”
She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead. After a minute, Sam glanced her way. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
She shrugged.
Sam reached across the seat and touched her arm. “I need some time to think about this before I come to any conclusions.”
“You can have all the time you want. I’m just here to determine if you, as Roy Petrov’s son, have a legitimate claim on my father’s estate, not whether he burned down a bar. Because I’ll never believe he was an arsonist.”
“Well, then, let me check off that agenda item for you. I don’t want anything to do with Wayne Raynott or his money. You can tell the lawyers that.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You think he did it.”
“I. Don’t. Know.” From the back seat, Kimmik whined, upset by Sam’s tone. He continued in a softer voice. “I never met him. You tell me he was an honorable man. But that doesn’t quite jibe with Chris cutting ties with him. I’d like to hear what Chris has to say about this.” They came around a bend and found themselves in some tiny town. “I need to get gas. Would you mind going inside and getting me a cup of coffee?”
“Fine.” Dana went in, used the ladies’ room and bought two cups of coffee. She carried them to the truck and handed one to Sam. “Black, right?”
“Thank you.” Sam took a sip and set it in the cup holder. He turned to face her. “Really. Thank you.”
Dana nodded. By unspoken agreement, they didn’t discuss anything they’d learned in Fairbanks for the rest of the drive home. Sam pointed out a few sights along the way, but his heart obviously wasn’t in it. They had lapsed back into silence by the time they reached the outskirts of Anchorage.
Sam made a left into his neighborhood. “Hungry?”
Dana agreed. “A little.”
“How does pizza sound?”
“Fine.”
He pulled into the garage. “I’ll call in the order. What do you like on it?”
She shrugged. “I like everything.”
“Good, because that’s exactly how I like it. With everything.” They grabbed their bags and he followed her up the stairs, Kimmik bounding on ahead.
Dana opened the refrigerator door and checked the contents. “I’ll make a salad to go with it.”
“Sounds good.”
Sam pulled his phone from his pocket and disappeared into his bedroom. Dana allowed herself to shoot an imaginary dagger into his back before she went to work slicing a carrot and a tomato. She was tossing them with the salad greens when Kimmik ran toward the front door, wagging his tail. Steps sounded on the stairs outside. That was fast. Dana stepped over to grab her purse for a tip.
The door flew open and she spun around, startled. But not as startled as Chris looked when he spotted her.
“You’re still here?” There was a note of panic in his voice.
“Obviously.”
“Then you’ve met—”
“Yes, she has.” Sam strode in from the hallway. “I can’t tell you how surprised I was to discover you have a sister. And that was only the first surprise of many.”
Chris looked back and forth between them like he was expecting an attack from both sides. He held up his hands. “I can explain.”
“You better make it good.” Sam came to stand beside Dana. “Because right now I’m not sure if I believe anything that comes out of your mouth.”
* * *
BEFORE ANYONE COULD explain anything, the pizza arrived. Sam decided the discussion might go better on a full stomach, anyway. He tipped the delivery guy and carried the pizza to the bar.
“Let’s eat first.” He looked pointedly at Chris. “And then you can tell us exactly what’s been going through th
at so-called mind of yours.”
Chris gave a smirk, probably assuming that if Sam was ribbing him, he wasn’t about to blow a gasket at him. Which was true. Nevertheless, Sam didn’t intend to let him get away with anything short of full disclosure.
Dana set out plates, dropping the one in front of Chris with more force than necessary. Sam was amused to see the look of trepidation on Chris’s face when he realized how angry Dana was. Good. They could work together to get the truth out of Chris.
Chris opened the pizza box and wrinkled his nose. “Mushrooms?” At Dana’s withering gaze, he set a slice on his plate. “I’ll pick them off.”
“Good plan.”
Sam took some of the salad Dana had made and passed it to her. She caught his eye and, for a moment, he felt they were on the same side. Then he remembered their argument in the car. She must have remembered, too, because she broke eye contact and served herself some salad.
Once the pizza was gone, they moved to the living room. Chris settled on the couch. Dana perched on the other end, and Sam sat in a nearby chair. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared into Chris’s face. “Okay, talk.”
“I don’t know what you know—”
“Then why don’t you tell us everything? From the beginning. Starting with why you came to Alaska.”
Sam glanced at Dana. She was staring at Chris, her usually soft brown eyes focused like a laser on her brother. “Yeah. Let’s start with the day you left home.”
Chris looked toward the ceiling and sighed. “Okay. But first, I need to show you something. Wait here.”
Chris trotted down the stairs to his bedroom. After a few minutes, he returned carrying a metal box. He unlocked it and, after shuffling through a few papers, pulled out a yellowed envelope. “I was up in the attic, putting away some stuff, and I happened to see an old trunk I thought I could use in my apartment at school. When I opened it, I found these.”
He spread the contents of the envelope on the coffee table. Dana leaned forward to examine them. Even upside down, Sam could read Chris’s State of Alaska birth certificate listing his mother as Fiona McCarthy Raynott. A yellowed clipping of the article they had seen about the fire rested beside it on the table. Dana picked up the two cardboard photograph folders and opened the top one. She examined it, a trace of a smile crossing her face, and then she handed it to Sam.
