“I know that. Mrs. Barlow had your attention and there was no way I was going to mention Dawn might be here around her. And I was afraid Karen would come here and look for Dawn.”
“Officer Mitchell has a close eye on you. If he was around, he’d arrest you.”
“Doesn’t that man ever sleep? I’m not doing anything wrong. There’s no crime scene tape up. How was I to know it’s still an active crime scene?”
Ted pushed a button on the walkie-talkie clipped to his bullet-resistant vest. “The tape is down at Made With Love. Find out who removed it.” He turned to me. “Time for you to head home. I’ll take a look around for Dawn. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“Not really.”
Ted fixed a chastising stare on me.
I followed after him.
“Okay, I do need to buy a new phone.”
A sharp crack filled the air. Followed by another.
“Get down!” Ted yanked me to the ground, shielding me with his body.
Crack!
I screamed. We were being shot at!
“Get behind the mound.” Ted gestured toward the small pile of dirt at the edge of the property. “I’ll stay here and draw their attention.”
Tears rushed into my eyes. “No.”
“Go. An engine is coming this way. I need you out of the line of fire.” Ted drew his service revolver.
I couldn’t let Ted get killed because of me. The only choice I had was taking cover. My long-ago Army training came in handy as I expertly low-crawled my way toward the mound. I gagged as a decaying stench wrapped around me. What died over here?
Another shot rang out. Ted returned fire. A large black truck with mounted roll bars and tinted windows sped by, swerving off the grass and onto the road.
“Stay there until I give the all clear,” Ted yelled. “I have backup on the way.”
I had to get away from the horrible smell. I sprang to my feet, catching the toe of my shoe on a root and tripping forward. My hands sank into the soft pile of dirt in front of me. There was something buried here. The dirt was recently turned over. I dug, not caring about the twigs and edges of sharp stones stabbing into my hands. “Ted!”
My hands worked on their own accord. Fingertips protruded from the dirt. I continued digging, revealing an arm. “There’s a body up here.”
Ted cursed.
My fingers exposed an ear. I brushed dirt from the person’s face. Charlie Powell, the insurance investigator, stared vacantly up at the sky.
“Damn.” Ted stood over me. He pressed the button on the walkie-talkie. “Found Powell. Send the coroner.”
Sitting on the hood of Ted’s cruiser, I wrapped my arms around myself.
“You okay?” Jasper handed me a foam cup of Home Brewed coffee, a white bag tucked between his elbow and waist. He had a black eye and a few other purple bruises on his face. “Dianne said raspberry mocha was your favorite.”
“Thank you.”
Jasper leaned against the side of the cruiser and opened the bag.
“Want a blueberry scone?”
“I’m not hungry,” I said. “It’s nice to see you back. Unless you didn’t want to be.”
“The doctor preferred I take a couple more days off, but I wanted to return to duty. Chief Moore needs me. With the fires, Carr’s murder, and now another one, every officer is running on fumes.”
“I’m sorry you were in trouble because of me.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Want to tell me what happened?”
“Detective Roget knows.” I fought back tears. I hadn’t known Charlie long, but he seemed like a nice guy. Why had he come back to the scene? And more importantly, why had someone killed him?
“When did you talk with Charlie Powell?” Jasper asked. “It seems you’re the last person who spoke to him.”
I stared at him.
“Charlie Powell’s boss called the station this morning.” Jasper leaned against the car. “His wife hadn’t heard from him all day yesterday and was worried. He always called home to read their daughter a bedtime story. It’s something he’s done since she was born. His daughter is eight.”
Tears ran down my cheeks. “That poor little girl. When was the last time someone saw him?”
“There were sightings of him going into Scrap This and leaving with you,” Jasper said. “After that, nothing.”
Officer Mitchell would love this. One more reason to label me a murderer.
I watched the coroner van’s pull up. “He was going to talk to the fire chief because there was something he found odd about the scene.”
Jasper jotted down my statement. “Do you know what time he arrived?”
“I don’t know if he even made it. He went to talk to Chief Ridley, and I went to talk to Detective Roget.”
EIGHTEEN
“I don’t need an escort.” I exited my car and stomped toward my front door. I didn’t know if my attitude resulted from holding back grief over Charlie’s death, Ted ordering Jasper to go with me to replace my phone and then follow me home, or a combination of both. Ted had stayed at Made With Love to secure the scene and wait for the coroner to finish.
“I’d agree with you, except you keeping showing up in places that tick off Detective Roget. Powell’s murder just complicated this case.”
“Now it’s complicated?” I unlocked the door.
“With Dawn’s disappearing act, the public believes she had more to do with the sale of the drugs than just be being married to Chad. And you’ve been helping her. I’d advise you to stay inside.”
I harrumphed a reply.
“I didn’t hear a yes from you,” Jasper said.
A shut door was my response.
I pressed my ear to the door, listening for Jasper to pull out of my driveway. I frowned. Nothing. What was the guy doing? I wandered over to the window and pulled back the curtain.
Jasper had walked over to Mrs. Barlow’s house. Even from across the street, I could feel the happiness radiating from Mrs. Barlow as she bobbed her head up and down, a beaming smile decorating her face. Jasper hugged her.
Butterflies took flight in my stomach. I had just been had. Moments later, Mrs. Barlow exited her house with a small square black bag and a canopy sports chair. She set up the chair, angling it toward my house. Shrugging off the strap of the bag, she settled into the chair and leaned over to pull items from her bag. With a jaunty wave toward me, she placed a notebook and a pair of binoculars on her lap, and a water bottle went into the chair’s cupholder.
I should’ve just promised Jasper I’d stay put. I sat in the chair near the window and picked up a book from the coffee table. I planned on reading a few pages, then checking to see if Mrs. Barlow had gone inside yet. She’d have to take a potty break sooner or later.
Hours later, I conducted another Mrs. Barlow check. She waved at me. I let go of the curtain. I hated doing nothing. There was no way I was getting out of the house without her squealing on me. I was sure if I said I was going out for a bite to eat, Mrs. Barlow would tag along. I didn’t want her knowing what I was up to, and more importantly, I didn’t want Ted finding out.
My whole being felt jittery, especially knowing Mitchell was building a case against me. This all started because the teens lied. I had to talk with Hannah. I glanced down at my sneakered feet. Walking was good for a person. I decided against calling Hannah, opting to make it a surprise visit. I’d grab a flashlight, then I was ready. I tugged on a hoodie, zipping it all the way up, and dropped the flashlight down the front. Pressing the flashlight to my side so it didn’t slip out of my hoodie, I went out the back door. It might take me a few attempts before I made it over the back fence with one arm.
I was right. It took three tries before I got up and over the fence.
Fortunately, I landed safely on the other side, and my neighbor had their Labrador in the house when I made my escape. I wasn’t worried about the dog attacking me, just licking me to death. Howard was an overly friendly dog with no boundaries whatsoever.
The streets were quiet. I swept the light back and forth across the ground. At the next town meeting, I’d suggest sidewalks for all areas of town, not just ones in family neighborhoods. I walked as close to the trees as possible without becoming one with them. If Ted got wind of my “prison break,” he’d send out a search party, and I was sure in his irritation, he’d dub Mitchell the leader. The trek was longer than I thought and the night had turned cold. When I headed out, eight blocks hadn’t seemed that far, but after walking up the third hill, I was regretting my hasty decision of not calling.
After some more heavy breathing and exertion, I reached the Hanson house. There were lights on. Good. I wasn’t disturbing anyone’s slumber. I rang the bell and waited. I stamped my feet, trying to stay warm. I pressed the doorbell again.
The curtain moved back a sliver. Two blue eyes peered at me then vanished.
“Come on, I see you, Hannah.” Or maybe it was Charlotte. Mother and daughter had the same color eyes.
I heard voices arguing in harsh whispers. I debated turning myself into a nuisance, but realized it ruined the whole plan of Ted not finding out. My trip might be in vain. I walked around on the porch. The air felt colder when I stood still.
Finally, the door opened. I rushed inside. “It’s cold out there.”
“I didn’t hear your car.” Hannah looked out the door. “Where is it?”
“I walked.”
“Why?”
“Long story.” Sooner or later someone would check up on me. It had been a long time since I snuck out of my house. The first and last time I had done it I was seventeen—and I got caught. “Why were you at Made With Love the night of the fire?”
Hannah drew back, opening and closing her mouth like an oxygen-starved fish.
“I don’t have time for niceties. Karen England plans on proving Felicity lied. When she’s successful, the police will come to ask you questions.”
“I wasn’t there,” Hannah said.
“You were already there when your mom and I arrived.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Hannah ran into the living room and threw herself on the couch. School books, notebooks, and index cards slipped to the floor.
I felt a little bad for making her cry, but there was no way I’d go to prison to cover up for her. “I don’t want to do anything to you. I’m trying to keep myself out of jail. Officer Mitchell has his sights set on me.”
“I swear I had nothing to do with the fire or Mr. Carr’s death. I wasn’t there.” Hannah raised her tear-stained face toward me.
“I saw you there. So did Detective Roget and Officer Mitchell. Try again.” My patience and temper were being pushed beyond their limits.
“I got there after my mom. I took Brandon there. He told me his mom went to the bonfire to catch the kids with the Janie. He was worried the football players would hurt her. That stuff can make people crazy violent.” Hannah gathered up the items on the floor, placing them on a pile of fashion magazines and catalogs for manicurist supplies.
A little bit of my sympathy returned for Hannah. She knew her friend wasn’t physically able to help his mom, so she accompanied him. “Where were you when Brandon called? We went to find you.”
“At Daniel’s house.” Hannah blushed and lowered her gaze to the floor.
“Daniel Burke? The volunteer firefighter guy?”
She nodded.
“At night?”
Hannah huffed out a breath. “Yes. I snuck out to spend a couple of hours with him. Daniel always takes me back home. I don’t spend the night there.”
Gee, that made it better.
“Daniel didn’t want me at the bonfire. Said it would be nothing but trouble.” Hannah sat cross-legged on the couch. The girl couldn’t keep still.
“At least the man has some sense.”
“When my mom saw I’d left, she called my cell. I told my mom I was with Felicity at Made With Love, that I had promised to help find the drugs.” She changed positions again, now slouching against the armrest.
“You have to tell your mom the truth.” The web woven was growing thicker and thicker.
“I can’t tell my mom.” She bolted upright, kicking the stack of books, magazines, and catalogs to the floor. “She’ll kill Daniel.”
“I’m sure she won’t.” Hurt him, yes. Kill him, doubtful.
“She will.”
The front door opened. “I will what?” Charlotte walked in, frowning at me.
“Give Faith a ride home. She broke down.” Hannah rushed out the words.
I occupied myself with picking up the scattered items from the floor. Underneath an order form with a lot of cross-outs was a Vulcan Catering business card. My mind flicked back to the night this all started for me. Charlotte had said she was meeting with an insurance agent.
“I’ll bring some pizza home,” Charlotte said, motioning for me to move it along.
“Thanks, Mom.” Hannah beamed at her. “See you later, Faith.”
“So what’s going on? Really?” Charlotte asked the moment my derrière touched the passenger seat.
“I wanted to know where Hannah was the night of the fire.” I buckled up as the truck shot backwards.
“You have no right to question my child when I’m not home.”
“It’s because of you and your child I’m in this mess. Hannah let the police believe I brought the drug to the girls.”
“Hannah fibbed. She was scared. Don’t worry, no one thinks you’re a drug dealer.”
“Officer Mitchell does. And he thinks I’m a murderer. Karen says there is no way Felicity was capable of killing Chad Carr, and another man was murdered after Felicity was locked up.”
“She could’ve done it beforehand.” Charlotte weaved around a pothole.
“No. People saw me talking to the man on Monday. He worked for the insurance agency and was investigating the fires. The company was suspicious about paying out on three policies in this little area.”
“I don’t blame them. I’d look twice too.” Charlotte glanced into the rearview mirror and frowned.
“Are we being followed?” I turned around. A dark-colored truck turned onto the crossroad.
“A little too close to my bumper. I hate tailgaters.”
I shivered. Was it the same person who shot at me and Ted?
“You okay?” Charlotte fixed a concerned motherly look on me.
“I’m fine. All of this is bringing up bad memories.”
“I’m sorry, Faith.” She squeezed my shoulder. “I know trying to protect my daughter is costing you. I promise you won’t go to jail. I won’t let it get that far.”
“Easy to say, harder to do when the time comes.”
“We know you didn’t kill Carr. I didn’t kill him. Hannah didn’t. And it seems Karen has enough to prove Felicity didn’t. So that leaves…” Charlotte trailed off.
“Allan Sullivan. Felicity is lying either because she wants the hero’s reward for killing the criminal, or she’s protecting her husband.”
NINETEEN
Nightmares had kept me tossing and turning all night. Every time I closed my eyes, Charlie’s face—alive and dead—filled my head. Our conversation played over and over like a song on repeat. I tried grasping what my subconscious demanded I knew, but the lack of sleep hindered rather than helped. The one image that was a constant in every reenactment was Charlie’s interest in the burnt grass circle. It was like the ring held the answer to finding the murderer and their reason for it.
I had taken some photos on my
phone. A clue was in those pictures. Fortunately, the salesclerk at the cell phone store was able to transfer all of my data over. I sprang from the bed, unplugging the new cell from the charger, and raced to my office.
In a few seconds, I’d downloaded them onto my computer. I brought up the picture folder and enlarged the photos to fit the monitor screen. I tapped the mouse, going through each photograph. The circle around the building was nearly perfect. No way it had happened naturally. I didn’t know much about starting fires, but I knew a Google search would tell me everything I wanted to know.
I scanned through the search results, stopping on one titled “Using Bonfires for Controlled Burns.” As I read the article, fear and anger grew inside of me. During planned fires, a black line was created to reduce the amount of material consumed by the flames. Small fires—back burning—were created to “burn back towards the main fire.”
The circle on the ground was the “black line” established to make sure the fire started at Made With Love didn’t branch out too far from the building. Someone in the know set the fire.
My mind flickered to the business card I had found at the game after I spotted Chad talking to someone. Had someone stolen my camera because they were afraid I caught them meeting with him?
All the businesses that had burned down were insured by Allan Sullivan. Was that why Felicity turned herself in? To save her husband? It had to raise suspicions, especially in a small town, that one insurance agent sold the policies to all the businesses that sustained fire damage.
Saturday night, Jim Ryland had been upset when I opened his register. Had he been worried that I’d seen the Vulcan Catering business card?
I felt sick. Had Allan found a way to increase his income by causing a few fires in order to pick up more business clients? Was Allan working with someone in the volunteer fire squad? Or was I totally off-base?
God, I really hoped I was off-base. I liked Allan. I liked Felicity. It was easier to consider the people you didn’t like as possible murderers.
Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4) Page 17
