If he ever speaks to me again.
***
He was missing something. It flitted at the edges of Ben’s consciousness, taunting him with its vague presence, but every time he tried to focus his attention on it, the answer darted into the shadows. Toby was innocent but he was connected to this in some important way. As much as he disliked holding Toby in a cell any longer than necessary, he needed to talk to Bob.
He pulled into the driveway and the front door opened as soon as he got out of the car. Narelle guarded the entrance with her arms crossed beneath her bosom. ‘Well? Where’s Toby?’
‘Perhaps we should go inside before we start talking about this.’
‘The neighbours already know what you’ve done. How could you arrest Toby? It’s ridiculous.’
He resisted the urge to scrub his face in his hands. Instead he ignored the question and the accusation. ‘Has Bob changed his story?’
‘He’s asleep. He was distraught and tired himself out.’
‘If you want to help Toby, then I suggest you wake Bob so I can talk to him again.’
She huffed through her nose and her lips puckered, but she motioned for him to follow her into the house. He took a seat in the family room. He couldn’t fault her for her loyalty to her nephew. In fact, he’d always liked Narelle, but right now she was someone else ready to have a go and he was running out of patience.
Voices murmured down the hall. He hoped Bob was lucid enough for this conversation.
‘Where’s my son?’ Bob asked as he came into the room. His usual smile was gone, replaced with the stern glare of the fire chief he’d once been. Ben stood up to not feel so small beneath that reproach.
‘He’s at the station. We’re holding him while we check out parts of his story.’
‘You’ve got the wrong guy.’
‘So people keep telling me,’ he said, sitting back down. Bob sat opposite with Narelle hovering to the side. ‘Do you remember what you said at the hospital about seeing Toby lighting the fire at the house?’
‘I never said that.’
Ben looked at Narelle, but her closed face told him he wasn’t going to get any support from her. ‘I’m afraid you did. Twice. You said you’d gone into the kitchen and saw Toby outside the window.’
‘I was confused. It wasn’t Toby, but it was someone who looked like him.’
‘But that’s not what you said.’
‘Then I’m changing my story,’ Bob boomed, whether from the affront at having his authority questioned or in frustration.
Witnesses changed their stories all the time, often when they realised they’d implicated loved ones. Unless Bob could offer him something new, he’d come across as an unreliable witness.
‘You won’t do Toby any favours if you’re protecting him when he’s done something wrong.’
‘That boy would never harm me or anyone, so I’m telling you, I didn’t see Toby out the window.’ Bob’s jaw jutted forward. ‘I came into the kitchen. The fire was already lit. I looked out the window and a face looked back at me. The bastard got a shock and took flight. I called out to Toby, and then ran out of the house to catch the perpetrator.’
Each statement, fired in a casing of rebuke, struck Ben’s core. Wounded, he spoke softer but he had to continue. ‘Can you describe him?’
‘Black hair, white guy. Hard to tell really because I didn’t have the best view but…but he looked like Toby but it wasn’t Toby.’
Toby, but not Toby.
Ben sat back in his chair, not speaking, not moving, letting the words filter through his head. If Bob was changing his story, then the description matched that of the guy Sharon had seen. And as he held that thought in his head, his stomach shrivelled and sank into murky dankness, taking the last of his breath with it.
It can’t be him.
He wiped his palms along his legs. ‘The other day, after the fire at the cemetery, you said you saw Toby there too. Did you?’
He frowned. ‘I went to the cemetery?’
Narelle moved at the edge of his vision.
Bob pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. ‘I can’t remember. I can’t remember going to the cemetery.’
‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘So, you’re saying it wasn’t Toby who lit the fire at your house?’
‘That’s right. So, will you let him go?’
If his suspicions were correct, then they needed to be looking elsewhere. He knew where to start. He stood to go.
‘Well?’ Bob demanded. ‘What will you do with Toby?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘If you’re changing your statement and as we’ve been unable to find any other witnesses to Toby starting the fire, then he’s free to go.’
Bob spluttered. ‘And what about catching the guy who really did this? Should we be worried he’s going to come for us again?’
Bob wasn’t the target. That was one thing he could be certain about. ‘Based on new evidence, I’m confident we’ll arrest a suspect soon, and I believe you’re no longer in danger. However, please keep an eye out for anyone looking suspicious.’
He exited, ignoring the stunned looks on their faces. They might hate him but arresting Toby wouldn’t be the worst thing he’d done in all this. Not after what he’d come to realise. Toby was innocent and had to be released.
But if he were in a cell at least he’d be safe from the man who was trying to kill him.
Chapter Ten
The cell door clanged open, releasing some of the stagnant air from the confined space. Toby’s eyes had traced the walls for hours, following the lines of scratches and graffiti, running over the cracks and chips in the paintwork. He hadn’t been able to rest; the worries of what they’d use to incriminate him and how his dad was coping gnawed at him. So he’d watched the walls, partly to be sure they weren’t closing in any further.
Ben stood in the doorway. In one hand he held Toby’s phone; in the other the bag containing his shorts.
And the letter.
Has Ben read it? Or does he remember what he wrote?
He turned back to the wall. Keeping quiet was the best thing for him at this stage. If only he’d done that before. Or at least asked for a lawyer. Playing over the interview in his head, there’d been too many moments where he’d sounded guilty. Perhaps not beyond a shadow of a doubt but enough to tarnish his reputation.
‘You’re free to go,’ Ben said when it became obvious Toby wasn’t going to speak first.
His heart thudded into his throat, but the tight hold he kept on his jaw stopped it from getting any further. He should be happy about this. He was free. Exonerated.
But he’d been innocent all along.
And Ben hadn’t believed him.
His heart slid back down to where it belonged, leaving behind an oily slick as he levered himself off the bench and head for the door.
Ben gave him his phone and offered him the bag. Toby looked at it then stared ahead. He didn’t want to see any regret in Ben’s eyes, or any hint of an apology. They were past that. He might have been the one to push Ben away in the beginning, but Ben had fixed the distance in place.
‘I don’t want it.’ Toby knew the letter off by heart, but without that visual reminder those assertions of love would fade.
Can’t come soon enough.
Ben’s hand lowered.
Toby left the cell, but he’d not gone far before Ben’s words brought him to a standstill.
‘Has anyone followed you lately?’
He snorted. ‘So, you finally believe me when I say it’s not me or Dad who’s been lighting fires?’
Ben couldn’t meet his gaze and for one traitorous second he felt sorry for the guy. Ben had made a mistake—a monumental mistake—and it was easy to see he felt bad.
But that and five bucks didn’t go far these days.
‘Your neighbour saw someone by the house yesterday, and your dad now says it wasn’t you he saw out the window, but instead someone who looks like y
ou.’
‘And you want to catch the person who tried to kill us? Like a real police officer?’
Ben’s eyes flared, searing through the shame, before his gaze weakened and sank to the floor.
‘Do you want an apology? Right.’ His chest inflated and he raised his head. ‘I’m sorry for falsely accusing you of being the arsonist. And I’m sorry you lost your house. If you could answer my question, I’d be grateful because if something happened to you again—’
The words stuck in Ben’s throat, but the way Toby was feeling it was like they stuck in his. A lump bulged in his neck, built from rage and pride, but then the concern on Ben’s face and the way he’d said ‘again’ dissolved it. For how long would Ben hang around? For how much longer would he care?
He spoke before Ben could continue. ‘I haven’t noticed anyone following me or felt watched. Do you think we’re in danger?’
Ben rubbed his forehead. ‘I think your dad’s safe.’
His pulse boomed in his ears, as loud as Ben’s meaning.
‘But I’m not.’
‘I don’t know, but you need to be careful.’
His breath shortened, and his chest constricted as adrenaline galloped through his body. He raised his hand. ‘Wait. Are we in police protection territory here? If you think someone’s after me, shouldn’t I have more than a few bits of advice from Echo Springs’s finest?’
Ben gave a crooked smile, his dimple appearing briefly before fading away, along with his ability to look Toby in the eye.
‘Who is it, Ben?’ He stepped closer.
‘I don’t know. Not for sure. But…look, I think it’d be safer if you took a holiday out of town for a few days.’
His heart jerked. If he was a target, he couldn’t stay with Narelle and Frank. But he hated the idea of running. Whoever was doing this wanted him scared—and he wouldn’t give the arsehole the satisfaction. He’d stay at the fire station. Surrounded by firefighters was the safest he could manage.
He swallowed the panic and kneaded the back of his neck. ‘Look, I’m grateful for the concern, but I’ll take my chances. Just catch who’s doing this.’
Ben’s face closed and he was Constable Fields again. ‘If you see anyone acting suspicious, call me.’
Toby nodded. He almost relented and asked for the letter, thinking that somehow it would offer him some safety, or at least some comfort. He’d sought solace in its simple and honest words many times over the years, remembering when there’d been hope and promise in their friendship, if not a relationship. But what good were a few words in blue ink now? He left Ben—and the letter—behind.
Once out the front of the lock-up and away from Ben, the reality of what had happened—and what could yet happen—crashed on top of him. He walked, but his legs didn’t move easily. The town’s attention on him, even when there was no one there, caught at his heels. He walked the streets to see his family, and a wave of pity, curiosity and wariness bore down on him.
But it paled against someone wanting him dead.
Dismissing the worst of his unease, he broke into a sprint, Ben’s larger-sized clothes dancing on him as he ran. He had his own at the station, but everything else had gone up with the house. He was going to have to buy a lot of new things.
And a new house.
Thank god the insurance was paid up.
His father, aunt and uncle were waiting for him. He listened to their outrage about the foolishness of the police, but he didn’t have it in him to stoke their anger. He was more concerned about who was after him. The thought dogged him as he excused himself and set a course for the station, despite assurances they’d given him the day off. He’d feel safer there, and his family would be safer too.
At least he’d not been responsible for anyone’s death this time.
Just the destruction of property.
Carl was at the station house and gave him the rundown of the investigation. He had no suspicions that Toby had anything to do with the fire, but he couldn’t find any identifying evidence of someone else.
‘A bloody amateur,’ Carl said.
But whoever it was had been professional—or lucky—enough not to leave behind any hard evidence. No fingerprints. No blood. Just a lot of fuel.
He leaned back in his chair. His hands smoothed through his curly hair then tightened into fists. He let go with a long breath and the four legs of the chair touched the floor. ‘I’m starting to think the fire at the cemetery has something to do with me, too. You’ve not seen anyone who looks like me around town?
‘Nah. Will tell the team to keep an eye out. We’ve got your back.’ Carl gave his shoulder a squeeze and a shake. ‘Police doing much? Apart from arresting the wrong bloke?’
‘Ben suggested I leave town.’
‘I bet he did. So you can’t sue for wrongful arrest.’
He shook his head. He’d already had enough of his family thinking the worst of Ben. ‘I think he’s worried.’
‘Good. If you need a place to stay, you’re welcome at mine. Plenty of room.’
‘Thanks, but I think I’ll sleep here until they catch this psycho.’ He didn’t want to endanger anyone else more than necessary.
Carl stood and turned towards his desk. ‘I need to finish this report for the cops, but shout out if you need anything. Sorry about the house, mate.’
He still didn’t have a home and he still had a madman after him, but here, at this moment, he had help.
Chapter Eleven
‘Jared Matthew Fairfax. Released on parole three weeks ago,’ Leila read over Ben’s shoulder as he sat looking at the screen. ‘This your guy?’
Jared had served two years of a four-year drug charge handed down during a time when judges were going hard on dealers, even those on their first offence. The political winds had changed since and blown him back into Ben’s life. Jared stared out at him from his mugshot, the hard set to his jaw warring with the tension in his eyes.
‘Not my guy, but the guy, possibly.’
‘Pretty—in a drug-dealing, ruin-your-life kind of way. Hope he was good in bed.’
He tried not to think about it, but had to admit the sex had been good—when everything had been good.
‘And you never noticed the resemblance?’ she asked.
He leaned forward, looking for where Jared was meant to be now and which station he reported to. He was definitely not looking at what had been staring him in the face for two-and-a-half years.
‘Don’t ignore me, Strawberry.’ She nudged him before gesturing at the monitor. ‘The guy’s the spitting image of Toby. No wonder Bob got confused.’
‘Dark. Broody. That’s it,’ he said, rather weakly, as he picked up the phone to call Newmont police station. Post-release, he discovered, Jared had gone home to his mother in his hometown about two hours away from Echo Springs.
Leila waited while he spoke to an officer on the other end and told them the situation. They’d pick him up—if he was there—but Ben said he’d head out there anyway. He wanted to talk to Mrs Fairfax.
Details given, he jabbed the disconnect button, and flung the phone on the desk.
Leila relaunched her attack. ‘I bet if I put the two of them in a line-up, you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. Is he as short as Toby?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Five-foot-eight is not short.’ Yes, he knew how tall Toby was. It was a cop thing.
She cocked a brow. ‘Come on, they could be brothers.’
‘Will you give it a rest? If you’re going to be like this, you’re not coming to Newmont.’ He hunched forward and poured his focus into the screen in front of him. He wrote down the address, but he was certain he’d remember how to get there. Other memories of Jared were surfacing, why not this one?
‘Just a bit of fun, man.’ She popped him on the arm. ‘That’s why you dated Jared in the first place, isn’t it?’
Blood charged through his veins, and raised the heat beneath his skin. She was trying to make this easy for hi
m, but he didn’t deserve it. ‘This isn’t funny.’ His hands closed into fists to stop himself from shaking. ‘Because of me, Toby nearly died. Whatever Jared’s got in his head, he’s coming after me and he’s doing it through Toby.’
Leila leaned closer and bumped her head to his. ‘It’s okay, Ben. We’re going to catch him.’
His heart eased its hammering. His hands opened and he exhaled. She was on his side.
‘You talked to him about Toby then?’ she asked.
‘We got really close.’
Shame sluiced through his body, and concentrated low in his belly, dissolving time and distance to expose what an idiot he’d been. At the time Jared had helped dress a wound he hadn’t known was bleeding. The haze around their relationship had been strong enough that Ben didn’t see he was living with a drug-dealing arsehole. But then the evidence mounted and he’d been forced to act. How could he have been so blind? How had he allowed himself to become so compromised—professionally and personally? Jared tried to convince him it was a lie, but then, faced with too much proof, he said he’d wanted to keep Ben safe from it all.
Bile smeared the back of his throat and he swallowed to wash it down. ‘Obviously I regret that now.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. Be grateful you got out of it relatively unscathed.’
Unscathed was a stretch. His colleagues—he couldn’t say friends anymore—from his previous station might not have laid a hand on him but he’d suffered their distrust. That’s why he’d ended up back in Echo Springs. Now there was nowhere else to run.
He had to make this right.
He picked up the keys and Leila followed him out. He drove, heading south on the highway as Echo Springs quickly gave way to open plains and the broad clear sky. They were quiet until about half an hour down the road.
‘So, Jared gets out of jail, decides to pay you back by killing your old flame—ha! How poetic—and then what? Kills you too?’ Leila said.
Embers and Echoes Page 8
