by DJ Jamison
I shook my head. “Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe the fire was accidental. I just … she was acting weird, you know? And it’s kind of strange she was so connected to the former owners of the house but never said anything about it to me when she asked to see it.”
“See it?”
“We’re real estate agents.”
I filled him in on the details of Sherrilyn’s interest in the house and her failure to mention her personal connections to it.
“You and Reid were working together, huh? So, you’re his agent and his …”
“Handyman,” I said firmly. “Reid knew I was new to real estate, so I didn’t have a lot of clients yet. He offered to let me help with some of the work around the house for a few extra bucks.”
“And that’s the extent of your relationship?”
“With all due respect, Detective, I don’t even know the extent of our relationship, so I can hardly give you that answer.”
“Could be you’re the disgruntled man on the side. Reid wouldn’t leave his boyfriend, so you set the fire in a fit of passionate anger. That’d be a more likely motive.”
I met his steady gaze, trying not to show any fear. It sounded like a good story, but I didn’t set the fire and he was clearly fishing. Me telling him that Reid had another boyfriend — one who wasn’t present — probably only fueled that curiosity.
“Could be, but I didn’t set the fire. I’m not all that passionate. I’m just telling you what I saw, and why I found it suspicious. You’re the detective. Only you can decide what to do with it.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll check out this lead on the arson. If you have any other information you’d like to share …”
He handed me a card, and I slipped it into my pocket. Then I returned to Reid’s room, where I sat by his side while he slept. I planned to stay there until the moment he was ready to go home. But whether that home would be at Ivy Lane or thousands of miles away ate at my heart. I’d just found Reid. I didn’t want to lose him. But his job here was done, and Fields was never intended to be his permanent home. I didn’t imagine there was much need for a bodyguard/former marshal in Fields, Kansas.
I didn’t know what the future might hold. But until Reid left, I intended to soak up each moment as if it were our last. He was alive, and that meant everything. Even if he left, I’d know that he was somewhere in the world living his life, being the Reid that I had come to cherish.
That would have to be enough.
***
Reid
The scuff of foot against linoleum made me look up, a tease already on my lips. I’d sent Camden off to get a decent meal in him only minutes ago. But my good-natured scolding died before it was born.
It wasn’t Camden.
“Dunn?”
He walked to the bed with long, confident strides and shook my hand like we were meeting on the street and not in a hospital room. I appreciated that he didn’t treat me like I was fragile. I had enough of that from Camden, well-intentioned though it was. The man was fully in hover mode, part of the reason I’d insisted he leave and get some food. He was so busy taking care of me that he forgot to take care of himself. Not that he’d ever done a stellar job of that. I intended to take over as soon as I could get out of this damn bed, which really shouldn’t be long now. Fully rehabbing my arm would take longer — weeks, if not months, of physical therapy.
“Damn sorry it all went down this way,” Dunn said in his gruff voice. He was in his fifties and more gray peppered his hair than when I worked with him, but his face remained young and unlined.
“My own fault,” I said. “I never could seem to get through a case without bullets flying. Part of the reason they sent me on my way.”
Dunn shook his head. "Bullshit. You were a good marshal. And this one wasn’t on you. Huy pulled a fast one, but all our witnesses have the potential to screw us.”
It was strange hearing Huy’s real name after thinking of him as Lee for so long.
“He okay?”
“Delivered his testimony and relocated safely.”
“Funny timing. A few more days and we would have made it, huh?”
Dunn snorted as he grabbed the bedside chair and dragged it closer. It scraped loudly on the floor before he settled his considerably long frame into it. Dunn was tall and wiry, agile and fast as hell. His reflexes always put me to shame.
“If it weren’t for our own goddamned corruption you would have made it. The witness called his mother. Not ideal, but not always deadly. Unfortunately, the gang has their hooks in a high-ranking government official with oversight within the Marshals Service. We had to relo Huy’s mother and younger sister with him for their own safety.”
“Damn. You get the bastard?”
Dunn shook his head. “He beat it out of the country. Turns out he embezzled a good deal from the drug money seizures as well. We’ll extradite if we get the chance.”
“Fuck.”
“Just makes you all warm and fuzzy, don’t it? Bet you miss working with us.”
I started to laugh, then groaned in pain. “Not even a little.”
Dunn stood up and reached into a pocket. He pulled out a USB drive. “Got you something.”
“What is this?”
“I had to run a little interference with the local PD.”
“Sounds fun.”
He snorted. “Yeah. We both learned to share,” he said sarcastically. “This is a little thank you for getting shot on our watch. It’s a copy of the statement made by the woman who set your house on fire.”
“Don’t you mean suspected of setting the fire?”
He smiled. “Nah, she struck a plea deal. Watch the video and you’ll see.”
I looked down at the USB. “Still pulling strings, huh?”
“Oh, I got them all over the country. Just call me the puppet master.”
I quirked a smile. “Thanks.”
He tipped his head and made his way out. I looked at the USB and wondered if I should bother. Sherrilyn would be sentenced by the court. I would recover, and Camden was alive and mine to hold. Did it really matter why she went crazy and tried to burn down the house?
Maybe not, but the law enforcement officer in me wanted to know her motivations. When Camden returned, I sent him back out to track down a laptop.
***
Reid
The USB drive held just a fragment of Sherrilyn’s police interview. Dunn told me it picked up after she’d taken a plea bargain and agreed to make a formal statement.
Unlike when Camden saw her at the house before the fire, Sherrilyn was carefully put together. She wore her standard dress suit in a rich shade of plum. Her curls were piled up in her usual hairstyle. But her makeup was a wreck, giving away that she’d shed more than a few tears before this moment.
“Did you set a fire at 126 E Ivy Lane on Aug. 3, 2017?” Detective Green asked.
Sherrilyn sat at a plain metal table, with someone by her side who I guessed might be her attorney. Across the table, Detective Drew Green handled the questioning. At his side, mostly silent, was fire marshal Don Stewart. I only knew that because I’d spoken to him once since the fire took place.
“Yes,” Sherrilyn answered.
“You set this fire intentionally?”
Her lips tightened. She turned and conferred quietly with her lawyer.
“Yes.”
“Sherrilyn, we’d like you to make a statement about your actions and why you took them.” Detective Green motioned to the fire marshal at his side. “As you know, we have an eyewitness account that places you at the home, evidence that proves this was arson, and accusations that the fire isn’t the only crime you committed at the property. Don will record your statement, then you’ll sign it. This is part of your plea deal. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so tell us what happened leading up to the day you set the fire at the house at 126 E Ivy Lane.”
Sherrilyn spoke haltingly, pausing often a
nd dabbing at her leaking eyes. She was obviously hurting.
“I expected to receive the house when Robert died. He’d promised me,” she said, voice cracking. “I was Aaron’s widow, and Robert swore he’d pass on Aaron’s inheritance to me. And why wouldn’t he? He shut everyone else out of his life. He didn’t even know Reid Bishop. I still can’t understand why I didn’t get the house. I needed that house! I needed what was inside it. It was mine!”
Sherrilyn’s held the table so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her breathing accelerated, and a sob broke free.
“I know this is hard,” Detective Green said sympathetically. “Do you need a minute?”
Sherrilyn took her head. “No, no. I’m okay. I want to get this over with.”
“Okay, so you said you needed the house and what was inside it. Was there something inside you needed?”
Sherrilyn took a deep breath before continuing in a calmer voice. “The house wouldn’t be worth a whole lot in the condition Robert left it. I’m a real estate agent, so I knew what to expect. But Robert was eccentric. He didn’t believe in banking, and he invested in collectors’ items instead of stocks. He had stamps, coins and other items worth money. He’d also saved all his wife’s jewelry, which included some pretty unique pieces. Some of it he stuffed in nooks and crannies in the house. Some he even buried out in the backyard. The only reason he didn’t bury his cash in jars is that Aaron insisted. He bought a safe for his dad and told him it was thief-proof and fireproof.”
“So, you hoped to acquire not just the real estate, but the collectors’ items that might be worth money?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you need the money?”
She looked down, her voice lowering to a volume that was difficult to understand. “My husband is under investigation for embezzling.”
“And part of that investigation resulted in freezing your assets, didn’t it?”
She nodded.
“We need you to speak your answers.”
“Yes, I’m broke. My house is in foreclosure. My car has been repossessed because I can’t make the payments. I needed Ivy Lane and what was inside it, and I shouldn’t have had to resort to desperate measures like trying to break in. That house should be mine.”
“But it’s not yours, is it?”
“No,” she said between gritted teeth. “But there’s a second will somewhere. I know it. That’s why I pestered the law firm, but they wouldn’t tell me anything. I searched Camden’s office just in case he might have something useful in his files, but there was nothing. I tried so hard to find the proof that the house was mine. I’m sure Reid’s destroyed the will by now, and he’s going to get away with stealing my house, while I’m punished. It’s not fair.”
“Did you ever try to get inside the house? Maybe just find one of those treasures you mentioned and your problems would be solved?”
“Don’t answer that,” her lawyer advised.
But Sherrilyn wasn’t in a place to be rational. Bright red rose in her cheeks, and her hands curled into fists. “Kind of hard to do that when someone’s always at the house,” she spat. “Reid was working on renovations all hours of the day, and even when he was gone, Camden was often there. I don’t even want to think about what they were getting up to in Robert’s house. I only got inside once, and I barely had time to look through a few papers in the office before I heard a car in the drive. I had to rush out the back. The next time I had an opening, the locks had been reinforced, and I had no chance of getting inside.”
“As a real estate agent, couldn’t you access the house if it was for sale?”
“It wasn’t officially on the market yet, so there were no lockbox or keys available,” she said bitterly.
Well, that explained the break-in.
“So, why set the fire then, Sherrilyn? How was that going to help you?”
“It wasn’t. Nothing was. My husband is going to prison. I’ve lost all my assets. And my broker asked me to take a leave of absence so I didn’t bring a bad reputation to her company. It was just all too much! Why should Reid Bishop get the house while I lost everything?” Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. “Robert promised me that inheritance. He lied, and it wasn’t fair. I’m the one who loved Aaron. Who grieved with Robert. Who took care of him when he was unable to function. And this is the thanks I get? Well fuck them. Fuck them all!”
She devolved into ranting and the video cut off. We’d seen enough anyhow. It was easier to see how her emotional state had led her to escalate from breaking and entering to arson. But seeing it didn’t make me feel any better.
“Wow,” Camden said. “We kind of thought of her as the crazy lady in real estate circles, but we weren’t serious.”
I sighed. “She’s not really crazy. Sherrilyn had money troubles, she got desperate and then she got angry. Setting fire to the house wasn’t so much about the house as it was expressing her frustration with Robert Winters. In many ways, it was a crime of passion.”
Camden looked skeptical. “If you say so.”
“I know it seems crazy, but she had a lot of emotional investment in this place. Aaron died, and this house was the last tangible tie to him. She expected some sort of payment for her suffering and it didn’t materialize.”
“Or maybe she just wanted the money she’d get from it,” Camden said. “Digging up the yard looking for treasure is hardly the act of a sentimental woman.”
“Maybe,” I acknowledged.
Emotional turmoil and desperation rarely mixed well. I almost felt sorry for Sherrilyn, but mostly, I just didn’t care that much. I was more interested in the man beside me.
“Hey,” Camden said suddenly. “She never said anything about my apartment, did she?”
We replayed the video to be sure, but Camden’s apartment never was mentioned.
“Do you think she’s just not mentioning it or do you think ...”
“Do I think that Austin did it, as I’ve suggested all along? Yeah, Camden, I do.”
Chapter 25
Camden
Reid remained in the hospital for a shockingly short amount of time. After being shot twice, losing blood and having surgery to pin together his shattered bone, he was released just three days later. He didn’t make the best patient, so maybe they were eager to send him on his way. I’d taken the after-care instructions, determined to make sure the idiot didn’t get an infection, and pretended to let Reid talk me into staying with him at his hotel. As if I’d let him go off on his own when his head was still addled with pain pills and the man obviously didn’t have the best sense of self-preservation when it came to his own body.
One week exactly after the shoot-out at Ivy Lane, we returned to the house. Reid persuaded me that we needed to assess the condition of the home. I was reluctant, but when he suggested he could go on his own if it were too traumatic for me, I pulled on my big boy pants. I wasn’t going to let him go there alone.
“Insurance will cover a lot of the damage,” I said as we sat in Julius and stared at the house. It looked deceptively normal from the front, with all the fire damage taking place on the backside. “You could just hire a contractor to fix the house, put it on the market and never go inside again.”
“I don’t want that,” he said. “I’m not going to let what happened have that kind of power over me.” He reached over and squeezed my thigh. “I know you might feel differently. I think it would do you good to go inside too. It’s just a place. I might have been shot here, but it’s also the place I kissed you the first time.”
I smiled. “Right before you bent me over a table. So romantic.”
He laughed. “Hey, I’ll treasure that memory. You were so sexy.”
With the strength of his laughter and good memories, I opened the door and we went inside. My heart beat fast as we walked through the living room. Reid, ever on high-alert, went ahead of me and looked around.
“They wouldn’t send someone else, would they?” I asked, a shiver skitte
ring up my spine.
I’d entered the house much like this the day I’d been held at gunpoint. I’d clomped through the living room, excited to have my first sale under way and optimistic for the first time that I would dig myself out of my hole. I headed for the kitchen, where I knew most of the fire damage took place.
Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed hard. I tried to pull away, and a gun barrel pressed into my temple. I don’t know how I knew what it was, but I instinctively did. I froze, paralyzed with fear.
They asked me questions. Where is Huy? Huy live here?
I didn’t know any Huy. I told them, but they didn’t believe me. They asked me over and over, shaking me a little, and conversing in Vietnamese with each other.
I’m convinced that if Reid hadn’t shown up when he did, they would have shot me for being useless to them. They would have killed me and staked out the place until Huy did appear. Then he’d be dead too. Maybe Reid, as well.
Warmth kissed my back. Reid’s lips brushed the nape of my neck. “Hey, you’re okay.”
I took a deep breath. “Yeah.”
The house was empty, and Reid and I were alive.
We toured the fire damage: the kitchen was a total loss, as was the back porch. The hallway and office had smoke and water damage. The second floor was closer to normal, but the fire had climbed up the back wall to damage the guest bedroom, too.
As an afterthought, we went into the basement. It had escaped any damage, thankfully. In one corner sat a safe we’d found when we were clearing the house of junk.
“We should call a locksmith to crack that,” I said.
He nodded distractedly. “Yeah. Unless …”
He went over and crouched in front of it. As I watched, he spun the dial, putting in a combination. “I’m trying Aaron’s birthdate. If Robert loved his son so much he couldn’t function when he died, maybe …”
