by Lyn Cote
Wouldn’t that question set tongues wagging? Evidently, no one had noticed yet that if he’d been at home, he’d have come out with everyone else. From last night, she recalled Chad’s angry face and voice. Had she meddled and caused this? Pushed Chad to act out? Oh, no. Please, no. Don’t let this be arson.
“I grabbed my phone and dialed 911.” Florence went on with her commentary. Neighbors drew closer to hear her over the grinding sound of the fire engine’s motor and the shouts of the volunteer firefighters and the hissing of water on fire. “When I didn’t see any lights going on at your place, I called you.”
“Thank you, Florence. Thank you,” Shirley said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t hear the glass break, and our kitchen smoke alarm didn’t go off until I’d already answered your call. You gave us extra minutes...” Shirley faltered then and began choking back tears.
“Mama,” Evie said, reaching out for Audra.
Tom relinquished Evie to Audra and then gathered Shirley under one arm. Audra prayed, Please don’t let anyone notice that Chad isn’t here.
“Where’s that boy you took in?” Florence asked suddenly, looking around. “Doyle Keski’s kid?”
“Chad wasn’t inside,” Tom said and pressed his lips closed.
“Not inside?” Florence repeated. “Where is he then? Shirley, I warned you to be careful. I know you always take in strays, but that boy’s trouble. He’s set fires in the past—”
“I don’t think we should jump to any conclusions,” Audra spoke up, hot guilt simmering in her stomach. “Not until the fire chief and sheriff look into this. Chad’s been doing better since Shirley took him in.”
But in a flash, she saw that she was as bad as Florence. She’d immediately accused Chad herself. Just because Chad had run away last night didn’t mean he had anything to do with this fire.
Florence humphed and muttered something that sounded like “bad blood.”
Its siren blaring, the sheriff’s car roared up the street and lurched to a stop near the knot of people huddled together in front of Shirley’s house. Its red and blue lights flashed and flickered over their houses and faces. Carter got out. “Tom!”
“I’m fine, Carter.” Tom waved to his stepson. “We’re all fine. Florence took quick action and we all got out safe.”
“The dispatcher woke me. I came as soon as I could.” Carter came closer. “Everyone’s okay—Shirley, Audra, Evie, Chad?”
Audra heard the concern in his voice, concern for all of them. Had she done more harm than good with Chad? But she couldn’t say that now. It would only mistakenly add to everyone’s suspicion about Chad. She blocked the urge to draw closer to Carter. Was it just that in his sheriff’s uniform he looked equal to any challenge? Or something more personal? Warmth went through her.
“Doyle Keski’s kid isn’t here where he ought to be,” Florence piped up. “I hope you’re not going to tell us he didn’t have anything to do with this. I’ve heard him snap back at Shirley—”
“Mrs. LeVesque, I’ll be making a thorough investigation.”
“Florence, please,” Shirley urged, “let’s give Chad a chance. We don’t know he had anything to do with this. Please.”
CARTER STUDIED THE predawn gray sky, illuminated by the lights of the fire engine and his Jeep. The flames leaping above the roof in the rear blinked out, though dark smoke still billowed and rolled high. Adrenaline pumped through him, just as it had yesterday morning. Two fires in a row and on Memorial Day weekend of all times.
“Looks like they’re getting this under control fast. Maybe there won’t be too much damage.” Carter hoped so. In the low light, his eyes sought out Audra’s ivory face. When he met her eyes they were anxious again.
Audra gave him a strained smile.
He wished he could reassure her that he could handle this, that she shouldn’t be concerned. But too many eyes watched them.
“This is the second fire in two days,” Florence announced, undeterred by his cautions. “What’s going on, Sheriff? We can’t have stuff like this happening right at the start of tourist season.”
Florence’s reaction was exactly what he’d dreaded. Doubt clawed him. Maybe Chad, the most likely suspect, was the fire-setter. But he’d still need evidence. “I’m investigating the first fire, and I’ll thoroughly investigate this one.” He hoped these official words would carry weight with Florence LeVesque, but he doubted it.
“Well, I told you. You don’t have far to look for a suspect.” Florence’s words dripped with vinegar.
“There was no evidence to link the fire in back of Ollie’s to Chad.” Carter gave Florence a stern look, but he stopped himself from glancing around once more looking for the boy.
Audra stepped forward with a welcome interruption. “It looks like they’ve put it out.”
Carter sent her a glance of thanks.
The fire chief strode around the side of the house and approached the sheriff. “A few of the guys are checking to make sure it’s completely out. But it looks like Shirley will only have to replace her back porch. We got here in time and it didn’t spread inside the house proper. Shirley, it’s good you had a stout door between the back porch and the kitchen and that it was shut tight. You’ll be replacing it, but it kept the fire out.”
“Thank you,” Shirley breathed.
Then Carter saw Audra sag. He reached out and gripped her arms. “Okay?”
“It’s just the relief,” she murmured and pulled away.
But not before Carter felt a shiver go through her. He hoped it was due to the early-morning chill, not anything he’d done. With his question yesterday morning he’d inadvertently drawn her into his investigation.
“Good work, Florence.” The fire chief nodded to the older woman. “I hear you’re the one who called in this fire.”
“I heard glass breaking,” Florence said with a nod. “My eyes aren’t worth much anymore, but I can still hear as good as ever.”
“Glad to hear it,” Carter said, wishing he were as confident as he was trying to sound. He motioned for the fire chief to accompany him to view the remains of the fire. The crowd moved forward with them—except for Audra with her little girl in her arms.
Carter stopped everyone with a raised hand. “Since this looks like it might be a suspicious fire, I need everyone to stay away from the scene until my deputies and I are finished investigating.” He turned slowly and looked directly into each person’s face.
“Can I...” Shirley asked with the lift of a hand, “see how...bad it is?”
Carter replied, “You can look at it from the alley. But you won’t be able to enter the fire areas until our investigation is complete. The rest of you can go on home. It’s a little chilly to be standing around in robes and slippers, isn’t it?”
“Sheriff, may I go inside?” Audra asked, sounding timid. “I need to get dressed and leave for work soon.”
Carter turned to the fire chief who replied, “Sure. Just don’t come near the back entrance.”
“No problem.” With Evie in hand, Audra walked past Carter toward Shirley’s sidewalk.
Carter reached out and patted Evie’s shoulder as Audra passed by him. He wished he could show some concern for Audra, but there were still too many witnesses and too many gossips hovering nearby.
“Sheriff,” Evie called as Audra shepherded her toward the house, “don’t let anybody burn Nana Shirley’s house down!”
“I won’t, Evie.” Carter watched Audra disappear into Shirley’s house and then he led the fire chief, Tom, and Shirley toward the fire scene. Where was Chad Keski? Carter still hoped that Chad’s absence could be easily explained. But he doubted it. And Audra’s troubled eyes would haunt him the rest of the day.
AROUND EIGHT O’CLOCK that morning behind his desk, Carter folded his hand around the warm mug of office-brewed coffee, remembering wistfully the good brew and brioche from Audra yesterday morning. No such comfort today. He, Tom, and Chad sat in Carter’s small office. His do
or was closed. A tape recorder sat on his desk between them. It was 8:37 a.m. on Saturday morning, and Carter was trying to think how to finesse the information he wanted from Chad.
Across from Carter, the fourteen-year-old sat with an odd combination of body language. Above the waist, with his chin down and his arms folded in a tight bundle, he was protecting himself. But below the waist, his legs were sprawled apart in an attitude of disdain. Tom sat beside him, looking concerned, almost bleak. He’d brought Chad in just a few minutes ago.
A heavy feeling of inevitability had settled over Carter and was seeping deeper inside him. He spoke toward the recorder mic, giving the time, date, and full names of those present. “Okay, Chad, do you understand that I am recording our interview?”
The kid shrugged.
“Please answer audibly,” Carter said in his no-emotion investigator’s voice.
“Yeah, I know you’re recording this,” Chad said in a mocking tone. “Like I care.”
“Cooperate, Chad,” Tom urged quietly. “Please.”
Carter ignored the kid’s sarcasm. “Okay, let me get this straight. When Tom opened his repair shop this morning where you work, he found you sleeping in a customer’s car inside the shop?”
“Yeah.”
Though Tom’s garage was only a block away from Shirley’s, Carter didn’t ask Chad why the fire siren hadn’t awakened him. Kids and teens could deep-sleep through such things. “And you ran away from Shirley’s last night after you eavesdropped on a conversation between Audra—”
“Why didn’t you just bring me in for questioning yesterday?” Chad interrupted. “Why talk to Audra about me?”
“I was trying to keep from casting suspicion on you,” Carter answered with honesty, hoping that would alter Chad’s bad attitude.
“Yeah, right,” Chad sneered. “If there’s a fire, everybody in town will peg me for it. You think you can change that? You can’t. I can’t. I’m not even going to try.”
In Chad’s belligerent voice, Carter heard the echo of his own younger voice. How many conversations like this had he had with now-retired Amos Todd, who’d been sheriff when Carter had been Chad’s age? I’m just trying to help you, kid. Help me out here.
Carter took a deep breath. “That’s exactly why I asked Audra where you were when the fire at Ollie’s was set. Neither of us wanted people jumping to a wrong conclusion.”
Carter let this sink in or at least hoped it did, and then went on. “Now, do you have an alibi for your whereabouts yesterday very early in the morning and today near the same hour?”
“No. Do you?”
Carter pursed his lips and held on to his temper. Chad was a box of tinder ready to go up in flames. Carter didn’t want to strike the match. “Tom, do you keep gasoline in your repair garage?”
“Some. I need it for the lawn mower I keep to do Shirley’s yard and for my boat’s Evinrude. Why?”
Carter didn’t want to give out the pitiful bits of cursory evidence he’d gathered at the second fire. But the smell of gasoline at today’s scene had been unmistakable.
There was a sudden commotion outside Carter’s office. His deputy on duty, Trish Franklin, raised her voice. “You can’t go in there!”
The door burst open. Doyle Keski stormed in. “You got my kid in here! I gotta right to come in!” An older, scruffier version of Chad shook off Trish’s hand and glared at Carter. “What’re you charging my kid with?”
Carter kept an eye on Doyle and Chad. Chad’s demeanor had changed. He’d pulled in completely and glanced around as if gauging whether he could escape or not. The urge to confront Keski about this evidence of abuse surged through Carter like the storms of November. “Mr. Keski,” Carter said evenly, “I’ve not charged your son with anything.”
“Then what the heck have you got him here for?” Doyle demanded. The stale odors of too many cigarettes and too little soap filled the room.
“I’m merely establishing his whereabouts at the crucial times. It’s too soon to link anyone to the fire. The investigation of the crime scene isn’t complete.” Carter turned to Chad. “So Chad, you were telling me your whereabouts for the last two nights—sunset to dawn.”
As if hunted, Chad looked out from under too-long bangs. “Thursday night, I was just sleeping in my room and then last night at Tom’s garage. I was just sleeping, man.”
Carter heard Chad’s sudden turnaround. Chad didn’t want to give his father—guilty of neglect and physical abuse—anything to get involved in. Chad didn’t like the sheriff, but he feared his father. And hated him. And loved him. A large rock pressed down on Carter’s lungs. How he remembered aching with the same emotions.
Carter reached over, his hand poised above the Off button. “I think that takes care of matters then, Chad. Thanks for your cooperation. Tom, thank you for bringing Chad over so we could clear this up.” He clicked off the tape recorder.
Chad’s eyes opened wide. He hadn’t expected Carter to be an ally. And maybe that would be good for him—give the kid something to think about. Carter could only hope. He stood and shook hands with Tom and Chad. He looked pointedly at Doyle, who blocked the exit. “Is there anything else, Mr. Keski?”
Robbed of a chance to show his disdain for the law and how much he “cared” for his son, Doyle stomped out.
Carter watched him go and wondered if Doyle had another reason for coming. Did he want to know what was going on because he had something to hide?
Doyle had a grudge against Shirley and Tom. Shirley because she’d taken Chad as a foster child. Tom because he had reported witnessing Doyle abuse Chad and had hired Chad to work at his repair shop. Doyle probably missed having Chad to kick around. Had Doyle, not Chad, set fire to Shirley’s back steps? But why would he set fire to Ollie’s dumpster? Carter would look into that.
ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER dollar. In spite of its early chill, Saturday morning was proving to be balmy, perfect for the tourists. Standing behind the counter at her café, Audra blinked her sleepy eyes and then widened them while trying not to yawn. The early-morning fire had robbed her of over an hour of sleep—an hour of sleep she’d been in dire need of. Plus the sense of causing more harm than good nagged her, lowering her spirits as well.
It was all about Chad, the fires, and the sheriff. Sometime today she’d have to face Carter and confess that her ill-timed question might have triggered Chad to set fire to Shirley’s porch. This morning Florence had voiced suspicions about Chad, just exactly what the sheriff had wanted to avoid by discreetly asking Audra about Chad’s whereabouts. Would the sheriff have any idea how to undo any mischief she’d done last night when Chad had been eavesdropping?
She heard voices coming near and footsteps on the flagstone path. She looked up and smiled, ready for business. “Good morning.” She greeted four guys, obviously fresh out of college for the summer. Squinting into the daylight glinting from Lake Superior on the horizon, she drew in a deep breath of cool morning air to keep her eyes open.
Her sister sauntered in through the front gate. Megan appeared carefree and unfazed by life. Envious, Audra couldn’t even remember how that felt. Perched on a stool by the gate, Evie had been waiting for her aunt. Megan greeted Evie with a big hug and Evie’s responding smile blazed with a five-hundred-watt intensity. Again, Audra appreciated Megan’s help and the attention she lavished on Evie.
“Wow, this place smells good,” one of the college guys said. “How about a tall black coffee and three of those things?” He pointed to the glass case in front of her, filled with golden brioche, raspberry Danish, and dark sweet croissants.
“The chocolate-frosted, sour cream croissants?” She smiled.
“Yeah, maybe I should get four.” He grinned.
She chuckled. “If you don’t eat them all at once, they’d make a great midmorning snack.” She grinned as she mentally calculated the rising bill.
With a wave, Megan walked around the counter behind Audra and headed toward the kitchen. When she came b
ack, she was tying her apron strings behind her back. “Morning,” she said, pausing beside Audra.
“Same to you,” Audra said, handing the guy his bag and taking his payment. She smiled and he walked away.
“Aren’t you going to tell me I shouldn’t have come?” Megan taunted with a mischievous grin.
Audra just shook her head.
“I called Mom last night and told her I had a job here,” Megan said.
“What did she say?” Would their mother think that Audra was trying to make Megan take sides in their cool, silent, and painful standoff?
“Nothing.” As if guessing what Audra was thinking, Megan chuckled and walked around the counter out into the sunlight to start working.
A young couple stepped up to Audra’s counter. They ordered lattes, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and brioches and paid over twenty dollars for their continental breakfast. As Audra ran the couple’s credit card through the machine, Brent slouched in through the front gate. Why was he here so early? Audra nodded at Brent as she gave the customer their receipt to sign.
Brent edged around the counter. “Hi, Audra.”
“Hi, Brent.” Audra thanked the customer and gave him his copy of the receipt. “You’re here early.”
Brent leaned close. “Dad was really steamed at you last night.” Her cousin sounded pleased. “I enjoyed my dad being mad at someone else for a change. Thanks.”
At that moment, Chad walked through her gate.
Audra cringed. Another scene in front of customers—please no.
Brent and Chad spotted each other almost simultaneously. Chad’s walk turned into a swagger. “Hey, jerk,” he greeted Brent at the counter.
“Hey, dipwad,” Brent responded.
“That’s enough out of both of you,” Audra snapped.
Ignoring her reprimand, Brent smirked. “Someone called my dad to say you already been to the sheriff’s office this morning for setting fire to your foster mother’s house.”
