chuckled, and Trey envisioned him scrubbing a hand alongside his neatly clipped beard, facial hair he’d grown in recent months in hopes of looking more mature.
“So, the girls behaving themselves this morning?”
“Still in bed.” Trey raked a hand through his sleep-matted hair. “Hey, while I have you on the line—I was wondering if you remember the name of a guy who was in your graduating class. The one with the big ears and funny laugh. Couldn’t even wait to get off school property before he’d pull out a cigarette and light up. Was always wanting to borrow my lighter.”
“Pete. Pete Burlene.” Jason paused for a moment. “Why? You think he’s the one?”
“Grasping at straws is more like it.”
“You know, Trey—” His younger brother let out a huff of air, then continued in his best pastoral tone that for some reason always irritated Trey. Even after four years in ministry in Canyon Springs, it remained a stretch for Jason to sound older and wiser than his twenty-eight years. “You have to ask yourself, bro, is it worth it? Worth getting tied up in knots trying to uncover the real culprit’s identity?”
“Look, Jason—”
“If this is what it’s going to do to you, maybe settling back in Canyon Springs isn’t the best move after all.” He lowered his voice. “In spite of what my wife thinks.”
Trey’s jaw tightened. Jason still didn’t get it. “I don’t think there’s any harm in trying to clear my name.”
“But look what it’s doing to you. And you’re no closer to finding out who left your lighter at the scene of that fire than when you first hit town. Face it. It’s been twelve years.”
“Every man needs a hobby.”
Jason scoffed.
“Look, Jas, injury cost me my livelihood. Then my new job brings me back here. You’re the one who’s always saying there’s no such thing as coincidence. Doesn’t it sound to you like God’s providing an opportunity for resolution? Justice?”
“’Fraid I can’t speak for the Man Upstairs on this one, dude.”
What he meant was he thought his big brother was chasing after something better left alone. Well, he could think whatever he wanted. He wasn’t the one locals looked at with suspicion. Nobody questioned his honesty. His integrity. They didn’t whisper behind his back.
“It’s a shame,” Jason continued, “that you were such a loner—and that our folks had taken me to Phoenix to catch a plane for that spring break mission trip. You didn’t have anyone to confirm you were nowhere near Duffy’s place when the property caught fire.”
Trey’s lips tightened. It didn’t do you any good to have a rock-solid alibi if your star witness refused to come forward.
“Well, Jas, I’ll let you get back to your retreat. I have to pick up my toys, then hit the shower before the girls wake up.” He glanced around at the cabin strewn with kid stuff. A diaper bag toppled on its side. Stuffed animals and dolls in various stages of dress piled on the sofa. Pint-size shoes and socks under the coffee table. Yesterday’s dishes still in the sink. How’d it get to be such a disaster in only three days?
Jason barked a laugh. “Why do I have a feeling the girls will have lots to tell us when we get home?”
Trey groaned. “Yeah, well, just remember you owe me one.”
“You got it, buddy.”
“Take it easy coming up the mountain. Snowing.”
“Will do.”
Trey shut off the phone and again stared out the window at the swirling, wind-whipped flakes, making no move to wrestle his surroundings to order.
He shook his head as memories he’d fought all night resurfaced. Kara Lee Dixon. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d been as surprised to see him last night as he’d been to see her. Maybe more so. Hadn’t she known he was back in town? Not from the look on her face. The fear in her expressive eyes.
What did she think he’d do after all these years? Chew her out on a public street? Make a spectacle of himself in front of the girls? Call the cops? No, he’d long ago forgiven her.
He hadn’t handled their reunion well. Caught off guard, he’d been every bit as tongue-tied around her as he’d ever been as a teen. Practically threw Missy in the truck, then climbed in and hit the gas. That must have impressed the former girl of his dreams.
But like it or not, he and Kara needed to have a little chat.
Chapter Three
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you went out with Trey Kenton last fall.” Kara looked up from where she knelt mopping a front corner of the Warehouse floor and leveled a disbelieving stare at her old college roommate.
Meg McGuire, soon to be Mrs. Joseph Diaz, had stopped by mid-afternoon Saturday to collect a trunk full of flattened cardboard boxes. Now here she stood, handing Kara another old bath towel and delivering the dismaying confirmation that Trey was indeed considering moving back to town. He was heading up a renovation of Duffy Logan’s old horse facility, a property that had closed and fallen into disrepair almost a decade ago when Duffy suffered a debilitating stroke and his wife moved him out of town for better medical care. But why would Trey come back here of all places? Right smack-dab on top of the scene of the crime that drove him from town as a teenager?
“How would I know you had any connection to Trey?” Meg’s eyes narrowed with interest beneath the fluffy bangs of her short, brunette hair. “When your name came up one time, I couldn’t tell if he even remembered you.”
Oh, he remembered her all right.
“He definitely recalled that old car of yours,” Meg continued with a teasing tone.
Kara’s memory flashed to the infamous ’63 Mustang. The sporty, cream-colored car her daddy had lovingly restored and left behind when he took off for new adventures. He’d had the gall to transfer the registration to her as a sweet sixteen birthday gift. It still sat in the garage behind her mother’s house.
“I sense a story here.” Meg’s eyes sparkled with a speculative gleam. “Were you and Trey sweeties? Hmm?”
Warmth crept into Kara’s cheeks as she wiped the wooden floor with a fresh towel, then got to her feet. She’d told her mom about the leak last spring, yet the trickle again coursed down the wall from ceiling to floor. From the looks of the warped plaster and paint discoloration above, the summer monsoon season had added to the damage. Now the snow. So much for the expertise of repairmen.
“Trey and I were friends. Sort of.” How could she explain the mixed-up adolescent relationship she didn’t even understand herself?
“Friends, huh? Your mom mentioned you had a crush on my Joe once upon a time, but she never mentioned Trey.”
Kara laughed. “Mom talks too much.”
She crossed the rustic, wood-beamed room to spread soppy bath towels on the bricked portion of the floor in front of the woodstove. “Joe was my crush of the moment in middle school—when I found out his mom walked out on him like my dad did me. Besides, there wasn’t anything to mention about Trey—except Mom didn’t like him.”
She lifted an insulated carafe from its perch next to the coffeemaker and poured a mug of spiced cider for Meg. She’d kept her more-than-friends feelings for Trey a secret from the world those many years ago. Seemed strange to be openly teased about him now. And why did her heart tap-dance at the mere mention of his name, just like it had at sixteen?
“She didn’t like him because of the cowboy connection? Because of your dad?” Meg cupped the mug in her hands and inhaled the fragrant brew. “Or because, you know, of that other thing?”
Kara stiffened, the carafe