enough so that my voice would sound normal.
He shrugged. “Did I grab you? Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” He glanced at me, apologetically.
I weighed my response. His apology seemed genuine enough. He was doing his seesaw routine again. Remembering my silent pledge to be a team player I decided to accept it. “Do it again, and I will bust your lip.”
He laughed. I hated the strange relief I felt that he got my joke. Yet maybe I didn’t want him to take it that way. I really could bust his lip. He had no right to bar my way like that.
“Why are you so sure Rex firebombed the Jordan place?”
“If he didn’t do it himself, he got somebody else to do it.” Will stretched one of his legs as best he could in the confined space.
“Maybe David did it knowing Rex would get the blame.”
Will laughed. “That is nuts.” He glanced at me. “You’re joking, right?”
“It’s so funny I forgot to laugh.”
“People are beginning to trust David and confide in him. Rex has an illegal empire to protect. He’s got to drive David out.”
The sun shone directly overhead as we pulled into the Jordans’ former laneway. The auxiliaries who’d guarded the scene all night waved to us as they drove away. Inside the blackened shell charred beams lay at crazy angles. I scanned the area, wondering where this nephew of Rex’s might have laid rabbit snares. The scrubby woods were thick with underbrush. Maybe Rex was telling the truth about an eyewitness.
Will opened the trunk and took out the case containing the forensic gear. As we began to put on protective oilskins and rubber boots the IDENT arson specialist Charlie Delaney arrived in an unmarked police car. A thin hollow-cheeked man in his early fifties, Charlie’s thick white hair had a yellowish tint.
Will passed me a handful of plastic bags. “Linda, you catalogue what we find.”
I rolled my eyes. Team player, remember? Team player.
Some of the beams were still hot. No wonder we had to wait twenty-four hours before doing this part of the investigation. We slogged through about three inches of sooty water. Charlie recorded his observations on a tiny voice recorder he kept in his breast pocket. We found some green melted glass that could have belonged to the kerosene-filled wine bottle. The heat had exploded all the living room windows outward from the heat, except one, broken from the outside.
Mid-afternoon we called it quits. On the way back to Sterling Will and I observed a couple of vehicles parked outside David Jordan’s church, so I turned into the small unpaved parking lot.
Inside, light glowed around bare bulbs suspended from the open rafters. Worn maroon linoleum covered the floor. David Jordan sat on a chair, reading from a picture book to seven children sitting at his feet. They ranged in age from about five to ten. My stomach curdled. Me. Sitting on a plywood chair, gazing at Ron playing his guitar. I dug my fingernails into my palms to block the memory. David nodded toward us and then continued reading. A wooden door at the side of the room opened slightly, then closed. Who’s in there?
A little blonde girl wearing pink sweats stood apart from the group, leaning against a post. The simpering seductive look on her face jarred me. Is she another one of David’s victims? I clamped my jaws together and took a deep breath through my nose, afraid my rage was obvious. The poor little kid.
Will grabbed a plastic chair from the stack while I lifted up a rubber boot by the door and checked the sole pattern. These boots could have made the footprints Will found at the fire. My eyes were drawn to David’s socked feet as one of the little boys climbed into his lap. I was clenching my teeth so hard I could have cracked one of my molars.
Margaret Roach entered through the side door carrying a pitcher and some paper cups. Someone quickly closed the door behind her. Was someone hiding back there? Margaret gave me a thin-lipped smile, though her magnified eyes were wary. She set the pitcher down on a corner table next to a box of soda crackers and a jar of cheese spread. At least Margaret provided some supervision for this monster. Or was she an accomplice?
A few times I caught David inspecting me. What is he staring at? He radiated charm. The kids seemed to adore him, though that didn’t help them behave any better. Will plunked onto one of the plastic chairs and stretched his legs out.
The little girl in the pink sweats sidled up to Will, climbed on his lap, and flung her arms around his neck, her amber eyes gleaming like a cat’s. Will gently tried to peel her off. She clung to him, giving him a seductive stare through half-closed eyes. She sure fit the profile of a sexual abuse victim with her inappropriate friendliness, sexual precociousness, and lack of boundaries. Seeing Will’s discomfort I lifted her away from him. She kicked and spat at me. When I put her down she scampered right back to Will who stood to keep her off his lap.
David closed the picture book. “Okay, kids. Time for your snack.”
The children rushed over as if they hadn’t eaten all day. David ambled up beside the girl in the pink sweats. He squatted so he was at eye level with her. “Becky.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.
Becky recoiled from his hand as if it were a red-hot iron. She hissed and growled like an animal. The hair rose on the back of my neck. Suddenly, the little girl before us looked more like an evil gnome.
David appeared completely unfazed. The loving expression on his face made his ex-wife’s testimony blink in my brain like a flashing light – this man had abused his own daughter. “Don’t be frightened, Becky,” he said.
Becky whirled around and ran toward the other children. She snatched a paper cup from the table and gulped down the juice. Then she grabbed a handful of crackers and ran off to a dark corner. That girl belongs in a mental hospital.
David rose slowly, as if he had trouble unwinding from his squat. He and Will chit-chatted about the investigation. Satisfied Will wasn’t going to be giving away any evidence, I left to take a look around the building.
I wove through the gang of children who were jumping, hollering, and racing around playing tag. I opened the side door and entered a shed-roofed kitchen to find an old fridge, stove and a laundry-style sink. A black rotary-dial phone hung on the wall. The back door was slightly ajar. Opening it I stuck my head out and saw a wooden outhouse at the edge of the clearing.
I froze. A woman leaned against the back of the church only four feet away from me. She jumped. Her deep-set eyes locked on mine, full of fear and anguish. The cold had turned her pale skin a mottled red and white. Her shoulder-length wiry brown hair was full of split ends. Flinging a cigarette onto a patch of snow she bolted toward the woods.
“Wait! Come back!” I shouted. “I want to ask you a couple of questions.” I debated whether to chase her, but she was already out of sight.
Inside the church David told me the woman was Cindy Dare, Becky’s mother. He said she probably ran away because she was extremely shy. He started summoning the children to join him in a circle, so I left.
Outside, Will slouched against the police car, smoking. The corners of his mouth tipped downwards, his reddish eyebrows almost meeting. He threw his cigarette down and ground it into the squishy clay.
I told him about Cindy running away.
“Cindy is Rex’s second wife. The little girl in pink? Their kid.” His husky voice shook a little. He searched my eyes for a split second, then glanced away. “Becky’s the way she is because of what Rex did to her. He sexually abused several children in South Dare, not only his own. We finally got it to trial and Cindy was one of our key witnesses. She choked on the stand big time. No one believed her.” I thought his eyes welled up a little, but I wasn’t sure.
So Rex was the subject of the witch hunt the judge had thrown out of court. Will had it in for Rex. Maybe that’s why he had a blind spot where David was concerned. I unlocked the car door and slipped into the driver’s seat. Will heaved himself in next to me.
“I