there were more I could do. I hate waiting around like this.” She hated being helpless.
“I know.” He handed her another plate. They did the dishes in companionable silence for the next few minutes. The domestic chore, and the easy rhythm they established, soothed her frayed nerves.
Dwight’s phone rang. He dried his hands and looked at the screen. “I’d better take this,” he said. He moved into the other room. She continued to dry, catching snippets of the conversation.
“When did this happen?”
“Who called it in?”
“What’s the extent of the damage?”
“I see. Yes. I’ll tell her.”
She set the plate she had been drying on the counter and turned to face him as he walked back into the room. His face confirmed her fears. “What’s happened?” she asked.
“There was a fire at your house. A neighbor called it in, but apparently there’s a lot of damage.”
She gripped the counter, trying to absorb the impact of his words. “How did it start?” she asked.
“They think it’s probably arson.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “We aren’t dealing with a prankster here. Someone is out to hurt you, and I’m not going to let that happen.”
The smell of wet ashes stuck in the back of Dwight’s throat, thick and acrid, as he stood with Travis and Assistant Fire Chief Tom Reynolds in front of what was left of Brenda Stenson’s house the morning after the fire. The garage and apartment where Lacy lived were unscathed, but the main house only had two walls left upright, the siding streaked with black and the interior collapsed into a pile of blackened rubble. If Dwight let himself think about what might have happened if Brenda had been inside when the fire was lit, he broke out in a cold sweat.
So he pushed the thoughts away and focused on the job. “We found evidence of an accelerant—gasoline—at the back corner of the house,” Tom said. “Probably splashed it all over the siding, maybe piled some papers or dry leaves around it and added a match—boom—these old houses tend to catch quickly.”
“Do you think the arsonist chose that corner because it was out of view of the street and neighboring houses, or because he wanted to make sure the rooms in that part of the house were destroyed?” Dwight asked.
Tom shrugged. “Maybe both. The location was definitely out of view—someone in the garage apartment might have seen it, but he might have known Lacy wasn’t in last night.”
“Maybe they knew Brenda wasn’t here last night, either,” Travis said. He scanned the street in front of the house. “If they were watching the place.”
“We’ll canvass the neighbors,” Dwight said. “See if they have any friends or relatives who have recently moved in, or if they’ve noticed anyone hanging around or anything unusual.”
“What’s located in this corner of the house?” Travis asked.
“I think it’s where Andy’s home office used to be,” Dwight said. “I remember picking up some paperwork from him not too long after I started with the department.” Brenda hadn’t been home, which had disappointed Dwight at the time, though he had told himself it was just as well.
“That’s probably where the safe was where Brenda wanted to stash that book,” Travis said.
“Probably,” Dwight said. “But safes are usually fireproof.”
“Maybe whoever did this didn’t know about the safe,” Travis said.
“Or destroying the book wasn’t even the point,” Dwight said. “Frightening Brenda into getting rid of the book on her own would be enough for him.”
“I guess I’d be frightened right now if I were her,” Tom said.
“Brenda’s not like that,” Dwight said. “I’m not saying she’s not afraid—but she’s not going to destroy the book, either. This guy’s threats are only making her dig her heels in more.”
Travis checked his watch. “Thanks for meeting with us, Tom,” he said. “I have to get back to the office.”
“Yeah, I’d better get going, too,” Tom said. “I’ll get a copy of the report to you and to Brenda for her insurance company.”
Dwight followed Travis to the curb, where both their SUVs were parked. “I’m supposed to meet with the DEA guy the Feds sent to deal with that underground lab we found out at Henry Hake’s place,” Travis said. “He’s had an investigative team at the site and has a report for me.”
“Mind if I sit in?” Dwight asked. “I’ve got a couple of questions for him.”
“Sure. I asked Gage to be there, too.”
Travis’s brother, Deputy Gage Walker, met them at the sheriff’s department. Two years younger and two inches taller than his brother, Gage’s easygoing, aww-shucks manner concealed a sharp intellect and commitment to his job. “Adelaide told me you two were out at the Stenson place,” Gage said as the three filed into the station’s meeting room. “I drove by there on my way in this morning. The fire really did a number on the place.”
“Tom says they’re sure it was arson,” Travis said.
“How’s Brenda taking it?” Gage asked.
“She’s stoic,” Dwight said.
“She’s been through a lot the past few years,” Gage said.
Brenda had been through too much, Dwight thought. And most of it pretty much by herself. She had friends in town, but no one she could really lean on. He got the sense that Andy’s betrayal had made her reluctant to depend on anyone. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to be so strong around him—but he didn’t want her to take the sentiment wrong.
The bell on the front door sounded, and all conversation stopped as they listened to Adelaide greet a male visitor. Their voices grew louder as they approached the meeting room. “This is Special Agent Rob Allerton.” Adelaide didn’t exactly bat her eyes at the dark-haired agent, who bore a passing resemblance to Jake Gyllenhaal, but she came close. Gage grinned, no doubt intending to give the office manager a hard time about it later.
Allerton himself seemed oblivious to her adoration—or maybe he was used to it. He shook hands with the sheriff and each of the deputies as they introduced themselves. “Is this your first visit to our part of the state?” Travis asked as they settled in chairs around the conference table.
“My first, but not my last.” Allerton settled his big frame into the metal chair. “You people are living in paradise. It’s gorgeous out here.”
“Don’t spread the word,” Gage said. “We don’t want to be overrun.”
“What can you tell us about your investigation of the underground lab?” Travis asked.
“Not much, I’m afraid,” Allerton said. “So far our analysts haven’t found any illegal drug residue, or really any signs that the lab has been used recently.”
“What about World War II?” Dwight asked. “Could it have been used then?”
Allerton frowned. “Want to tell me how you came up with that time period?”
“The local history museum is having an auction to raise money,” Travis said.
“Right, I saw the banner the first day I arrived in town,” Allerton said.
The banner that had mysteriously disappeared—Dwight had almost forgotten about it in the flurry of activity since then. “One of the items up for auction—probably the