Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4) (18 page)

“The volunteers don’t get into whatever one is there?”

“No. The ladder truck can’t be driven by everyone, and neither can the ambulance. There also needs to be a paramedic onboard before the ambulance leaves.”

“Can we get a copy of the roster and a list of all the fire calls on the Thursday nights before home football games?” I asked.

“I don’t usually share.” Mrs. Barlow tapped her chin and gazed off thoughtfully into the distance.

“In novels, the sidekick of the sleuth always shares with her,” I said.

Mrs. Barlow beamed. “I’m your sidekick.”

I had a feeling I’d regret this later, but for now, I needed the information. “Absolutely. You helped me on the Belinda Anderson case by telling Detective Roget about the car driving by my house.”

“I did. Well, since we’re working together…” Mrs. Barlow typed in the find field and brought up a couple of pages of data, then hit print. “There you go. Keep those safe and make sure you don’t show them to anyone else.”

“We won’t. Trust us,” Charlotte and I said in unison.

Charlotte and I pored over our copy of the report. I wanted to take a look at it right then and there in case I had any questions. Andrew was a dangerous man. I didn’t want Mrs. Barlow actually getting involved in the investigation. The less I went to her for help, the better. The report revealed that Officer Mitchell had been the first to arrive at Made With love, and reported the volunteer firefighters who arrived at the scene rather than heading to the station. Andrew showed up five minutes after Mitchell, even though he was suspended from the squad. The majority of the crew arrived fifteen minutes later, with Daniel showing up last.

“Have you figured out the culprit?” Mrs. Barlow plopped down so close to me she was almost in my lap.

Jim Ryland had a Vulcan Catering card. It was Thursday. There was a home game tomorrow—bonfire night. I checked the time on my phone. Piece A Pie should still be open. “No. But there is someone we have to go talk to.” And a fire to stop.

“Who?” Charlotte asked.

“Jim Ryland.”

Mrs. Barlow opened a desk drawer and pulled out a binder. She flipped through it and put bright yellow Post-it notes shaped like arrows on the corner of the page. “If I don’t hear from you girls in an hour, I’m putting together a cavalry to come get you.”

TWENTY-TWO

Before we left Mrs. Barlow’s house, Charlotte and I decided to take separate cars. She’d park on the grassy field to the left of the restaurant, and I’d park in the parking lot. Since Jim knew I saw the business card, I’d question him while Charlotte stayed in the shadows and recorded the exchange on her cell phone.

The Piece A Pie lot was empty. Did Jim park in the back, or had his wife dropped him off? Charlotte and I should’ve planned better. We never took into account that he might have closed early. The restaurant was supposed to be open. I made my way to the front door, scanning the parking lot for any lurkers. A handmade sign on the door said, “Closed. Family Emergency.”

I texted Charlotte the information, tugging on the door in case the sign was a diversion. Nope. It was locked. Now what?

A noise came from the back of the store. Hunkering down, I crab-walked my way to the corner of the building and peered around. Jim tested the doorknob a few times, a lone box at his feet. He picked something up and tossed it at the safety light. It plinked off the fixture.

Standing, I gripped the side of the wall and angled myself farther out.

“Come on.” Jim threw another rock. “Hit it.” It missed.

In the soft light, I strained my eyes, making out a gas can and the edge of a photo frame sticking out from the box. A pit formed in my stomach. Jim planned on burning down the pizza joint tonight, with or without the arsonist’s help.

The smell of smoke drifted to me. Crop it all. There might not be a suitable place for a bonfire behind the restaurant, but from the smell of it, there was a perfect clearing in the woods. At least tonight, they set the fire far enough away so an “improperly put-out bonfire” couldn’t be blamed for Piece A Pie going up in flames. But the teens were in danger if Jim, or the arsonist, spotted them. The murderer had already killed two people. What were a couple more?

A sharp breath drew my attention back toward Jim. He stared at me for a long moment. The box clattered to the ground, and Jim sprinted toward the trees. I snapped some pictures, hoping they’d come out.

“Get the kids out. I’m after Jim.” I prayed Charlotte heard me, or the kids. I didn’t really care what made them leave the premises.

Fortunately, I was younger and in better shape than Jim. He slowed, his huffing and wheezing reaching my ears. He found some reserves of energy and put on a burst of speed, crossing toward the parking lot.

“I know it’s you, Jim,” I called out.

He stopped and bent over, presumably to catch his breath.

Cautiously, I walked over to him. I didn’t think I had anything to fear from Jim, but no one liked getting caught almost committing a crime. I remained a few feet away. “Why were you going to torch your place?”

“The bills are killing me. My blood pressure is high. I can’t sleep. My head always feels like it’s going to explode. It’s taking all my time. Take your pick. They’re all true.”

“There are other ways.”

Jim sank to his knees, covering his face with his hands. “My wife has cancer. I don’t want to spend her last months at this damn place. I want to be with her.”

“I’m so sorry.” The anguish in his voice tore at my heart. I blinked away tears.

“I tried selling the place. This was the only way to get out from under the business.”

“You hired Vulcan Catering to set the fire. That’s the real business model…not cooking barbeque.”

“Yes.” Jim rubbed his eyes. “I know it’s horrible. I was so lost.”

“Who gave you the card?”

“I don’t know.”

“You really expect me to buy that?”

Jim lumbered to his feet. “I don’t care what you believe. I found the card on my windshield after I attended a meeting at the nursing home. I thought whoever was opening the catering business was interest in buying Piece A Pie and left their card on the windshield. I had told everyone I was selling it.”

“Why wouldn’t they just talk to you?”

“I figured they wanted to talk to the presenters who were available that night.”

“Your wife is a resident?” Was that how Chad received a card? Did someone else overhear him confiding to Lucy?

“No, I was talking to Norm one day, and he said I should go to the family information seminars. Thought it would be helpful. And since my wife might have to move in, I figured it was a good way to see what’s offered. I asked a few questions, especially about resources available, as my income had taken a hit.”

“Do you remember who was there?”

“Allan Sullivan. Lake Breckenridge. Daniel Burke.”

“Lake?”

“She was given a flower-arranging class.”

A car tore out of the woods. Burnt rubber filled the air.

Charlotte and the teens. I hadn’t heard anything from them since I ran after Jim. Did the arsonist finally show up? I raced off, heading toward the smell of the smoke.

Waves of red and orange flames danced a few yards ahead. I tried calling out, but either panic or being out of breath was working against me. The knot in my stomach tightened. At the very least, I had expected to hear Charlotte dressing down the kids.

I peered through a few branches. Hannah and Brandon were the only ones at the bonfire. A little ways behind them was a fallen tree covered with fleece blankets, a few filled grocery bags resting against it. Charlotte wasn’t there. Nausea rose in me.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Hannah said. “All we’ve done is cause more trouble.”

“I’m not leaving,” Brandon said. “You can’t make me.”

I stepped out of the shelter of the branches. “Where’s your mom?”

Letting out a startled squeak, Hannah spun and nearly toppled into Brandon’s lap. She recovered quickly.

“My mom?”

“She came with me. I went to talk to Jim, and she was coming to check out the bonfire.” I was proud of myself for keeping my panic under control.

Hannah shrugged.

“We didn’t see her,” Brandon said. “Haven’t seen anyone else.”

Why wasn’t Hannah concerned? Was she lying to me about her mom’s whereabouts? Had I mistaken where the sound had come from and Charlotte was the one who’d driven off?

“I want answers, not more lies. There are enough stories floating around and innocent people are getting hurt.” I planted my hands on my hips and glared at the only teens—Hannah and Brandon—at the bonfire. Either they came out for some alone time or they were up to something dangerous and stupid.

Hannah lowered her gaze to the ground and shoved some dirt around with her foot. The well-maintained blaze cast an orange glow onto her face. The bonfire was contained between large rocks.

“I want one of you to start talking.” I fixed my fiercest gaze on them.

“We don’t have to talk to you,” Brandon said. “You’re not the police. Not that I’d have to talk to them either. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Then why are you hiding out back here?” I asked.

“We’re not hiding. We’re at the pre-game bonfire,” Brandon said.

Hannah remained uncharacteristically silent.

I heaved out an I-wasn’t-born-yesterday sigh. “Where’s everyone else?”

Brandon and Hannah exchanged a look. He maneuvered his wheelchair closer to her.

I stepped onto the only clear patch of ground, blocking him from Hannah. I felt a little bad doing so, but I wanted the truth, not a plotted excuse.

“I’m not saying anything.” Brandon glared up at me.

“You better start explaining to
me
.” Karen stepped out of the shadows and into the firelight. “Because if not, I’ll call your dad and you can enlighten him. He told you last night when he got home from talking to the police to let us handle it. We
will
get your mom out of jail.”

Brandon groaned. “I should’ve known you’d be here. Why can’t you just back off, Aunt Karen?”

“Because nosing around in this murder investigation can get you hurt.” Karen stomped over to Brandon. “Don’t you get that? Your mom would be devastated if something happened to you. She’d never forgive herself.”

“I’m devastated. Today. Yesterday. Tomorrow.” Tears glittered in his eyes. “Don’t any of you understand that? Mom won’t even see me. I don’t want her doing this for me.”

“She isn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Brandon screamed. He yanked the rims down, jerking his chair forward. “It is about me. She thinks the only way I can have a life is if she gives up hers. I don’t want one that way. I’d rather live here the rest of my life, work at a fast food counter, and never have enough money than have my mom in prison.”

“Honey, I’ve tried. She won’t listen.” Karen’s breaking heart was in her voice. “She doesn’t want anyone’s help.”

Felicity’s stubbornness was destroying her son and making me like her less and less. Her decision made no sense to me, unless she knew the next most likely suspect was her husband. But why would Allan allow his wife to go to jail in his place?

“My mom is crazy.” Brandon pressed the lever on his chair. The wheelchair gave a jerky start, stopping when the wheels caught on a root half buried under the ground. “Tell her I won’t quit until she’s out of jail.”

“We won’t let her go to prison for this,” I said. “Even if that is what she wants.”

“How? We need proof.” Brandon settled back onto solid ground.

“My mom’s going to get it,” Hannah said.

“Now?” I asked. “Where?”

Hannah refused to meet my gaze.

“She could be in danger,” I said. “A vehicle zipped out of here.”

“I’m not, but someone else likely is.” Charlotte stepped out from the woods and sent a scathing look at her daughter. It was the first time I ever saw Charlotte show any displeasure with her daughter. “Did you get a good look at the car?”

“No, I was too far away,” I said.

“There was no one back down by the creek,” Charlotte said.

“I swear I saw a flashlight coming from there.” Hannah’s voice trembled. “Someone was out there.”

Brandon held Hannah’s hand. “I saw it too, Ms. Hanson. There was a light coming toward us, and Hannah called out saying she was glad they could make it. Whoever it was left.”

Charlotte crossed her arms and began a staredown with her daughter. “When are you going to stop trying to make things better by sneaking out and agreeing to elaborate plans that are only going to get you into trouble, or worse, hurt?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“You think this,” Charlotte waved her arms around, showcasing the bonfire and the bags of food and drinks placed near the downed tree covered with blankets, “was a smart idea?”

“I wanted everyone to come,” Brandon said. “The team has never skipped a bonfire before, especially when the food and drinks are free.”

“You’re lucky none of them came,” Karen said.

Brandon backed up the wheelchair then moved forward again. After a few times, the chair rolled over the root.

“You told them not to, didn’t you? I can’t believe you did that.”

“I didn’t speak to any of the players or cheerleaders. I interviewed Coach Rutherford this morning, and told him I thought it would be best if his players refrained from the bonfire tradition until after the murders were solved. Some of our rivals would love to use the fires against us and get our team banned from playoff games. Coach Rutherford agreed. And what the coach says goes. You know that, Brandon.”

With the firelight, I saw wetness on his cheeks. “I do. They were my friends when I was winning; now they have no use for me. And they did this to me.” Brandon punched the armrests of his chair.

“What do you mean?”

Karen sat on her heels and wrapped her hands around her nephew’s fists.

“The cigarette I took from Whitney. It wasn’t tobacco.”

“From Whitney?” I blurted. “The pictures showed you getting it from Andrew Taylor.”

“Whitney told me she’d hold them in her thermal bag since we were playing with water guns. They’d stay dry in there. She must’ve given them to Andrew to bring to me.”

“I’ll take care of this.” Karen shot to her feet.

“I’ll handle it, Aunt Karen. I want them to know I can take care of myself.”

“Did your mom know about Whitney?” I asked.

Brandon shook his head. “I didn’t tell her. I didn’t believe I was high. It wasn’t until school started that I found out about the picture.”

“How? Who?” Karen’s voice rumbled like thunder.

“Kirstin showed it to me,” Hannah said. “I told Brandon about it. I promised him we’d take care of it. Whitney wouldn’t get away with ruining his life.”

“Why didn’t you tell Coach Rutherford?” I asked. “Principal Hanover?”

“Because Coach Rutherford is an upstanding member of the community,” Hannah said. “My mom isn’t. You really think someone would believe me over Whitney? Not going to happen.”

“I believe you. My grandmothers would. Steve would. Detective Roget would. And a lot of other people.”

“Keep living in your fantasy world,” Hannah said. “We’ll handle this on our own. Once we get the solid proof, we’ll show everyone.”

“No, you won’t,” Ted’s voice boomed in. “I’ll take this matter over from here.”

We all turned. Ted stood with a group of men. Jasper, Wayne, and Wyatt were in the middle of the pack, with Ted and Steve at the ends. Each of the men had arms crossed, scowls on their faces, and blocked the only clear exit from the clearing.

“What are you guys doing here?” I focused on Wyatt, who seemed the least annoyed.

Charlotte sidled over to me. “We forgot to keep track of time.”

Mrs. Barlow had kept her word. She rustled herself up a cavalry to come out and save us. Now that it was apparent we didn’t need saving, our rescuers were highly ticked off.

Karen, Brandon, and Hannah drew closer to us. There was safety in numbers.

“I think you know why we’re here,” Ted said.

Poor Mrs. Barlow. She’d love to have been here to see all these guys lined up side by side. Of course, she’d have liked it better if they were all in uniforms, though an assistant prosecuting attorney didn’t really have a uniform, unless you counted a suit.

“Someone sent out a premature distress call,” I said. “As you can see, we’re fine. We just came to check out the bonfire.”

“I’m sure you only came here to tell these kids why this was a bad idea.” Ted tipped his chin, indicating the fire. “Wayne and Wyatt, I’d like you guys to put that out. Hose it down good and make sure there’s no way anyone can say this fire started another one.”

“I hope this isn’t one of Felicity’s new plans to frame herself,” Steve said.

“Frame herself?” Karen left the safety of our circle and approached Steve.

“Don’t play stupid, Karen.” Even though Steve addressed Karen, his eyes were on me. “You know that the other common factor is that Allan sold all of the insurance policies to the businesses that burned down. The police would find out.”

“Shut up, Davis,” Ted snapped.

“Why can’t he tell the truth?” Brandon rolled toward Ted. “You guys were going after my dad. I told you he was home with me, but you all think I’m a liar. My dad volunteered as a firefighter but quit after my accident. So what? That doesn’t make him an arsonist or a murderer. He quit because being responsible for people’s lives made him anxious, and Mom needed him at home to help with me.”

“And once Karen proves Felicity’s innocence, it’ll be harder for the police to charge Allan. It’ll look like they’re targeting the Sullivan family,” Steve said. “So she rounded up her three most probable suspects right here. At a fire.”

Karen drew in a sharp breath. She looked crestfallen at what Steve accused her of. Part of me believed it was a possibility, but the other part knew Karen well enough to know she’d have publicly tarred and feathered Allan if it was true.

“Davis, don’t make me tell you to shut the hell up again.”

“Your theory is baseless,” Karen said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Steve smiled at her.

Karen’s eyes widened.

Steve talked to Felicity about Vulcan Catering. Had Dawn spoken to Steve or the police recently about it? Was that why Ted shrugged off my concerns?

Ted’s radio crackled.

“Emergency at Barlow’s.” The dispatcher sounded furious. “Not an admiration call. Someone actually attacked her.”