Flames from Ashes Page 12

  And Annie.

  Sandy rolled her eyes. Annie magically appearing to do this was as absurd as thinking it was Keith’s sister. They couldn’t have transported in. The most logical scenario was that they’d surprised a squatter. Though why they’d been fired on was just as big a mystery.

  Not fired on. Targeted.

  Sandy brushed a chill from her arms. It hadn’t been a warning shot. Whoever shot at them did so with the intent to kill, aiming at the first person who’d stepped from the truck. Her phone rang, startling her from her thoughts and making Tim jump.

  “It’s Clint,” she told Tim. “How is your mother?” she said into the phone.

  “I talked with Dad. Doctors are working on her now. She’s going to be fine. They’re keeping her overnight. He’s in the middle of a roofing job and trying to get away. She told him not to come.”

  “Yes, we heard.”

  “I know. Did you really take her phone away from her?”

  “Damn right, I did. She was given fair warning.” Sandy had snatched it from her fingers and tossed it into Eleanor’s beloved purse. When last seen as she was loaded onto the chopper, Eleanor was clutching the thing against her chest.

  “You are a brave woman. Where are you?”

  “Still at the homestead.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “They’ve got the road blocked. Go home.” She looked around her at the scene. “I’ll be there as soon as Detective Posner clears us to leave.”

  “All right.” His clipped tone suggested he wasn’t pleased about it. “What happened?”

  She gave the rundown of events, hoping she’d remember something new.

  “I need to talk to Dwight,” he said when she was done.

  “Okay.” Shrugging, she exited the truck. “He wants to talk to Detective Posner,” she said to Tim through the window.

  “I’ll come with you.” Tim stepped out.

  “As cover or because you’re scared to stay alone?”

  “How about a little of both.” Tim motioned her on.

  Sandy lifted the phone and waved her arm, catching Posner’s attention. He trotted over and met them halfway.

  “Clint wants to talk to you,” she said.

  He took the phone without hesitation. “Yeah, Clint?” A scowl furrowed lines in his forehead. “I’ll check it out. I understand from Ms. Freeman that your family’s gathering for some meeting tonight. It’d be a good opportunity for me to talk to everyone. Is that okay with you?” He nodded. “Great. See you then. I have the address.” He handed the phone back to Sandy and returned to the deputies.

  “What did you tell him?” she asked Clint.

  “I’ll explain later. I’m going into the shop to see if I can get some work done. I’ll see you back home.” He disconnected without another word.

  “Well?” Tim asked.

  Sandy scowled at the device. “I have no idea.”

  “They’re headed back to the store.” Tim jerked his head, pulling her attention back on the deputies.

  Posner walked back to them.

  “Anything?” Tim asked.

  Posner jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “They followed footprints leading from the store but lost them in the rocks.”

  “So there was someone in the store?” He—or she—must have ducked out when she and Tim were occupied with Eleanor.

  “There was.” Posner gave a nod. “We found a bullet casing from what looks like a twenty-two rifle near the back door. All bright, shiny, and new. The men are going back for a closer look. I want to go over this with you again. What was the very first thing that hit you about the place?”

  “There’s a smart meter and electricity’s on,” they said in unison.

  “For a road that dead-ends at the buildings, it’s well traveled.” Sandy pointed to the road.

  “Although if this were my place and I had equipment stored in the barn, I’d be out doing periodic random checks to make sure everything stayed boarded up,” Tim said.

  Posner squinted into the sun as he surveyed the house and barn. “How soon were you fired on?”

  “The second Mrs. Clifford exited my truck. She didn’t even have time to shut the door and barely cleared it before she took a hit to her left shoulder. Whoever it was had to be one hell of a marksman. It’s a good two hundred yards away.”

  “Or a bad one who got lucky.” Posner looked from the store to the truck. “There’s something under your truck.”

  Tim and Sandy bent down for a look.

  “Those are her keys to the place,” Sandy said.

  “They must have flown from her hand when she went down.” Tim walked over to retrieve them. Sandy and Posner followed.

  “You said you were getting ready to go into the house?” Posner asked.

  “We were doing a preliminary look to see if it was a viable location for fire training,” Sandy told him.

  “Who else knew you were coming here?”

  “Clint and my parents. Possibly Annie Clifford, Clint’s sister-in-law. Apparently the family isn’t in agreement on selling the property. Logic and sentimentality are at war.”

  “Yet they’re willing to have you burn the place down?”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be at war about that too. As I mentioned before, this was a precheck only so they could talk options at their meeting tonight.”

  “I imagine she’d want you to continue to do that precheck.”

  Halfway to his knees to snag the keys, Tim looked up. “What are you saying?”

  They all knew what Posner was saying. He wanted a look inside the place.

  He shrugged. “She gave her permission to go inside. It was important to do so before this meeting. Right?”

  “Circumstances have changed,” Sandy said.

  “Have they?” he asked. “She was insistent the meeting happen. We all heard her loud and clear.”

  Tim grabbed the keys and stood, brushing the sand off his jeans. “It can’t be legal.”

  Another shrug. “It’s not illegal. You’re only doing what she asked. Besides, if there’s anything wrong in there, don’t you think she’d want to know?”

  Sandy didn’t trust him and never had. She didn’t care what the history was between him and Clint. “Why do you want a look inside? The shooting came from the store. The house is boarded up.”

  “Because there’s not only active electricity to this place, the water’s on too.” He pointed to the side of the house. “The ground’s damp from where the swamp cooler on the roof drains. Granted the cooler’s not on, but it has been recently.”

  Tim jangled the keys. “She told us the wells were dried up.”

  Sandy slowly shook her head. “No, she said they dried up or had gone bad or something.”

  “So she’s lied, is mistaken, or someone got the well running. A well might not be good for drinking, but it could be used for agriculture,” Posner said.

  “You think this is a pot farm?” Shock raised her voice higher than Sandy would have preferred.

  He tipped a nod her way. “I do. Boarded up and deserted. Heavy road activity. Lookout ready to kill. And from what we could tell, he’s got a nest inside the store. Someone appears to always be on guard.”

  “You think the Cliffords—”

  Posner snapped his hand up. “I seriously doubt Mrs. Clifford would have brought you out here if she knew someone was growing marijuana on the premises. Illegal pot farms pop up all the time. You know that. Out here in the middle of nowhere, it’s the perfect spot. You have permission to look inside. So let’s find out. Because in the time it takes to get a task force out here, notify DEA, and all that, these people will have moved the product and taken off.”

  “Or deserted it completely,” Tim added. “Easier to cut one’s losses than do jail time.”

  “I’m betting the keys won’t fit.” Sandy marched up to Tim, grabbed the keys, and headed for the door. “They would have changed the lock.”

  “Or kept it the sa
me to frame the Cliffords,” Tim mumbled. “I don’t like this action one bit.”

  Sandy didn’t either, but she was outraged at this point and wanted proof. Opening the door was the only way to get it, and technically, they did have permission to do so. The hasp lock with padlock seemed to support Posner’s theory. She countered that assumption by telling herself it was a logical move. Without it, anyone could have easily busted down the door. Of course, a determined person could do that anyway. A padlock would only slow them down and was nothing a pair of bolt cutters wouldn’t take care of.

  Grabbing the lock, she stabbed the key inside and turned. It opened without a hitch. She pocketed the lock, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Musty odor and a sour stench swarmed around her, roiling her stomach.

  “I can’t—”

  “I’ve got it.” Tim touched her shoulder and stepped inside. “You stay here,” he told Posner.

  She focused on his footsteps tracking through the house in his room-to-room search. “I’m guessing no pot, since he hasn’t shouted the alarm.” Sandy laid the sarcasm on thick and heavy, hoping Posner would chew on it and choke. He drew breath to respond. Tim’s return cut him off.

  “No plants, but there’s drug paraphernalia scattered throughout.” Tim shut the door and extended his hand for the lock, which Sandy gave him. “Someone broke the lock on the back door, and I’d say they’ve been using it as a flophouse.”

  The back door was pointed away from the road. Anyone driving by wouldn’t notice the breach.

  “There are bedrolls, food and booze in the fridge, dishes in the sink, and condoms in the trash. The deeper you go into the place, the bigger the smell.”

  Sandy was glad she’d stayed outside. “I can’t say that’s a secret worth shooting anyone over.”

  Tim snapped the lock into place. “People do some crazy shit. You know that.”

  She sure did.

  Posner jerked his head toward the barn. “Let’s take a look in there.”

  “No. We’re done here.”

  Tim’s finger flick told Sandy to follow him. She didn’t hesitate, and Posner was smart enough not to object. He stood there, hands on hips, watching them get into the truck and drive away.

  “What a day.” Tim raked his hand through his hair.

  Sandy could top that one. “It’s the norm for me of late.”

  “Yeah, I suppose it is. And now your cover’s been blown with the crew.”

  “They’ve promised me distance.”

  Tim shot her a glance, then returned his gaze to the road. “You realize you’re breaking everyone’s heart.”

  She rubbed a sudden ache from between her eyes. “Please don’t lay a guilt trip on me.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “If there’s anything I can do while you’re all caved up, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “I won’t. Just a few days is all I’m asking.” Time to have it hit that she’d lost everything while she gained something more. Time to nest with Clint before the world intruded. Although, it seemed it already had.

  “Understood.”

  “There is one thing I need. I’d like to go over to my place and empty my fire safe.” All her important papers were in there. She needed them to file a claim with her insurance company.

  “The scene hasn’t been cleared yet. Mike’s not finished with his arson investigation.”

  Fine. She’d go over there by herself.

  “But I just told a sheriff’s detective that the back door’s wide open on a house he’s desperate to search.” Tim shrugged one shoulder. “What’s one more violation?”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t,” she said.

  “That’s what I’m hoping with Posner.”

  He’d been in their pockets for days. It was hard to tell if he was friend or foe. Sandy leaned toward foe. Any other detective would have been appreciated. She presumed Posner had drawn the short stick. If any incident involved fire-department personnel, he was the one called in. The everything’s-connected theory. But not this time. She, Tim, and Eleanor had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  They passed the remainder of the ride in silence until Tim turned down her street and they saw a fire-department vehicle parked in front of her house. That meant Mike Barnard was there, working on his investigation. He might not be so agreeable to her presence. Since the plan was for her to train in arson investigation with him, it would be wise for her to keep on Mike’s good side.

  “Do you think Mike will object?”

  “If he does, you can give him the combination to your safe, and he’ll retrieve the contents. That’s really all you wanted, right?”

  No, she’d wanted to see the damage for herself and to collect what she could before scavengers showed up. “I want my plants from the backyard.”

  “Okay, that’s doable. But I’m warning you. It was a bad fire, Sandy. There’s nothing salvageable inside.”

  “I’m prepared.”

  At least she thought she was. She’d seen a lot of fires during her career, and nothing much surprised her anymore. This was different. This was hers, and seeing the little house she’d loved nothing more than a burned-out shell with blackened rubble piled inside felt like a punch to the gut. She made a strangled sound and pressed her fingers to her lips in a sad attempt to maintain control.

  Tim parked at the curb, cut the engine, and twisted her way. “You can cry if you want. It’s what I’d be doing.”

  “I’m tired of crying.” A weary sigh escaped instead. It felt like that was all she’d been doing since the night Keith raped her. Working on the house had been her therapy. Now it was gone.

  Mike waved and strode their way. A clipboard was clutched in one hand. It struck her anew how tall he was and how well matched he and Erica were as a couple. They looked like they belonged together. Tim and Trish did as well. Both couples lit up like Christmas trees in each other’s presence. Love beamed from their expressions. So Sandy couldn’t help wondering how she and Clint measured up as a couple.

  “There are tote bags under the backseat if you need one,” Tim said as he opened the door.

  “I don’t. Everything’s set up so that all I have to do is grab it.” She stepped from the truck and was swept up in Mike’s bear hug.

  “It’s damn good to see you,” he said, setting her back on her feet. “I’m guessing you wanted to see things for yourself.”

  “I do, and to empty my safe.”

  “Give me the combination, and I’ll do that for you.” He curled a big hand over her shoulder. “There’s nothing, Sandy. Nothing.”

  “My plants?”

  Mike looking like he wanted to cry didn’t help. “Nothing. Someone thoroughly and methodically destroyed your garden. They set a fire in your garage near the door to the kitchen. Then they poured a line of accelerant all around the edge of the house.”

  It was personal. Whoever did it wanted her dead and didn’t care that there was an innocent bystander inside.

  She pulled out her notepad, scribbled the numbers for the safe, and gave it to him. “Master bedroom closet. That would be the left front corner of the house. Can I look out back?” Torturing herself? Perhaps. But Sandy couldn’t fathom the hate involved with such destruction. Killing her was one thing, but why the garden?

  “Stick to the sidewalk.” Mike took the slip of paper and returned to the burned-out hulk, stepping right through what used to be a wall to reach his destination.

  Without a word, she and Tim started for the backyard. Sandy pulled out her phone to take pictures for her insurance company—the house, the downed chain-link fence, the scorched sand around the foundation. She froze when she reached the back patio. There went those tears again.

  “It all feels so overwhelming.” She blinked her vision clear only to have tears flood her eyes again. It didn’t help when Tim slipped his arm around her shoulders.

  “All the work I did to renovate the house.” Some of it with Clint by her side. Her partner,
her strength, her equal. “All my power tools.” Replaceable, of course, as were the contents of the house. She’d found bargains before. She’d find them again. “Clothes.” She’d need maternity wear soon, anyway. “My pictures.” She kept a CD of photos in the safe. “My music.” Again, not a total loss. Thank goodness for iTunes.

  Her reasoning didn’t help. It hurt. All of it. Now, seeing this. “It looks like someone picked the pots up, slammed them down, and stomped on the plants. I don’t understand. What was the point? If they didn’t intend for me to survive the fire, what was the point?”

  This was what she got for making sure to include heavy insulation throughout the house in her renovation. Living in a neighborhood with a lot of activity, she’d wanted isolation from as much sound as possible, so she could sleep after a hard shift. Had she not done so, they might have heard the intruder and been able to save everything. And die in the process? After all, this was a determined person.

  Mike’s arm came around her from the other side. He handed her the canvas tote bag filled with all that remained of her life. “As soon as the deputies can find Keith’s sister, we’ll find out. It’s possible that the two things are unrelated. Had you been outside that night? Maybe it was already like this.”

  “Clint was grilling. He would have noticed this. I would have noticed from the kitchen window.” Not really. Her focus had been on Clint. “I don’t have any problems with my neighbors.” God, her neighbors. They were probably frantic with worry. Sandy didn’t have the energy to go door-to-door to reassure them. If anyone was looking, they’d see her here and know she was fine. They’d pass the word.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Mike said.

  Both men gave her shoulders a final squeeze and released her.

  “Your boyfriend created quite a stir at the station this morning,” Mike told her as they started toward the front. “Erica was very impressed. You do realize CJ’s probably going to run a background check on the guy.”