Beth was speechless at Heath’s words. Did he really see her like that? More importantly, did Brody see her as a strong, independent woman, and not the meek puppet Evan wanted?
“He’s right.” Camilla walked in, her gaze assessing Heath. She’d had a shower and now looked like the sophisticated, put together woman Beth was used to seeing, instead of the screaming harpy who’d answered the door.
“Of course I’m right.”
Camilla ignored him, her stare focused on Beth. “I’ve always known you were incredible. But you proved just how much fortitude and willpower you possessed when you stood up for your convictions, doing the right thing. I never doubted your strength or your character, not for a second. Captain Caveman is right, you are a warrior. You just needed a chance to prove it.”
“And with that, I’m out. I’ll call the Big House if I hear anything.”
Beth watched Heath walk away, and noticed her friend’s eyes glued to the big man too, with a curiosity that piqued Beth’s interest. Camilla had been hurt in the past, and stayed away from anything resembling a commitment. She dated, but played the field, never staying with any one man for more than a month or so before she moved on. If Camilla stayed around, who knew what might happen? Though she didn’t know Heath, having just met him, she did know his family, and if he was anything like the rest of them, which she was pretty confident he was, Camilla could certainly do a lot worse.
“I see you got my laptop back from the Neanderthal. Hope he didn’t screw up my files.”
“Camilla, give the guy a break. He drove halfway across the country to see his family, only instead of getting to spend time with them, he’s been plunged neck deep in my problems. I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt, okay?”
“Halfway across the country? West coast, I hope.”
“Nope. Virginia. Actually works in D.C.”
“No way he’s a politician. He’s not polished enough.”
Beth shook her head. “I think he works for the ATF. All these Boudreau men seem to like high energy, uber-masculine jobs.”
Camilla pushed her hair behind her shoulders and straightened. “Well, I still haven’t had my caffeine. Want to head back to the Boudreau house and see if they’ve got some coffee?”
Before Beth could answer, her cell phone rang. Looking down at the caller ID, she noted Nica’s name. “Nica, everything okay?
“Beth, I can’t find Jamie. She’s gone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
With the fire finally contained, Brody left Jeff in charge of clearing and processing the scene, and looking for evidence of foul play. Jeff had almost finished his courses, and this would be good on-the-job experience, though he’d follow up on everything he did, to make sure he didn’t miss anything vital. In the meantime, though, he needed to head to the sheriff’s station, and update Rafe on what the forensic arson crime lab uncovered about the Summers’ fire.
How could Greg do this? The man flat-out lied to his face yesterday when he’d questioned him about his family’s homestead. When he’d asked him if he could think of a single person who’d want to burn it, he’d said no. An awful thought raced through his mind, one he hadn’t wanted to considered, even when he’d suspected Greg’s involvement. Could Greg’s family be in on it? Would they condone, maybe even orchestrate, the fire and subsequent coverup? It didn’t seem plausible, but at this point, he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
Right now, he had more questions than answers. The only concrete thing he had was documented proof Greg’s prints were found at the scene. He decided to take a deep breath and break down the facts. Number one, Greg had the means. Gasoline as an accelerant was quick, easy to obtain, and affordable. Anybody could drive up to a gas station and fill up a five-gallon container without arousing suspicion, especially in a small town like Shiloh Springs. Number two, Greg had motive. His family was in desperate need of a cash infusion. His mother’s cancer treatments were mounting and expensive, draining the family’s coffers dry. As a motive, it was hard to think of a better one. Paying for an ailing parent’s chemotherapy and radiation therapy treatments might hold sway with jurors, compassionate circumstances notwithstanding. Number three, Greg had the opportunity to commit the crime. Though he lived in San Antonio, it wasn’t that far a drive to Shiloh Springs. He could have done it and gotten back home before he’d been missed, with no one the wiser.
Pulling up in front of the sheriff’s station, he sat with his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. He never minded putting a firebug behind bars. It was his job. His responsibility. Keeping people and their homes and property safe was something he took seriously. Yet now his conscious warred with his oath to protect. Greg was his friend. He’d know the family for more than twenty years.
With a heavy sigh, he climbed out of his truck and headed inside. He needed to talk to Rafe, get his head on straight before he did something he might regret. Sally Anne greeted him as he walked inside, though she seemed subdued, almost sad. He waved, but couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. This needed
