He looked down. “Hm.”
Mac reached inside a large pocket on his yellow jacket and pulled out a misshapen red hunk. It smelled vaguely Christmassy even over the smoke. “Why were you burning a candle next to a giant pile of clothing?”
“I wasn’t. This isn’t my candle.” Charlotte gawked at him. “Did it look like an accident?”
Mac shook his head. “No, not really. Giant pile of clothes in the hall, and it looks like an accelerant was used—”
Declan interrupted. “There was something else. Two by fours. Blocking the end of the hall.”
Mac scowled. “I saw those on the ground. You’re saying they were across the hall?”
Declan nodded. “I almost ran into them. I pulled them off, but it wasn’t easy. They were screwed into the wall, about head and chest high.”
“Screwed?” Charlotte remembered the sound of what she’d thought was Declan drilling something and gaped in horror. She’d been ready to throw a wet towel over her head and run down the hall with Abby in her arms. If she’d hit those two by fours she would have bounced back into the pile of burning clothes...
She felt the blood drain from her face.
“That doesn’t sound like an accident,” muttered Mac. “But if the whole house had burned down—”
“They might have been just another piece of charred wood. No one would have known.”
Charlotte spotted Frank and Darla hustling toward them and realized one person was missing.
“We have to find Gloria.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Darla and Frank arrived outside Charlotte’s house, breathless. Frank couldn’t remember the last time he’d moved that fast for that long. He held his side where a stitch threatened to squeeze off his intestines.
He definitely couldn’t remember the last time he’d moved that fast in cotton pajamas.
“Nice shoes,” said Charlotte.
He looked down and realized he’d slipped into the pink pig slippers Darla had bought him the previous Christmas. Whether you’re a police officer or a sheriff, everyone always thinks pig gifts are funny.
“Thanks,” he grumbled.
“They oink when you squeeze the noses. What happened? Are you okay?” Darla’s attention drew to Declan. “You’re filthy.”
Declan smiled, his teeth whiter than usual against his sooty skin. “Thank you for noticing.”
Charlotte held up a hand. “I’m fine. Where’s Gloria?”
Mariska squinted at her. “You almost died in a fire! Why are you worried about Gloria?”
Frank knew why.
He scowled. “You can’t possibly—”
Charlotte glanced side-eyed at Darla, and Frank caught her hint.
Don’t let Darla know her friend might be killing people.
He shifted gears. “She’s at the house.”
The answer, as he suspected, wasn’t enough.
“You saw her?” she asked.
Darla frowned. “No, we ran right over. Why?”
“Her door was shut,” added Frank. “Tell you what, I’ll go back.”
Charlotte smiled. “Thank you.”
Frank spun on his heel and slapped home. He didn’t think for a second Gloria would have tried to harm Charlotte, but he understood eliminating her as a suspect would help the girl’s mind rest.
Heading up his driveway, he noticed a manilla folder leaning against the siding beside his front door. He hadn’t noticed it on the way out, but in their hurry to get to Charlotte’s that wasn’t strange.
He stooped and picked it up to flip it over once or twice.
Blank. Hm.
He picked at the flap as he continued inside and walked down the hall to the closed guest room to knock. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, louder.
“Yes?”
“Hey, Gloria, uh...” Frank realized he hadn’t come up with a way to explain why he was waking her up in the middle of the night. Somehow, he needed to confirm she wasn’t dressed and hadn’t been out of the house.
“There’s a fire,” he said, adding a little extra urgency to his voice.
“What?”
Gloria flung open the door and ran directly into him. Without apology, she barreled past him as he stumbled back. She dragged a sheet behind her, her butt exposed to the wind.
Frank closed his eyes and hung his head, muttering. “For the love of...”
Taking advantage of her absence, Frank stepped inside the room and flipped on the light. Nothing about the bedroom said Gloria had been anywhere but sleeping since she went to bed. He flipped off the light and headed outside, worried about what might greet him there.
Gloria stood at the end of the driveway, now fully wrapped in her sheet, staring down the street at the red glow cast by the fire truck’s blinking lights.
She looked at him, her eyes wide, pointing toward Charlotte’s house.
“Why are they down there?”
“Because that’s where the fire is.”
She appeared bleary-eyed and confused, which Frank took as further evidence she hadn’t been up and awake, fresh from setting Charlotte’s house ablaze.
“Charlotte’s house had a little fire.”
Gloria scowled. “Not here?”
He shook his head and her shoulders slumped.
“You made it sound like we were on fire.”
“Did I? I didn’t mean—”
Gloria straightened. “Were you trying to get a peek of me naked?”
“What? No!” Frank took a step back, nearly dropping the half-opened manilla envelope in his hand.
Gloria pulled her sheet tighter to her body and headed toward the door. She slowed as she passed him. “I won’t tell Darla about this.”
Frank found himself unable to speak until she’d entered the house. He found his voice as the door clicked shut behind her.
“You can tell her anything you like!”
Gritting his teeth, Frank slapped back to Charlotte’s, envelope swinging in his hand. Charlotte jogged toward him before he reached the group.
“So?” she asked.
“It wasn’t her. She was dopey as could be. Sound asleep for hours, naked in her bed.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Naked?”
Frank frowned. “As it turns out. She came running out of the room wrapped
