“I didn’t set the fire.” Nate’s quiet voice came from the back seat.
She looked in the rearview mirror and caught his wise gaze staring at her.
Kyle was beside him, nodding his agreement. “He didn’t set the fire.”
“I believe you.” Keeping her voice low and calm, she asked, “Do you know who set it?”
“No,” Nate said.
“What woke you?”
“I was hungry,” Nate said.
“He’s always hungry,” Kyle offered.
Joan could not tell if Kyle was giving him an excuse or really explaining. “What did you eat?”
“I saw the fire before I got to the kitchen.” Nate burrowed deeper into his blanket, making it impossible to really see him well.
“Why didn’t you tell your mom? It could have caught the woods on fire.”
“I didn’t think about that; I just ran outside. Then you came out.”
She stared into his gaze, trying to decipher what was going on in that head of his. “Did you see who set the fire, Nate?” she asked again.
Instead of answering, Nate closed his eyes and tugged the blanket up close to his chin. “I’m tired.”
Most children were not good at masking their thoughts and feelings, but she suspected Nate was far more mature and capable than she had realized.
The fire crews arrived minutes later, and the single-engine crew quickly unloaded their hoses and went around the side of the house. With more power than her garden hose, they quickly doused whatever embers remained. Clarke pulled up behind the truck and got out of the car.
Joan tightened her blanket around her. She was warm, and the comfort of the wool now scratched her skin. She was anxious to get clothes back on so that she would be more comfortable and freer to move.
She opened the door, glancing back to see that Nate and Kyle were sleeping. Gingerly, she stepped out of the car, the graveled driveway digging into her bare feet. The night’s chill had more bite now that her blood had warmed.
She closed the car door gently, watching as Gideon, Clarke, and Ann all spoke to each other. She crossed the driveway and hurried up the front path, past two firefighters.
“Sorry, fellas,” she said as she kept moving. “I’m buck naked and need my pants.”
Their gazes shifted to her hand gripping the wool blanket, and no doubt they were wondering what was underneath it. Let them wonder. As long as she got her clothes.
The heavy scent of smoke had infiltrated the house. She hurried down the hallway toward her bedroom and ducked inside.
She snapped up the bag and slid into a clean pair of jeans and a black V-neck sweater. She quickly ran her fingers through her damp hair, which stuck up and refused to be tamed. There was nothing to be done about it, so she slipped on her other pair of shoes and headed toward the front door. She grabbed one of Ann’s jackets and headed outside. Gideon was waiting for her on the front porch.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting clothes. Hard to investigate when you don’t have pants on.”
The sound of a man’s voice rose before he could respond, and they looked to see Clarke and Ann arguing. She was keeping her voice low but was standing toe to toe with him.
Joan moved past Gideon and crossed to the couple. “What’s going on?”
“It’s none of your business,” Clarke said.
“I just spent a half hour putting out a fire, so I would say all of this is my business,” Joan replied.
Ann looked pale and tired. “I don’t want you two getting into it. I want to go back inside my house with my son and maybe get a shower and an hour or two of sleep.”
“You’re not going into that house,” Clarke said. “You and Nate need to move back to town into our house. At least in town, you’ll have better access to fire and rescue if this nut strikes again.”
“I’m not moving back into our house,” Ann said.
“I will move out,” Clarke said quickly. “I’ll stay at the fire station. I just want you and my son safe.”
“We’re fine,” Ann said.
“The shed was torched!” Clarke shouted. “Next time it might be the house.”
“Dad? Why are you fighting with Mom?” Nate asked.
They all turned to see Nate and Kyle standing in the driveway, wool blankets wrapped around their pajamas.
Clarke moved to Nate and knelt in front of him, hands resting on his shoulders. “Mom and I aren’t fighting, buddy. We’re worried.”
Nate looked toward the smoking remains of the shed. “Why? The fire wasn’t that bad.”
“It could have been much worse,” Clarke said calmly. “That’s what worries me.”
Nate yawned. “I want to go to bed.”
“I can put you in your old room,” Clarke said.
“I don’t want that room. I like the one here better.”
Ann stood beside Nate. “Gideon is on the property. Joan is here. We aren’t alone.”
“That’s not the point.” Frustration simmered under Clarke’s words. “You’re my family. My responsibility. This break you put us on needs to end.”
“The house is untouched,” Gideon said. “And I’m just down the road.”
“See? We’ll be fine,” Ann said. “But I agree—we’ll have to talk soon.”
Clarke kept his hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Ann, it’s safer for you both in town, and you know it.”
“We’re staying here,” she insisted. “I won’t be run out of my home by some coward who thinks he can scare me.”
“I’ll be here as well,” Joan said.
“But you might be the reason that my family is in danger,” Clarke said, his gaze cutting to her. “What the hell is it with you and fire, Joan?”
“What do you mean?” Gideon asked.
“Wherever she goes, disaster strikes. This is the second time she’s been near Ann when a major arson event happened. Three if you count the Beau-T-Shop fire, which happened within hours of her arrival.”
Tamping down her anger, Joan refused to let Clarke see he had gotten to her. The Beau-T-Shop fire might have just coincided with her arrival, but this fire was a direct
