“Not yet. He’s fighting the backlog at the state laboratory.” He sipped his beer. “I was able to pull up a text message chain between Lana and an unknown boyfriend.”
“Really? Is he here in town?”
“Seems that way. She was threatening to expose their affair. This was early last week.”
“For what it’s worth, my theory is fairly simple. Darren starts an affair with Lana, she threatens to tell the missus, and he decides to kill two birds with one stone.”
“Great theory, but he was in Chicago at the time of the fire,” Gideon said.
“According to whom? His wife? Maybe she liked the idea of taking care of two problems at once.” She rubbed her thumb against her index and middle fingers. “Money, money, money.”
“She’s provided me with a list of places where they were in Chicago, as well as credit card receipts.”
“Do you have security footage at these establishments corroborating the purchases? Otherwise, anyone could have swiped their credit cards for them.”
“I’m working on that. I’ve been on the phone most of the day requesting security footage.”
“The DNA of Lana’s baby will be the ace in the hole.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The boy’s heavy footfalls reminded Joan of how her dad’s liquor bottles would rattle when she raced in after school.
Kyle hurried into the room as Gideon was pulling a sheet pan of french fries from the oven. The boy washed his hands and, drying them quickly, tossed the towel in a ball on the counter. He plopped in his chair with a big grin.
She was tempted to assign him the nickname Bamm-Bamm but decided to keep her distance, knowing she was leaving on Sunday. They each grabbed burgers, fries, and whatever condiment seemed to suit. Ketchup was the winner, hands down.
As they ate, she listened to Kyle chatter about his day as Gideon asked pointed questions that displayed real interest in his son’s life. She remembered now why she had been so drawn to the Bailey family, and most especially Gideon. What would it have been like if Gideon had gotten her pregnant and Kyle was their child? She quickly chased away the answer.
“Nate just texted me a picture of the burned shed,” Kyle said.
Joan had been careful not to question Kyle about Nate, knowing Gideon would be as touchy as Ann had been when she’d interviewed Nate. But she was paying close attention.
Gideon cleared his throat as he grabbed a french fry. “What did he say?”
“Not much. He said it’s still warm in spots.”
“Yeah,” she said easily. “It was tough to put out.”
“That’s what Nate said.” His tone was a mixture of wonder and skepticism. “He said the hose almost didn’t reach all the way.”
She let the boy’s comment dangle like bait for Gideon. She had promised not to tell, but if Nate had told Kyle and Kyle told his father . . .
“How much of the fire did Nate see?” Gideon asked.
“He didn’t start it,” Kyle said.
“Okay.” Gideon’s gaze immediately shifted to Joan. “Did Nate see how it started?”
“Nope, he was just outside and saw it go up.”
“What was he doing outside, pal?” Gideon asked.
Kyle shrugged as if he realized he might have said something wrong. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, you do,” Gideon said.
Kyle dropped the last half of his burger to the plate. He looked as if he might argue but then sighed. “When he can’t sleep, he goes to the firepit and hangs out.”
“Does he set fires?” Gideon asked.
“No,” Kyle rushed to say. “Aunt Ann would kill him.”
“Yes, she would,” Gideon said.
“Why does he like the idea of setting fires?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Is he in trouble?” Kyle asked.
“No, he’s not in trouble.” Gideon shifted the conversation toward sports, and soon the three were arguing the merits of the Denver Broncos versus the Philadelphia Eagles.
When Kyle asked to be excused and cleared his plate, Joan sat, feeling all Gideon’s unasked questions bubbling below the surface.
“You didn’t tell me Nate was outside before the fire,” he said.
“Ann asked me to keep it between us.”
He was quiet for a moment, staring at her with an expression reserved for suspects. “I understand the need to protect your own child. Ann loves Nate. And we all know he’s bright as hell, a little quirky, and we all love him. He and Kyle are best friends.”
“I’m waiting for the but.” She sipped the last of her beer, knowing she would soon need another one.
“I know Nate loves the bonfires at the games. I admit, there’ve been times I thought that was the only reason he came.”
“His dad’s a firefighter. Makes sense, I suppose.”
“Joan, did Nate set that fire?”
Joan had asked herself that question a dozen times since last night. “I don’t believe so. He thought he saw someone run off into the woods.”
“He saw someone?”
“That’s what he said. He didn’t see the person’s face and can’t identify him.”
“It was a man.”
“He thinks so.”
“And Nate was outside because he has trouble sleeping?”
She thought about Elijah in college and all the reading he did at the diner when he could not sleep.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.
She met his gaze head-on. “You know everything I know.”
“Bull.”
She shrugged. “I can’t help it if you don’t believe me.”
He sat back, still regarding her. “Elijah’s warden sent me the letters he had on file from the women who wrote him.”
She folded her arms. “And?”
“You wrote to him a few days after the Newport fire.”
“I’ve written to him plenty of times. Feel free to read all of them.”
“I’ve read a few.”
She arched a brow. “And what was your impression?”
He dodged the question. “Why did you write him?”
A half smile tugged at the edge of her lips. “Like I’ve said. Insight.”
“His letters offered insight into your case?”
She rubbed her temple with her fingertips. “And that’s when I cut off contact.”
“Do you want to talk about the Newport case?”
“Why? The