on her. She’s what matters-to both of us.”
I stared at the floor. Then my phone rang. I stood up and took the call.
“Hey,” a voice said through the line. It sounded flat, almost unrecognizable.
“Buster?”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“Where are you? I came by the house.”
“We’re at the police station,” I said. “They made an arrest.”
“Look,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For everything you’ve been through. You and Caitlin.”
There was something about his tone, something off.
“Where are you?” I asked.“What are you doing?”
“We’ll talk soon, I think. Okay?”
“Buster. .”
But he was gone. I called right back, but it went to voice mail immediately. Three times in a row.
Ryan appeared again and summoned the two of us with a quick wave of his hand. He led us to the conference room. No Caitlin.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Ryan pointed to the chairs. “She’s fine, Tom. I wanted to talk to you alone.”
“Did she have to see him?”
“No,” Ryan said. “Please. Just sit. You can take Caitlin home in a minute.”
Abby nodded at me.
“We really didn’t make much progress today,” he said. “At least not with Caitlin.”
“Talking to her alone didn’t help?” Abby asked.
“She told us a few things,” he said.
I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Like what?”
“She didn’t so much say anything,” Ryan said. “But she did ask something. Over and over again. She asked to be allowed to see John Colter. She asked to see him multiple times. Repeatedly and passionately. Finally, I told her to stop asking because it wasn’t going to happen.” He sighed, shifted his weight a little. “And then Caitlin said that she’d tell me whatever I wanted to know if I would just let her see Colter again and spend a few minutes with him. I told her that we couldn’t allow that to happen, that the victim of a crime couldn’t speak to the alleged perpetrator.”
“How did she respond?” Abby asked.
“Like a pouty teenager.” Ryan rubbed his hand across his chin. “You asked me to let you know everything that was said in there. If you still want to know all of that, I can share some more details.”
“Yes,” I said.
Abby moved in her seat, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t object.
“Caitlin told me that she’s in love with John Colter. She said he didn’t do anything wrong, that no one did anything wrong, and she wants the police and the two of you to drop all of this and let her life go back to the way it was before.”
“Meaning. .”
“Meaning she wants to go back to her life with him, not with you.”
He let that settle over the table, a deadweight dropped into our lives.
“We’re going to hold Colter on the suspicion of arson charge. We’re still talking to witnesses and waiting for the arson investigator’s report.”
“So he’ll stay behind bars,” Abby said.
“We need Caitlin’s story,” he said. “She’s the only lead-pipe witness we have. Without that, and without the evidence that went up in the fire. . Have the two of you thought any more about that picture I showed you of John Colter?” He dug in his pocket and brought the photo out. “Why don’t you look at it again?” He slid it across to us. I didn’t look.
“Do you know something else?” I asked.
“Do you?” he asked. “Are you absolutely certain you’ve never seen that man?”
Abby picked the photo up and looked it over. “How can I answer that?” she asked. “Maybe I passed him in the grocery store. Maybe he came and fixed our plumbing. How can I remember every face I’ve ever seen? But, no, I don’t
“Is there something you’re not telling us?” I asked.
Ryan held my gaze, unblinking. I didn’t look away either. He was digging for something, pushing. I couldn’t imagine what it was. He took the photo back.
“Nothing,” he said. “But we need to be sure.”
“Nothing?” I said.
He stood up, hitched his pants. “I’ll have Caitlin brought right out to you,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-eight
I really didn’t feel like dragging ourselves back to Rosenbaum.
But we all climbed into the car, our jackets zipped against the cooling fall weather, and backed out of the driveway.
Then Abby surprised me. She turned to me while I was still backing out and said, her voice casual and effortless, “How would you feel if I went to the church today?”
“Now?”
“I just. .”
She didn’t finish her thought. But I understood. “You want to talk to Chris. I mean, Pastor Chris.”
“It’s not that simple.”
I didn’t drive away. The car sat in the middle of our street, idling. No traffic came either way, and Caitlin sat in the back quietly. “What is it then?” I asked.
She looked back at Caitlin, then shrugged, as if to say,
“Not just.”
“Let’s just go to Rosenbaum’s,” she said. “I should be there.”
When I came to the turn that would take us to Rosenbaum’s, I went right instead of left. We didn’t say anything else about it, but I headed for the church. We passed a couple of strip malls and a long, low building that manufactured machine parts. Then I turned into the church lot.
“Head toward the back,” Abby said. The complex of buildings went on and on, like a small corporation. “Stop by this door,” Abby said. I did. It was a nondescript side entrance flanked by some evergreen shrubs. Ten cars were scattered through the lot, most of them later models. Abby sat with her hand on the door release. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go?” she asked.
“It’s fine.”
“We could take her in there,” she said, nodding toward the door. “She could talk to Chris again. The last time. . Do you really think she talked to Chris just to get back at you?”
I turned and looked into the backseat. Caitlin stared at me. “Yes, I think so,” I said. “Isn’t that right, Caitlin? You talked to Chris just because you were mad at me? Because I slapped you, right?”
“You have it all figured out, don’t you?” Caitlin said.
Abby turned around now, too, letting her hand slip off the door. “Did that man at the jail hit you?” she asked. “Did he hurt you? What about that bruise on your stomach? I’ve never asked, but I worry that he abused you.”
