“Have you heard from Ethan?” Chief Reid asked.
I jerked in his direction again. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering if he’s made contact with any of you.”
“He hasn’t,” I said simply. “Not with me.”
The coroner’s car and a white van arrived. A barricade was set up down the block, and several uniforms were stationed at the tape to keep people from coming too close to the crime scene, but it was near impossible to keep everyone away. A steady flow of residents huddled together in small packs across the street, sipping their morning coffee and shaking their heads.
Chief Nash ducked under the tape and walked cautiously over to where we stood. “Doesn’t take a genius to determine this was arson, does it? This place reeks of gasoline.” He looked at me. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Hi, Uncle Henry. I’m fine.” I was sure he knew I was lying. I was certainly not okay. This crime scene hit too close to home.
Uncle Henry’s thick golden hair and dark complexion always reminded me of my mother. He once told me that his nickname in high school had been “California.” It was he and his wife who took me in after my mom died; I lived with them as I finished up my last year in high school. My brother had wanted to take care of me, but he was finishing up his undergraduate degree at the University of Kentucky and had just been admitted to Auburn University’s veterinarian school. And everyone agreed it was best that he finish college and proceed straight to vet school. I knew everyone hoped I would be off to college in a year, I’d move on from the tragedy, and everything would be okay.
I did go off to college. The rest of the plan didn’t go so well.
Chief Reid angled his head, studying me as if he’d only just now realized that this scene might be hard on me.
The squeal of tires pierced the crisp morning air, followed by a high-pitched scream. I spun to see Bella Reynolds getting out of a red sedan.
“Well, I guess we’ve found the daughter,” Chief Reid said under his breath. “Who the hell let her through the barricade?”
The coroner was closest to her, and he stopped her from running through the red caution tape like she’d just finished first in a marathon. Unfortunately for her, I knew the marathon was yet to come. The longest race of her life would be trying to forget the image of the people she loved most being burned to a crisp. Even if she didn’t actually see the bodies, her mind would conjure up the image—and it would haunt her forever.
She was still screaming hysterically, held by the coroner, as Chief Reid walked over to her. “What happened? Oh, God! Mom! Dad! Nooo!” Her screams turned into sobs.
It was yet another replay of a horrific moment I’d experienced myself.
As Chief Reid comforted the girl, I turned to Uncle Henry. “He thinks it’s Ethan, doesn’t he?”
“Ethan’s name was mentioned when Sam called last night.”
Ethan had been sentenced to life in prison, but in a shocking turn of events, he was released less than a month ago. He had put in a request for an appeal of his verdict, based on exculpatory evidence hidden from the public defender during the original trial. And it must have been quite the collection of evidence withheld, because not only was the appeal approved, but the commonwealth’s attorney decided to drop all charges almost immediately thereafter. And then the judge did something completely unprecedented: he sealed the evidence and kept it from being released to the public.
Uncle Henry sighed. “When he was released, I knew his name would be thrown around in any arson investigations that came up. The public still believes he’s guilty—there’s no reason for them to think otherwise, since the evidence is sealed—and you know he’s on the radar of reporters, too. They all want the story.” He looked down at me. “Do you know where he went after his release?”
“Me? Why would I know?”
“The two of you were close once. I thought if he contacted anyone…”
My body tensed, and a wave of dread and nausea rose from my gut. I quickly changed the subject. “I’ve got enough photos,” I said. “I’ll have the station send copies to you.”
I started to edge past my uncle, but he grabbed my arm and held firmly, forcing me to look him in the eye.
“You’re not safe at the farm, Faith. I don’t even care why the prosecutors decided to drop those charges—Ethan is still a dangerous man. And twelve years in the state pen can’t have helped. We don’t know what kind of person he is now.”
“If Ethan means me harm, I’m not safe anywhere,” I spat. I pulled my arm from my uncle’s grasp. He liked to treat me like I was still a teenager, but I hadn’t been a young girl in a very long time. I knew how to take care of myself. “He should never have been let out.”
The way I saw it, Ethan’s release was the fault of the fire and police investigators, who must have made some sort of procedural mistake. They should have made sure the evidence was tight all those years ago. But I couldn’t say that to Uncle Henry, because he’d been involved in the investigation. Chief Reid, too. They’d spent a lot of hours collecting evidence and building a timeline that convinced both a jury and me that Ethan was guilty. Which only made me hate Ethan even more.
Bella still wailed. She was facing more heartache than a seventeen-year-old should have to face. Lucky for her, she’d only have to live through it once. I lived through it every single day of my life, reliving my most significant memories over and over again. And according to the slew of doctors and therapists I’d seen over the years, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
An angry heat rose in my cheeks when I spotted a reporter snapping photos of the chief and Bella, forever preserving the girl’s grief. I spun back to face Uncle Henry. “Instead of worrying about me, you ought to work on your barricades. Someone needs to keep those vultures out of your crime scene.”
The back entrance to Boone’s Taphouse stank of stale beer kegs and rotten food at eight thirty in the morning. The restaurant and bar wouldn’t open for another two and a half hours, but I knew Caine would be there. Sure enough, when I entered, I heard his deep voice yelling obscenities from the storeroom.
I pushed opened the door. He was leaning an elbow against a stack of boxes, his other hand was massaging his temple, and he was speaking loudly into his phone. His blond, shaggy hair was already a mess—he’d clearly been running his hand through it quite a bit. He spotted me, and I motioned that I would be at the bar.
The bar was mahogany-topped, with leather that was stained with rings and scratches, giving it a weathered look. I grabbed a glass, reached for a bottle of Caine’s finest bourbon, and poured myself a finger’s worth. I threw it back, marveling in its smooth, rich taste as it slid past my tongue and warmed my throat. Then I poured a couple more fingers.
“Help yourself,” Caine said sarcastically as he joined me behind the bar.
“You were busy.” I shrugged, then circled the bar and slid into a stool.
Caine grabbed himself a larger glass and fixed a soda. “Tough scene this morning?”
“House fire. Two people dead.”
“I heard. You okay?”