Chapter Four
On the smart screen in the fire station conference room, a grainy black and white video shows a dark figure moving outside the B&B.
My leg shakes with a surge of anger. This is the guy who destroyed Sammy’s property and threw her life into chaos.
“That's all we got,” Dec says, leaning back in his chair. “The B&B security cameras were old. That was the only one still working What do you say, Jasper?”
Sheriff Jasper faces the dozen of us around the conference table.
“All we can say for sure is he's somewhere between five and a half and six feet. My impression, based on what we can see of the perpetrator’s movement, is that we’re dealing with a targeted crime.
The movements in the video are hasty. The head movement suggests fear and uncertainty.
None of those you get with a serial arsonist.”
“You’re saying the B&B was the target?” I ask while Jasper takes a sip of water.
He places the bottle back on the table. “That’s unclear. The way the fire was planned, it was meant for total destruction. In the right winds, it would have spread quickly to the surrounding properties. We’d have had a major disaster.
"I’d say we’re either we're dealing with someone who was targeting the B&B and wasn’t concerned with the impact the fire could cause beyond the B&B.
Or we’re dealing with someone who knew the B&B was empty.
That made it a convenient starting point for a fire that would obliterate a number of properties and have massive environmental impact. ”
“And this guy is still out there,” Dec says. He lets out a long exhale. “I don’t like that he got a taste of success in taking down the B&B.”
“Agreed,” Jasper says. “The fire didn't result in loss of life. No one got injured. My sense is the arsonist was driven by the rage-filled agenda. That rage has found an outlet. This fire might not have been enough. The arsonist might be motivated to strike again.”
I sit forward. “What if the owner, Sammy Lane, was the target? What about her house? She has a daughter. What if this guy tries something in town?”
Jasper nods. “No one wants anything to happen to Sammy and her daughter. She should take practical safety measures. I bet she could stay with her parents for a while. We should talk to her.”
“I’ll talk to her,” I say before anyone else can volunteer. “I’m coaching her daughter in T-ball.”
“Sounds good,” says Dec and hands me his tablet. “Take this. See if she recognizes anything in the video.”
“Will do.”
It’s four-fifty when I turn onto Sammy’s driveway. A little early for the five o’clock meeting.
The house sits on a couple acres right outside of town.
It’s got the appearance of a converted barn with windows shaped to complement the sloped roof.
For two people, it seems big, and the windows aren’t shaded.
It's almost dark, and from the outside, it’s easy to observe movement between the lit rooms on the first floor.
A woman with dark hair twisted into a knot and clear, sea-blue eyes answers the door. “You must be Brady. I’m Ellen, Sammy's mom. Come inside.” The house smells like fresh wood and chili simmering in the pot.
“Sorry I'm a bit early,” I say, following her to a spacious great room with long leather couches and a wood-burning stove.
“That's no problem. Sammy is picking up a few things in town. She should be back any minute.”
“Hi, Coach Brady.” Lara waves vigorously from the back of the room, then disappears around a corner.
“She's doing her homework so she can get screen time.” Ellen sets her turquoise blue focus on me. “I hear you played baseball for the Sharks.”
We sit on leather couches opposite each other, and I rehash my time with the Sharks. I’m telling Ellen about what it’s like to bat against her all-time favorite Brewers pitcher when I see movement out of the corner of my eye.
Every cell in my body hitches with awareness. I rise as Sammy walks across the room.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Sammy says, looking between her mother and I. “Mom, you look like you just got you flabbers gasted.”
Ellen thrusts a hand toward me. “Brady was telling me about batting against Dwight. He knows all about his slider.”
“Oh, right,” Sammy says slowly like she’s indulging an enthusiastic child. “Then you must continue.”
“No, he should be talking to you about the fire." Ellen stands. "We’ll have more Dwight discussion over dinner. You are staying for dinner, aren’t you?”
I glance over at Sammy. She looks surprised by the invitation. “Yes, you should stay.” Her cheeks darken. Is that shyness? Excitement? “We’d love to have you.”
“Well, thanks.” I say and return to my place on the couch, feeling pretty pleased with myself.
Sammy sits on the same couch as me, farther away than we sat last weekend on the porch swing. I’ve relived that night a thousand times, thinking about the incidental touches while we were dancing and how happy she looked. It was hands down the best night I’ve had since moving to Whispering Pines.
I get it. We’re friends. She’s going through a rough time and doesn’t have the bandwidth for more than friends.
But I can’t let go of the attraction. I want to be near her, helping her, keeping her and Lara safe. The idea of responding to messages on dating apps makes me want to run for the hills. Right now, there’s only Sammy.
Maybe she won’t send me packing if I shoot my shot? Who better to hang out with than a fireman when the danger in your life is fire-related?
I pull out the tablet and show her the grainy black and white video of the arson suspect. “Does anything about this person look familiar?”
“Nothing.”
“The sheriff, Jasper, doesn't think the fire is the work of a serial arsonist, the kind of guy who has a compulsion to set fires. He thinks this was carried out by someone who was a novice. He also thought this person seemed angry.” I say the last word gently.
I'm walking a fine line here. I don't want to alarm Sammy. I also don't want to minimize the threat. “Jasper thinks you and Lara should spend some time at your parents’ place. We have to consider that the arsonist targeted the B&B because the property belongs to you.”
“Who would do that? I can’t imagine anyone doing it. I haven’t had any resistance from anywhere to my purchase of the property or the plans for the renovations.”
I nod. “We agree there isn’t direct evidence. But for your safety, we have to advise you to consider the possibility.”
Sammy looks around the great room. Outside the forest is pitch black. Someone could lurk there, watching through the row of windows facing the dense trees. Creepy and unsafe. She shouldn’t be here. But is her parents’ house any better?
“We have a top-notch alarm system in the house. Isn't that enough? I don’t want Lara to get upset. I told her the B&B fire is a crime, and the police are looking for the person who did it. If she thinks this person could come after her, she couldn’t handle it.”
Sammy chews on her bottom lip. "I don't want to take any chances, of course. What if Mom and Dad came over and stayed with us for a few days? I can come up with something to tell Lara about why her grandparents are here. Would that be okay?”
“I think it would be.”
“Good.” Sammy sighs. “I don’t think I’m being rash in staying here. If someone was after me, this person would’ve made threats against me.”
“We’re thinking the same thing. That's why we're not insisting that you leave. Just that you take precautions.”
Sammy stands. “How about you and Lara fix up some garlic bread for dinner? That's her specialty. And I'll have a chat with Mom about staying over.”
“Sounds good," I say, standing. "I love garlic bread.”
“I hope that’s an emphasis on the garlic, because Lara loves to pile it on.”
Lara slumps in her chair. “A bath? But I want to stay up and talk to everyone.”
“Come with me,” Ellen says, holding out her hand. “I’ll take you upstairs.”
“Go ahead,” Sammy says. “Mommy will be up as soon as I say goodnight to Brady.”
“Okay, fine. Goodnight, Coach Brady. I’ll see you at T-ball.” She wriggles out of her chair.
“Actually, I’m on firehouse duty this weekend, so I won’t be able to coach.”
“Then who’s going to be our coach?” Lara pouts.
“Jake will handle coaching duties. I’ll be back the following Saturday. We have a game that day. Our last of the season.”
“Oooh. Do you think I’ll get to play?”
I nod. “You’ll definitely get to play.”
“Yay.” She does a little dance.
“Bath time,” Ellen says.
Sammy and I clear the dishes from the table. She stands by the sink and hands me items for loading the dishwasher. We work silently, our fingers grazing and dishes clanging. Lara and Ellen’s laughter echoes through the house while they horse around in the bathroom.
It’s a cozy, comfortable silence. Is it time for me to suggest we go out, get a coffee, spend time together the two of us? Is that something friends do? We are friends, right?
She rinses off a large bowl and hands it over. “I talked to Mom, and she’s going to spend the night tonight and tomorrow.” She picks up a water glass and stops before placing it in my hand. “After that, my ex, Mark, will be here.”
This is the first I’ve heard of Mark. I take the glass from her hand. Suddenly, I feel irrationally betrayed by none other than myself. All the attraction really was only on my end. Something I made up out of my own desperation.
Her ex is staying in her home. What kind of relationship is this? Some Southern California half-in, half-out of the marriage bed?
She hands me a bunch of silverware for the dishwasher basket. “Mark has been upset about the fire, and he misses Lara. She doesn’t know he’s coming. We’ve kept it a surprise. She’s going to be over the moon.”
“She must miss her father.”
“He and Lara are very close.” She wipes down the area around the sink. “We separated when she was three. She has no memory of us living together as a family, but we’ve been good about doing the holidays together and all her school events.
“Lara will be with him for Christmas this year. I’ll probably join them in LA for a few days.” She shrugs, then lets out a dry laugh. “He’s allergic to Whispering Pines.”
I close the dishwasher. “That’s hard to imagine.”
“He’s only been here a few times. I have about twenty cousins and aunts and uncles and all their families who live within a few hours of Whispering Pines. Visits can be overwhelming. Mark’s used to things being quieter, more laid back. He and I come from different worlds.” She laughs softly.
“He’s a good dad to Lara. If he had his way we’d have moved to Santa Barbara not Whispering Pines. I was looking at a place there for the digital detox retreat. I found one that was desert-beautiful, but the acreage was significantly less.”
It sounds like Papa Mark didn't want them leaving LA. Maybe the divorce wasn't his idea? Maybe he’s lobbying to get his family back?
Would he have started the fire? Somehow sneaked over to Bearclaw Lake and set the blaze? He’d have to be pretty psycho to do that. I don't think Sammy would marry someone that psycho. Or allow Lara to have a relationship with someone like that.
She places the towel next to the sink. “I feel guilty about Lara being away from Mark. I also think he’s going to date more seriously now that we’re gone. I’ve got no doubt he’ll marry again. Have more children.”
She shifts her gaze to the side like she’s looking for a thought that keeps escaping her. “I also know he cares, even if he wasn’t a decent husband. He’s already got a bunch of contractors lined up to bid on a new building for the retreat. He’s trying to be helpful.”
Pausing, she leans back against the counter. “Divorce is one of those things you never think is going to happen to you. Then you’re in your lawyer's office telling her you can't be with someone who broke his vows and cannot fathom the impact of his actions.”
The story is falling into place. Her ex was a cheater. Now he’s trying to atone for his sins. He must be thrilled he gets to stay with her and Lara while he helps her rebuild the retreat. What a perfect opportunity for him to win her back. “It’s good he can come here and spend time with Lara.”
She nods.
The sound of bathwater draining through the pipes fills the silence. “I’d better get going so you can tuck Lara in.”
“Yeah, it’s getting to be bedtime.”
I grab the tablet and my jacket. Sammy meets me at the front door. “You make a pretty mean garlic bread,” she says after I step onto the front porch.
“Lara was very particular about the order of ingredients.”
“Butter, garlic, olive oil, then cheese.”
I find myself laughing at her perfect imitation of Lara.
She looks down at the wooden porch slats, then up at me. “We’d love to have you back for dinner.”
“Sure, I’d like that,” I say automatically. But would I? Staying away from Sammy is starting to seem like the best way going forward. “I’ll see you around.” I wave as I head toward the Telluride.
“Goodnight, Brady.”
“You too, Sammy.” From the corner of my eye, I catch her watching me get into the SUV and pull out of her driveway.
I’ve got to stop being hung up on her. Whatever attraction exists between us is no match for what she’s got with her ex. He’s coming to stay with her. He’s helping her rebuild.
She doesn’t need me. I’ve got to make myself scarce in Sammy Lane’s world.