Chapter 7
By the time Aiden had bagged the padlock as evidence, the sun had risen.
Standing by his car, he stripped off the latex gloves.
After shoving them into the passenger side door pocket, he grabbed his phone and found Callum’s contact information.
He placed a call to his oldest brother’s personal number.
“I figured that you’d sleep in today,” Cal said, answering the call after the first ring. In the background, Aiden could hear the staticky voice from a police radio and the whine of an engine.
“You’re one to talk. Sounds like you’re already at work.”
“If anyone deserves a late morning, little brother, it’s you.”
“I’m at the Five Steers Ranch already,” he said, resting his arms on the roof of his car.
“I found something suspicious with the fire.” For the next few minutes, he filled Cal in on what had been found.
The burn mark on the ground. The grommets, that looked like they’d come from a tarp or some other kind of cloth.
He ended by saying, “The thing that worries me the most is that a newer looking lock had been placed on the door leading to the adjacent room. It’s the same room where Lucy was getting the helium tanks. ”
Cal cursed. “That means we aren’t just dealing with arson, but attempted murder.”
It was exactly what Aiden had been thinking.
“I’m not too far away from the ranch,” said his older brother. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Aiden pulled his travel mug from the cup holder and took a sip of coffee. Even now, the brew was still hot. As he took his second swallow, Cal’s black and white cruiser crested the rise. He set his coffee back in the holder and waited as his brother parked next to the red sedan.
“You weren’t joking about being nearby,” he said as Cal opened the door.
His brother was dressed in the dark brown uniform of the Stark County sheriff.
His hair was slicked back, still wet from his morning shower.
A gold nameplate on his breast pocket read C.
Colton. Callum slammed his door shut. “I was on my way to Mom’s,” he said.
After the divorce, Emily had bought a condo twenty miles outside of Red Grove.
The Five Steers Ranch was in between the two towns.
Callum continued, “She mentioned that her dishwasher was busted when I took her home last night. I was on my way to see if it can be fixed.”
Aiden said, “Yesterday evening, she asked me to stop by.”
“Mom mentioned that when I dropped her off last night, too. But I offered to stop by her place before work. We both figured you’d take a day to recover.”
“We see how well that worked out,” he said, joking.
Cal chuckled. “So, show me what you found from the fire.”
Aiden removed all three evidence bags that were tucked into his kit.
He placed them in a row on the hood of his car.
“I found this grommet where the fire burned the hottest. Looks to me like it might’ve been part of a tarp.
Certain fabrics make for perfect fuel—especially something old and maybe dusty.
” He pointed to the next bag. “This came from a scorch mark on the ground. I want it tested to see if an accelerant was used. Same for the grommet.” Finally, there was the lock and latch.
“You can tell that the lock is a lot newer than the latch.”
“Yeah,” said Callum. “They might not be from the same century.”
“What are the chances we can get something useful off the lock, like fingerprints?”
“You said that the door fell onto the lock?”
Aiden nodded. “When the helium tanks blew, they knocked the door over.”
“That’s our first piece of good news. The wood could have protected the lock from the water and the flames. If our luck holds, there might be fingerprints.”
“Might.” Aiden shook his head.
“Might is better than not at all.”
His brother was right. “What happens now?”
“I’ll send everything to the lab in Bismarck.
” Cal pulled a pen from his shirt pocket.
He wrote his name on each of the evidence bags, along with the time.
It was another link in the chain of evidence.
“I have an officer taking some things up later today. I need to get these back to the office before she leaves.”
“Thanks,” said Aiden. “And don’t worry about Mom. I’ll stop by later today and take care of her dishwasher.”
“Remember to take care of yourself, too.”
“Will do.”
As Cal got into his car and drove away, Aiden glanced at the Harris homestead.
For a moment, all the windows were dark.
Then, a single light shone from behind a set of sheer curtains on the second floor.
Someone was home and awake. Last night, he had promised to tell Lucy everything he knew about the fire.
The thing was, he hadn’t imagined delivering the news that someone wanted her dead.
Lucy hadn’t slept past 5:00 a.m. in the morning in years. The fact that she hadn’t woken up until after 6:00 a.m. said a lot. She was exhausted from last night’s fire. She was tired of making ends meet. But what Lucy knew most about sleeping late was that she was already behind on her chores.
Because of the fair, all the horses and cattle were still in a higher pasture.
Sure, they were able to graze, but she needed to supplement their diets and make sure there was enough clean water.
That meant filling barrels with oats and water.
Then, she had to get everything secured in the bed of the truck and, finally, take it up to where the animals were being kept.
Most days, she was already done with the morning feeding by now.
After rising from bed, she dragged a brush through her hair.
Using an elastic band, Lucy pulled her tresses into a tail.
Her flannel and jeans from last night still lay on the floor.
She picked up the shirt, but the stench of burned wood clung to the fabric.
Tossing it aside, she pulled a clean shirt from a drawer and a pair of jeans from the closet.
She found a pair of clean socks and padded down the hallway.
As she descended the stairs, she noticed the complete silence. The darkness. The lack of smells.
There was no music coming from the kitchen. Nor was her grandfather singing along, making up his own lyrics when he didn’t know the words. There wasn’t the sound of eggs frying or the coffeepot hissing while dropping the last of the brew into the pot.
“Grandpa Rusty?” she called out. “You there?”
Nothing.
She stood on the bottom step, her hand resting on the newel post. Turning to look up the steps, she tried again. “Grandpa Rusty? Everything okay?”
There was still no answer.
His words from last night came to her. I’m not going to be here forever, Lucy.
Had her grandfather sensed that something was wrong? Her throat closed. The metallic taste of panic flooded her mouth.
“Grandpa Rusty?” she called out again, this time climbing the stairs. She flipped the switch as she passed, filling the hallway with light. “Grandpa Rusty.”
His bedroom door was open. Blankets were rumpled. The mattress was empty. She held on to the jamb, her legs suddenly too weak to hold her upright. In a moment, she understood. Her grandfather had risen early and gone to take care of the livestock.
It was a sweet gesture, but four years earlier, they’d traded roles. Lucy took on all the outdoor chores and Rusty started taking care of the house and tending the small garden her grandmother had planted thirty years earlier.
Turning in the hallway, she went back down the stairs. She flipped on the light in the kitchen. The wooden cabinets, made by her great-grandfather, gleamed in the overhead light. A slip of paper sat in the middle of the table. It was a note from Grandpa Rusty.
Gone to take care of the cattle and horses. Make some coffee and relax today.
She had no intention of sitting around. The ranch owned a four-wheeler, and she could meet him in the pasture.
Walking down the hallway, she stopped by the front door.
Her work boots sat on a mat. She slipped her feet inside the shoes and opened the door.
A man stood on her stoop, his hand lifted.
Her heart slammed into her chest. She let out a yelp.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Aiden let his hand drop to his side. “I was just about to knock.”
“I just didn’t expect to see you, is all.” Her runaway pulse started to slow.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked. “I wanted to chat with you about what I found.”
Stepping back, she opened the door wider. “Come in.” And then, “I promised you coffee. Let me get a pot started.” Lucy kicked off her work boots and returned to the kitchen.
Aiden followed her down the short hallway. He stepped into the kitchen and squinted his eyes.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“After last night, I’m a little sensitive to lights. It gives me headaches.”
She used the switch to turn off the overhead light. “Better?”
“Much,” he said, “although I hate to make you stand around in the dark.”
Sunlight filtered in through the linen curtains, filling the room in a warm haze. “It’s not a problem,” she said. “Kinda cozy.”
He smiled. “It is.”
Good Lord. Did he have a dimple?
Lucy drew in a shaking breath. “Can I get you anything for your pain? I’ve got ibuprofen. Acetaminophen. Aspirin.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all.”
“Ranch life comes with its share of bumps and bruises.” She moved to the counter and opened the medicine cabinet. “Which one?”
“I’m good. I took something before I left.”
She shut the cabinet door. “Coffee, then?”
“Coffee would be great.”
“Have a seat.” She nodded toward the table. “I’ll get a pot started.”
Aiden dropped into a chair. She collected everything she needed to make a pot of coffee without saying a word.
But as she pressed the filter into place and scooped in the grounds, she was keenly aware of two things.
First, Aiden Colton was even more handsome in the light of day than he’d been at night.
And second, her grandfather’s words came to her again.