Chapter Twenty-Six
After leavingthe chief and the site of Salem’s memorial, Grady hiked down the ridge and circumvented the burn area. The charred remains of someone’s home lay covered with dust and ashes—a relatively fresh burn site. Blackened garbage cans and the hulk of a wood burning stove stood testament to another destroyed life. Grady poked around the ruins and gaped at the twisted bars of a large bird cage. The ashes had blown away, but small bone chips and the remnants of the metal food and water bowls showed the demise of someone’s belovedpet.
Bits and pieces of crime scene tape were scattered around the foundation, leading him to believe this had beenarson.
A footstep startledGrady.
“Place has been picked clean.” A man with a scraggly beard and dusty clothes leaned against what was left of thechimney.
“I’m not looking for anything,” Grady said. “Any ideas of what happenedhere?”
“Some crazy person’s burning down the houses of the firefighters,” the mansaid.
“You mean the guys at the smokejumpcamp?”
“Yep. This was Jake Collins’ place. Burned down three weeksago.”
“I know Jake,” Grady said. “I was one of the smokejumpers. Who else lost ahome?”
The man scratched the back of his neck. “You know the chief? His place burned down a month ago, and six weeks ago, it was Duane Washington’s cabin. Before that, Tim Olson’s trailer burned to theground.”
“The police catchanyone?”
“Nope,” the man said. “I’ve a ranch on the other side of the creek, and we’re setting up patrols to protect our property. Anyway, the fires seemed to have stopped. Fingerscrossed.”
“Do you have any ideas who’s behind allthis?”
The man shrugged. “Could be insurance fraud. Maybe money’s tight and these guys want to cashout.”
“Not the chief,” Grady said. “He’s owned his home since wayback.”
“Maybe it’s bad luck, but I’m telling you strange things have been going on thissummer.”
“Like what?” The hair on the back of Grady’s neckbristled.
“Stuff missing, pets getting lost.” The rancher cracked his knuckles. “Someone cut the barbed wire at O’Hara’s place and let his bull out. Another neighbor had his car burned in the middle of his driveway. Like I said, we’re setting up a patrol around ourproperty.”
“Good idea,” Grady said. “Summer brings out the gremlins and smokedemons.”
“Tourists and vagrants.” The man scratched his beard. “Anyway, whatever you’re looking for, it isn’t here. Investigators combed through everything looking forclues.”
“Have they found anything that didn’tbelong?”
“No, but like I said, the place is picked clean. Someone’s removing pieces of scrap metal and selling them to a bunch of rich hippies going to that Burning Man Festival out in thedesert.”
“They catch anyone?” Gradyasked.
The man only shook his head. “Frankly, there are too many fires this year all over the west for anyone to keep track and pay attention to. That’s why we’re setting up our ownpatrols.”
“Good thinking.” Grady figured he’d hit a dead end. It was time to put Salem Pryde and her brand of chaos in the grave and head back to the two people who really mattered—Linx andJessie.
If Salem’s remains were out there somewhere, may she rest inpeace.
* * *
Aday went by,and another, but no one heard from Grady. His family had been by, and Linx had shown them Grady’s homesite. They’d scoured it for clues and found nothing. Linx should have given them Grady’s phone—that would have been the right thing to do, but somehow, she couldn’t part fromit.
Instead, she would pull it out like an addicting video game and stare at the text messages popping through the lock screen. She couldn’t concentrate on her work, and papers piled up at herdesk.
