“Did he share his concerns with you?”
“Some. He was my mentor, but he was also protective. Said there were dangerous people on this island, that asking the wrong questions could get someone hurt.” Sutton’s expression grew troubled. “I was twenty-four, fresh out of seminary. George thought he was shielding me from how deep the corruption went.”
“And you think that’s what got him killed?” I asked.
Sutton nodded slowly. “George was getting close to exposing them. And Ruby—poor Ruby knew what George had discovered. That knowledge made her a liability too.”
“And Jane Sutherland figured it out anyway,” I said.
“Jane was a journalist. She knew how to follow paper trails, how to ask questions that seemed innocent but weren’t.” He looked between us. “Finding her at the motel…it feels like the past refusing to stay buried. Everyone knew that’s where George and Ruby went. It was the worst-kept secret on Grimm Island. “
We talked for another twenty minutes, Sutton sharing memories of the church, the tensions he’d sensed but not understood, the fear that had settled over the congregation after the murders. By the time we parted ways in the parking lot, the sun had set completely, leaving Harbor Street painted in streetlight and shadow.
“Interesting man,” Dash said as we climbed into his SUV.
“Very,” I agreed, though something about the conversation nagged at me. “He knew more than he was saying.”
“I bet most pastors know things that would make your hair curl,” he said. “No one keeps secrets better than pastors and cops.”
The drive back toward The Perfect Steep took us through quiet residential streets where porch lights were beginning to flicker on. Families settling in for the evening, children being called inside, the island’s peaceful rhythm continuing despite the violence that had shattered it that afternoon.
“Don’t forget to drop me at the tea shop,” I said. “My car is still parked in the lot.”
“I remember,” Dash said, his voice husky with exhaustion. “Though I was hoping to walk you to your door.”
My lips twitched with amusement. “You still could. If you follow me back.”
“Good idea. I want to make sure you get inside okay. Not that I’m doubting Chowder’s security measures. He’s very thorough.”
“He’ll appreciate the compliment,” I said. “Though he’s probably rather put out with me considering how much time I’ve been away lately.”
We were still three blocks away when we saw the smoke.
“That’s coming from Harbor Street,” Dash said, his foot finding the accelerator. My heart was already racing before we turned the corner and saw the fire trucks, their red-and-blue lights painting the buildings in urgent, dancing colors. The Perfect Steep stood intact, thank God, but smoke was billowing from the back of the building, dark against the evening sky.
“The back room,” I breathed, understanding flooding through me like ice water. “Someone set fire to the back room.”
We pulled up behind the fire trucks as Captain Dozier approached, his face grim beneath the brim of his helmet.
“Mabel,” he said, relief evident in his voice. “Thank God you weren’t inside. Looks like someone broke in through the rear entrance, doused the back room with accelerant, then lit it up.”
“How bad?” I asked, though I was almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Could have been worse. A group of people out for a walk saw the smoke and called it in quick. We got here before it spread to the main shop.” He gestured toward the building. “Back room’s a total loss, though. Everything in there is gone. And it’s a mess. I’m sorry.”
Everything. The murder board, the evidence copies, all our carefully organized research. Days of work reduced to ash and smoke.
“You’ll want to call your insurance company,” Captain Dozier continued. “But you’ll need to close down for a few days until the arson investigation is finished.”
Dash was already on his phone, calling for a crime-scene team. I stood staring at the building that had been my sanctuary, my livelihood, now violated and partially destroyed because we’d gotten too close to something someone wanted to keep buried.
“Mabel!”
I turned to see Walt jogging toward us, his face flushed with exertion and worry. Behind him came Deidre, moving as quickly as her sensible shoes would allow.
“We came as soon as we heard on the police scanner,” Walt said, breathing hard. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. But the back room—all the evidence.”
