“Clint.”
Ray’s voice hauled Clint from the past. The smell of smoke lingered in his lungs and the reality tore at his gut. Everything was gone.
“Clint, I have to ask you some questions now.”
He turned to face the other man. Clint looked past him to the road where Emily Wallace’s car still sat.
“Where’s ...” Clint swallowed in an effort to soothe the burn in his throat.
“Officer Fitzpatrick took her to the Valley Inn. She didn’t want to go home.” Ray glanced at the news vans. “I guess she was afraid they would follow her. She doesn’t want her parents upset. We’ll see that her car gets to her later today.” He turned back to Clint. “Why don’t we do this in the barn?”
Suited Clint. He wasn’t going to make this easy for those damned reporters. Ray contacted one of his men via his radio and ordered him to push the media to the opposite side of the road. When Clint and Ray reached the barn, he dropped into a crouch and flipped to a clean page in his notepad. He tucked his flashlight under his arm, directing its beam at the paper.
“Let’s start with what time you came home last night.”
Clint had no idea just how exhausted he was until he sat down on the ground and leaned against the wall. He watched the chaos around his house, the idea of what it all meant startling him all over again. He answered Ray’s questions, provided any additional details he could think of, including the fact that he’d drunk himself into oblivion. Ray chose not to judge, but if he had Clint was too tired to care.
Dawn started its slow creep across the horizon. Pinks and purples streaking the dark sky as the firemen started to pack up their gear. An investigator from the fire marshal’s office would be here later this morning to look for evidence.
Five days. Clint had been released less than a week and already he’d lost everything.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
“Just one more question.” Ray pushed to his feet, stretched, and made a sound that said he was about as exhausted as Clint.
Taking that as his cue, Clint got up, did some stretching of his own. Felt like he’d been sitting there for hours.
Though he’d said he had another question, Ray closed his notepad and stuffed it into his pocket. “Do you think Emily Wallace started this fire?”
Means, opportunity, and motive. It was all there. Anyone who’d sat through Clint’s two trials knew the necessary elements evaluated when considering a crime. Still, he and Ray were talking about Emily Wallace. They both knew she wasn’t capable of anything like this. Clint studied Ray a moment, tried to assess whether he was serious or not.
Evidently taking Clint’s continued silence for a mixed response, Ray went on, “I searched her car, searched the area around it. If she brought any accelerants, there’s no indication. But we’ll look a little closer just to be sure.”
“She didn’t do it.”
“She didn’t?” Ray kept his face clean of whatever he was thinking.
Clint had a feeling Ray was more interested in gauging his reaction to the fire than in determining if Emily Wallace had committed arson.
“I’ll tell you who didn’t do it,” Clint said, deciding that he would just say what was on his mind. “All these good citizens who believe I killed Heather Baker and who want to see justice done.”
Ray didn’t interrupt.
“None of those folks are criminals.” Clint knew criminals. Had spent the last ten years with the worst kind.
“So,” Ray ventured, “what’re you saying?”
This was the kicker. “I’m saying that whoever did this is the person who killed Heather Baker.”
The silence thickened for a handful of seconds that turned into a full minute heavy with tension before Ray reacted. “You can’t know that.”
Clint’s gaze narrowed at the defensive tone. “I know I didn’t kill her.”
More of that throat-grabbing silence.
“You have to let this go, Clint. Things will only get worse if you don’t. We’ve talked about this already. Poking around in the past isgoing to get you nowhere fast. Folks around here have suffered enough. It’s time to move on.”
Maybe it was the total lack of emotion in Ray’s words or the dull, flat look in his eyes, but what he said made Clint sure of one thing. “I will find the truth. No one, not even you, is going to stop me.”
