“Sure, why do you think she was still a teller after all these years? Because she was too much of a blabbermouth and drunk to move up. If I were the cops, I’d be looking at some of the folks she’d been badmouthing. Not Tyler, who moved on from their brief relationship years ago.”
The conversation shifted, and Tyler began explaining his side of the story directly to Brooke.
When he was finished, he swallowed hard. “The fire marshal said it started in the kitchen. A problem with the gas stove that ignited and exploded. Completely accidental.”
“But people suspected you anyway,” Brooke said softly.
“Some people. Deputy Boverman especially. He was new to the force and eager to prove himself. He decided I was guilty and kept pushing, even after the investigation cleared me.” Tyler met her eyes. “I left town because I couldn’t stand the suspicion. Couldn’t stand all the memories and being in a town where everyone looked at me and wondered.”
“Why come back?” Brooke asked.
“Because nowhere else felt like home. I moved around for years trying to find somewhere I fit. But I kept thinking about Basin County. About the mountains I grew up hiking. About people like Phil who believed in me.” Tyler’s gaze held hers. “I thought maybe enough time had passed. Maybe I could start over.”
“And then Sheila died,” Phil said quietly.
“And then Sheila died.” Tyler’s frustration was evident. “I’m being framed. I don’t know by who or why, but someone wants me to take the fall for this.”
Brooke processed everything she’d heard. Phil’s unwavering faith in Tyler. Tyler’s explanation of the fire, which matched what she’d read in the articles but carried the weight of lived experience. The timeline of his relationship with Sheila—so long ago it seemed absurd to hold a grudge.
The evidence against Tyler didn’t add up. None of it was proof of murder.
The people who didn’t like Sheila made much more sense as being the culprits.
Someone could be setting him up. But who? And why?
“I believe you,” Brooke said. And that scared her more than if she didn’t.
Tyler’s expression shifted. “You do?”
“I think so. Yes.” She looked at her brother. “Phil’s judgment matters to me. And your explanation makes sense.”
“Thank you.” Tyler’s voice was rough with emotion. “You have no idea what that means.”
They talked for another hour, going over details and discussing possibilities. Phil threw out names of people who might have had issues with Sheila: two ex-husbands, people at the bank, people from the bars in town. Tyler admitted he’d been gone too long to know who she’d had conflicts with recently.
Eventually, Phil needed to wrap up a print job that was due the next morning. Brooke and Tyler walked out together, the early evening sun warm on their faces.
At her SUV, they paused. The awkwardness was back, that awareness of each other that made conversation difficult.
“Thank you for listening,” Tyler said. “For believing me.”
“I’m not sure I have a choice,” Brooke admitted. “Everything about this feels wrong. The timing, the evidence, the way Deputy Boverman is so determined to convict you.”
“He’s been following me,” Tyler said. “Ever since that night I spent in jail. Watching me. Trying to get me on something. Even a traffic stop is my guess.”
“That’s not right.”
“It’s legal enough.” Tyler shoved his hands in his pockets. “I appreciate you giving me a chance to explain. You didn’t have to.”
Brooke knew she should say goodbye and drive away, keep her distance until this was all sorted out. But instead, she said, “Stop by the coffee shop tomorrow. At closing time.”
Tyler’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure?”
No. She wasn’t sure at all. But the invitation was out there now, and she couldn’t take it back. Shewouldn’ttake it back.
“I’m sure,” she said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt. “I usually take the closing shift on Tuesday. Can you be there at six?”
“Okay.” Tyler’s smile transformed his face. “I’ll be there.”
