“You don’t think maybe he got nervous watching me poke around out here?” Michael asked.

“He’s the one who called you,” she reminded him.

Michael nodded, though he didn’t look completely satisfied. “So he did. Where did he go to do this checking?”

“I’m not sure,” she said truthfully.

“Well, I’m going over to have another word with the fire chief.” His somber gaze locked with hers. “I’d suggest you track down your friend and get him back here, because if I have to go hunting for him, he’s going to pop right back to the top of my list of suspects.”

She watched as Michael walked away, then turned back to Hank. “You heard?”

He nodded.

“We have to warn him, Hank.”

The young hand sighed heavily and started the truck. “Let’s go.”

Karen climbed back in and patted his knee. “Don’t worry. You’re doing the right thing.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. It’ll be so much better if I wring his neck, instead of waiting for the sheriff to do it.”

Chapter Fifteen

The minute Grady saw Jesse Oldham’s car parked behind his barn, instinct told him that it was the same car he’d spotted earlier leaving Karen’s. Even though it was cold enough to cool an engine quickly, he touched the hood. Was there a lingering trace of heat? Or was that merely wishful thinking after all this time?

“What do you think?” Dooley asked.

“Nothing yet. I’m keeping an open mind,” Grady insisted as he opened the unlocked car and sniffed the air. This time he knew it wasn’t his imagination playing tricks when he caught a whiff of gasoline. Just in case, he called Dooley closer, then stepped aside. “Lean in there. What do you smell?”

“Gasoline, plain as day,” Dooley said, his blue eyes snapping with indignation. “I’m gonna murder that man with my bare hands.”

“Not without my help,” Grady said grimly.

They stalked across the yard. When Dooley would have politely knocked on the fancy oak door, Grady shouldered it open, shouting for Jesse as he entered the dimly lit foyer.

“What the hell’s the ruckus?” Jesse demanded sleepily, all but stumbling from a room on the left where the flickering of pale light suggested he’d been comfortably watching TV. For just an instant, alarm flared in his eyes when he spotted Grady.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Can’t a neighbor pay a friendly visit?” Grady asked.

“You just about broke my front door down. What’s friendly about that? Besides, you’re not my neighbor. If there’s any justice in this world, you never will be.”

Grady regarded him silently for a full minute, watching his nervousness increase. “Oh?” he said finally. “Why is that? Surely you don’t think I care whether there’s a burned out house on the land I’ve had my eye on.”

Just as Grady had expected, Jesse didn’t show so much as a hint of surprise at the announcement. “You don’t seem shocked,” Grady noted.

“About the fire?” Jesse said with a shrug. “Why would I be? The police scanner’s been blaring the news for the past couple of hours now. Never heard such a commotion.”

That was one explanation, Grady thought, impressed by the man’s quick thinking. “I imagine it has,” he agreed. “But I’m thinking there might be another reason you know all about Karen losing her home tonight.”

Jesse regarded him defiantly. “Such as?”

“Being there when it started,” Grady suggested. “That was you who almost ran me off the road tonight, wasn’t it?”

Jesse’s expression faltered just a bit at the accusation. “I wasn’t anywhere near the place. I’ve been in there right smack in front of the TV all night long.”

“And your wife can vouch for that?”

“She went to bed early. Had one of her migraines. Started round about supper time.”

“What about Kenny?” Dooley asked. “Where’s he been tonight?”

“I don’t keep track of my son’s comings and goings. He’s a teenager. They roam all over the place. I know for certain that he’s in his room right now. Heard him come in.”

“When was that?” Grady asked. If Kenny Oldham had returned at any time in the past two hours, that would leave him wide-open as a suspect. Jesse seemed to be struggling to do the math.

“Beats me,” he said at last. “I fell asleep.” His smile suggested he was proud of his ingenuity.

“Really? Yet you heard all about the fire on your scanner?”

Jesse nodded, that smile fading into feigned sympathy. “Felt real bad about it, too.”

“But not bad enough to get your son and go over there to help out. You are a volunteer firefighter, aren’t you?” Grady guessed, knowing that most of the men around here were. At the very least, they pitched in to help save a neighbor’s property when a tragedy like this struck.

“Nope,” Jesse said, tapping his chest. “Bad ticker. Used to help out, but no more.”

Grady was about to demand that Jesse call his son down to be questioned, when the front door burst open again and Karen came in, trailed by an apologetic-looking Hank.

“Sorry,” Hank said. “There’s a real good reason we’re here.”

Grady scowled at the pair of them, but his gaze rested longest on Karen. There were dark smudges under her too-bright eyes and her complexion was still very pale.

“What might that be?” he asked.

Karen looked from him to Jesse and back again. Whatever had brought her running over here seemed to have been forgotten. She faced her longtime neighbor.

“Did you do it?” she asked bluntly.

Jesse returned her gaze uneasily. “Like I told your friends here, I haven’t left the house all night.”

“Unfortunately, he’s not quite as capable of accounting for his son’s whereabouts,” Grady said.

Karen looked shocked. “Kenny? He used to sit in my kitchen and eat cookies while I visited with his mother. Surely he wouldn’t set my house on fire.”

“He would if he was real anxious to get his daddy’s approval,” Dooley said, speaking up for the first time since Grady’s interrogation had begun in earnest. “That boy’s always been crying out for some man to look at him like he’s worth something. Jesse here’s been too busy to give him the time of day, since he’s not big enough or strong enough to play football, isn’t that right, Jesse?”

Even as Dooley made the accusation, Grady thought he saw movement on the stairs. He glanced up and caught sight of Kenny, hovering on the landing. Given what Dooley had just said about the teen’s relationship with his father, he felt a stirring of pity for him.

“Come on down here, son,” Grady said.

Kenny crept down the stairs, his terrified gaze locked on his father. As Dooley had said, he was slight for sixteen, his body not yet filled out. At the foot of the steps, he instinctively edged closer to Karen. She reached out and took his hand, then gave it a squeeze.

“Kenny, did you start that fire?” she asked, her voice filled with hurt.

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes, but he nodded, his gaze never leaving her face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know it would be so bad. I swear I didn’t. I just thought it would scare you, the way Daddy said. He said we had to have that land or we’d never be certain whether our herd would have water. Mama argued with him. She told him you would never cut us off, but he said you’d be selling out soon enough and the new owner might not be nearly so concerned with an old piece of paper drawn up between friends. It wasn’t even notarized.”

Even as she held the boy’s hand, Karen scowled at his father. “You coward,” she accused. “You didn’t even have the guts to do the job yourself. You counted on Kenny’s need to please you. What kind of father are you? You’re not even a man. You’re scum. And if you were worried about those water rights before, you’d better be on your knees praying now, because I’ll see you in hell before I ever let your herd near that creek again, paper or no paper. I’ll find some way to see that it’s voided.”