Chasing Shadows(38)

As soon as the fire was out and my barn—and Juliette’s new home—had been reduced to smoldering embers, I tore off up the driveway. I was two-thirds of the way there when it hit me—the scent of cooked meat, of burnt flesh. I knew in my heart that all but the horses had been killed, and when I came abreast of the house, I fell hard to my knees.

The barn was, as Harry had reported, a total loss. Three of the four corners still stood, but the entire roof of the structure had caved in. Broken timbers blackened with soot poked up here and there, and the immediate area of the backyard was full of cough-inducing smoke. My eyes stung and I vainly tried to blink away tears that I could not say were solely a result of the ash and smoke surrounding me. Feeling broken inside, I threw back my head and screamed, conveying in one long, loud wail all of my heartbreak and outrage.

Firefighters walking around me were gathering up their equipment, and through the white noise that now filled my ears I heard one of them say, “Smells like a damn barbecue out here.”

Anger flared white-hot, and I was on him faster than it took to take one breath, smashing my fist into his face and shattering his nose. Blood gushed over my hand and my fangs dropped as we fell to the ground, and had Juliette not grabbed hold of me, I’d have broken the strictest of vampire laws by feeding on the insensitive prick in front of a hundred witnesses. With her superior shifter strength she was able to haul me up but she needed Mark’s help to hold me back. I struggled for a few minutes, growling incoherently through clenched teeth until I was spent as suddenly as I had been enraged. Drawing my canines back up, I sagged against Mark’s chest and sobbed.



*****



“Can you tell me where you were prior to your arrival on scene, Ms. Caldwell?”

Mark and I were seated at the kitchen table as was the arson investigator. He held a little notebook in one hand and a pen in the other; I held Moe and Cissy, cuddling the still-shaking Chihuahuas to my chest as if I were afraid to let them go. Juliette stood at my left shoulder, a hand resting upon it. I was sure the gesture was meant to be comforting, but I was not remiss to the fact that she was there to restrain me in case I lost control again. Mark had scooted his chair as close to me as he could get, and my head was resting in his shoulder.

“We were on the road. We’d just come back from a trip to Ireland,” I said absently.

“May I ask why you were out of the country?”

“Is that really pertinent to your investigation?” Mark countered.

The other man looked at him. “I’m only trying to be thorough, Sgt. Singleton.”

When we’d identified ourselves, Mark had shown his military I.D., an “Inactive” copy of which he carried in his wallet. As such, arson investigator Lt. Parks had taken to addressing him by his Marine Corps rank—that they were in the company of a war veteran seemed to appease the firefighters, who were naturally aggravated that I’d attacked one of them.

“We went to see a family friend. We’d heard she was ill,” I said, replying to his question. “We were only gone for the day, but I had to go. She’s very dear to me.”

Not a total lie, I mused, as Parks made notes.

“What time did you return from your trip?”

I looked at Mark, suddenly unable to recall the time we had landed. “It was around eleven-thirty local time, maybe a little later. I’m sure you can check with airport traffic control—we came in on a private plane,” he said.

Parks nodded. “And Mr. Harry Mitchell, your neighbor, called you at what time?”

I reached for my cell phone and realized I didn’t have it. Juliette fished it out of one of her pockets, pulled up the last call time, and turned the phone so that Parks could see it on the screen. “We were on the road coming from the airport when Mr. Mitchell called,” she told him.

Parks wrote down the information. “Ms. Caldwell, do you trust your neighbor?”

Indignation rose. “Of course I trust Harry! Why else would I have allowed him or his sons access to my property? The Mitchells are wonderful people, a good family. Farmers take care of each other, Lieutenant.”

“You don’t think the Mitchell boys would do something like this, do you?”

“Absolutely not!” I said tartly. “None of them would—I told you, farmers take care of each other. Harry’s been especially friendly since the pig I sold him a couple years ago won prizes at the county and state fairs last year.”

Parks’ eyebrows rose. “How friendly are you with Mr. Mitchell?”

This time it was Mark who answered indignantly. “Just what the hell are you getting at, Lt. Parks? She’s already told you she doesn’t think any of the Mitchells would do this to her.”

“Jealous men do crazy things, Sergeant. When did the two of you start seeing each other?” Parks said.

“I moved in two days ago,” Mark said through clenched teeth. “But we’ve known each other for a long time.”

“How long is a long time?”

“Is that really any of your business?” Juliette asked.

“I am trying to establish motive here. For someone to release four animals but leave twenty-nine others to die strikes me as the act of someone with a lot of anger—anger directed at Ms. Caldwell,” Lt. Parks said calmly. “Who would have cause to do that? Do you have any enemies, ex-boyfriends?”

“Twenty-eight, actually,” Mark said with a glance at me. “We sold a pig to her brother Friday afternoon.”

I wondered for a moment why he had said that, and then I realized: Harry must have told one of the firefighters how many animals should be in the barn besides the horses. When the mess was cleaned up, they would only find ten pigs instead of eleven. Sighing, I stroked and kissed the round heads of my dogs, who—although no longer trembling—seemed still reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort offered by my breasts.

“Lt. Parks, until two days ago, I had lived on this farm alone for five years. I haven’t dated in ages, except for Mark. Hell, when he moved in it was originally just to help me out around the farm, but living in such close proximity, we realized there was a lot more between us than just friendship. When his sister told us she needed a place to stay, I offered her the apartment over the barn, where Mark was originally going to live.” I paused for breath, reflected on what I had just said, and judged it fine. It was a closer approximation of the truth than just having said we’d known each other a long time, which by human standards we hadn’t. It bothered me a lot, but I also realized that we were going to have to ask my brother and possibly Mrs. Singleton to lie for us, verifying that Mark and I had known each other for some time.

“I really don’t get out all that much,” I went on. “The farm took up so much of my time. So no, I don’t have any enemies, not that I know of.”

Parks seemed to consider that a moment, then he jotted some more notes down. “What about your family? Mr. Mitchell said you once told him you don’t get along with your dad or your sister.”

For a split second I wanted to throttle Harry Mitchell, but dismissed the thought just as quickly, as Parks was bound to hear the news from someone. “I don’t get on all that well with them, that’s true. But despite the fact that we’re estranged, my father was generous enough to allow us to take his private jet to Ireland yesterday. He even went with us.”

“And your sister?”

I shrugged. “What can I say? We’re sisters who don’t get along,” I replied.

“Would she do something like this?”

I had to laugh. “Evangeline can be a bitch, but she’s a cunning bitch,” I told him honestly. “If she were going to try and get back at me for something, she’d be a lot more subtle than setting my barn on fire. Trust me, Lieutenant, you’re barking up the wrong tree on that one.”

After a moment of silence, Parks looked at me and asked, “Do you have insurance, Ms. Caldwell?”

I knew that, logically, it was a legitimate question—probably even standard procedure. But for goodness’ sake, surely they didn’t think I’d hired someone to burn my barn down for a paltry insurance payment? If I were going to do that, I’d have at least spared the animals, none of whom would have deserved to die for my greed, and I said as much to the arson investigator sitting across from me.

Parks considered that for a moment, then after scribbling yet another series of notes into his notebook he flipped it closed and stood. He slipped the notebook and pen into a pocket with one hand and fetched his wallet with the other, from which he produced a business card.

“Please do not hesitate to call me if you think of anything that might be helpful,” he said, laying the card on the table. “I am sorry for your loss.”

I nodded silently, and Juliette walked with him to the back door. As soon as she had closed it behind him, I stood with the dogs in my arms, saying, “I’m going to bed. Jules, there’s a guest room upstairs you’re welcome to sleep in.”