No One But You (Silver Springs #2)(55)

Dawson could only imagine how hard it had to be for her to hear those words. He’d never forget the night he was released from jail and came home to find the damage that’d confronted him. As if returning to the place where his parents had been murdered wasn’t difficult enough, he’d been greeted by that graffiti: Murderer. The sight of it had felt like a kick in the gut. And then he’d had to walk through the house, through all the trash people had thrown in it, to find the damage to his folks’ pictures and furniture and such.

“How’s Maude’s house?” Sadie asked.

“It’s fine,” Thomas replied. “The fire didn’t reach that far.”

“I’m so glad. And no one was hurt?”

“Not physically, no. Maude will have to file a claim with her homeowner’s insurance, and it’ll take some time to rebuild the place. That can’t be good news to either of you. But things could’ve been worse. I’m proud of our firefighters for putting that fire out as fast as they did. They did a great job.”

What a shame that they’d had to risk their lives in the first place.

“I’m grateful they arrived so quickly,” Sadie said. “Maybe it means I’ll still have some of my belongings.”

The wind howled outside, tossing tree branches against the windows with an eerie scraping sound.

Thomas adjusted his belt. “I hope that’s the case.”

Sadie blew out a sigh. “Thanks. I appreciate the news.”

“No problem,” he said. “And now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to hear a bit more about how the fire got started. I know it’s late, and you’ve got to be tired and upset, but I’d rather we have this talk sooner rather than later—while all the details are fresh in your mind.”

“I understand,” she said.

“It’s too windy out here, though,” Thomas told her. “Why don’t you come sit in the car with us?”

Dawson expected her to agree, but she made no move to leave the house. “Since I called Dawson when it happened, and told him all about it, he might have something to contribute,” she replied. “Let’s talk in here.” She looked to Dawson. “Is that okay?”

Dawson thought it was the smartest move she could make. Then they couldn’t isolate and pressure her the way they’d isolated and pressured him a year ago. She wasn’t suspected of a crime like he’d been, but if Sly started the fire, he’d have a vested interest in getting her to say some things and not others, or trying to discredit her story in various places.

Silently applauding her, Dawson moved out of the way so they could come in out of the cold. “Of course.”

Sly wasn’t pleased by his ex-wife’s response. He lagged behind on the stoop for so long Dawson almost wondered if he’d refuse to come in. But he didn’t want to be left out, or he wouldn’t be here. He seemed to realize that if he didn’t go with the flow, the conversation would proceed without him. Chief Thomas seemed somewhat indifferent to his displeasure—or at least undeterred by it. He’d already stepped inside, so Sly followed suit just before Dawson closed the door.

“Have a seat.” Sadie took charge. Dawson refused to offer them anything, but the fact that she seemed so comfortable in his house—or maybe it was that she was wearing his clothes—further agitated her soon-to-be ex. As Sly brushed past, he hit Dawson’s shoulder with his own, hard enough to knock Dawson back a step, so Dawson immediately shoved him against the wall. The exchange would’ve erupted in a fight, except the police chief whipped around and grabbed Sly, yanking him out of reach and standing between them.

“We’ll have none of that!” he snapped.

“This is ridiculous,” Sly grumbled. “Why are we doing this here? Let’s grab Sadie and figure out what happened at my place, without this bastard.”

“That’s up to Sadie.” Chief Thomas looked to her. “Given Dawson’s history with this town, and how my officers feel about him, maybe we’d be better off—”

“No,” she broke in. “I’m not leaving here. Jayden’s asleep, and after what we’ve both been through, I don’t see any reason to wake him.”

Chief Thomas smoothed down his hair, which was still ruffled from the wind outside. “That’s understandable.” He arched an eyebrow at Sly as he gestured toward the couch. “Sit down.”

Although Sly obeyed, he did so grudgingly. And he kept glowering at Sadie as if she’d betrayed him personally. Dawson considered that hugely ironic, given what they believed he’d done.

“What happened tonight?” Thomas asked, withdrawing a small notebook from his shirt pocket. “I’ll take a few notes, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” she said. “There’s just not a lot to tell. Someone set fire to my house. It’s that simple.”

“Do you have any idea who?”

When she hesitated, Dawson thought she might accuse Sly, as she’d done earlier, but she didn’t. “No.”

“You didn’t see anything that might help identify the perpetrator?” Thomas asked. “Hear anything?”

The dark circles under Sadie’s eyes seemed more pronounced than before. Besides the shock of having so recently escaped a burning house, it was nearly four in the morning and she hadn’t gotten any sleep. “I heard some rustling outside. I tried to convince myself it was nothing. Houses have...settling noises and such.”