No One But You (Silver Springs #2)(80)

“Are we still trying to gather evidence on the Reed murders?” Sly broke in, hoping he’d figured it out at last. If so, that was a good thing. He’d love nothing more than to see Dawson Reed go to prison for the rest of his life, or worse. Without him standing in the way, providing food and shelter and work for Sadie, she wouldn’t be acting the way she was. She’d have nowhere to turn, would be down on her knees, begging him to take her back.

“I thought maybe that was the case, too. It’s killing me that he’s running around town as if he’s as innocent as everyone else. But when I looked up this Damian dude on the internet, I found out that he’s an arson investigator. A good one.”

Sly’s stomach plummeted to his feet. “What’d you say?”

“You heard me.” There was a moment of silence, then he said, “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sadie’s telling everyone you had something to do with the fire. After what I saw at the diner, I thought... I don’t know. I thought maybe you did do something stupid.”

“Hell, no. Of course not. I’m not an idiot.”

“Whew! I’m relieved.”

“You thought I might have...”

“Not really. You just...haven’t been yourself lately, that’s all. Sadie...she’s gotten inside your head.”

Sly was reeling so badly he was having a difficult time sounding convincing. He’d been so careful that night. But...had he left anything behind? “That’s bullshit. I can’t believe you’d even consider it.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, bro. Doesn’t matter who comes to town. Just wanted you to know—in case.”

“I appreciate that. So...the department is hiring someone else? An outsider?”

“Not the department. Thomas was surprised by the call. He tried to say we had it covered, but the guy must’ve convinced him he had some right to see the property, because Chief Thomas set up a time to meet him there.”

“When?”

“Noon on Thursday.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, kicking over his water bottle. “We don’t need no outsider meddling in our business.”

“Yeah. No one likes it much, but it is what it is.”

Sly took a moment to process everything he’d just heard. “The weird thing is...if we didn’t hire him, who did? The fire department?”

“Doubt it. They don’t have the money for that kind of thing, not for a fire where no one was actually hurt.”

“Is it Maude, then? She’s got money. Is she not satisfied with the investigation?”

“The landlady? Come on. She wouldn’t think to call in a specialist. Anyway, her homeowner’s policy will pay to rebuild whether it was arson or not.”

“Whoever invited this guy has to be paying a lot. Someone like Damian Steele is an important man. He’s not going to drop everything and drive out here on his own dime,” he started, then stopped. Son of a bitch! It was Dawson Reed. It had to be.

That prick was coming after him.





21


Dawson spent a long two days trying to make up for the time he’d lost over the weekend, but thanks to the desire he felt for Sadie, which he was trying so hard not to act upon, the nights were longer still. He’d managed to get through them, however, managed to make it all the way to Tuesday night—which felt like a real accomplishment—but now he was facing another hurdle. The time had come to clean his parents’ bedroom. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

As he stood in the hallway, staring at that locked door with the cleaning supplies in a bucket at his feet, he would’ve procrastinated yet again if he could have. But he had no excuse to do so. Just yesterday he’d spoken to the forensics specialist he’d hired. Ed hadn’t learned anything from the samples he’d collected quite yet, said it would be several weeks before the results came in, but he’d reiterated that he was done with the bedroom.

The only thing stopping Dawson from cleaning it was his own reluctance. Why didn’t he allow Eli and Gavin to handle the gruesome task for him? Then he wouldn’t have to face his feelings, could continue to compartmentalize his grief.

He looked down at his hands. They felt awkward and clumsy, and he hadn’t even inserted the key. He’d stood in the same spot many times and managed his emotions just fine, but this was different. He had to actually open the door, couldn’t shove the memory of what was inside into the back of his mind and walk away, like before.

Downstairs, he heard Sadie and Jayden come into the house. They were back from the store. Already. He’d thought he’d have more time, didn’t want to be doing this with them in the house. But the woman from the state would be here first thing in the morning. He could easily imagine what she’d think if she found the murder scene pretty much as the police left it. She wouldn’t understand the conflicting emotions that made him so reluctant, wouldn’t understand that washing away the last of his parents’ blood somehow erased them, too—or what was left of them—when he hadn’t quite let go, couldn’t let go until he’d found the person who murdered them. She’d merely assume he wasn’t coping as well as he should be, and she’d decide that Angela would be better off remaining at Stanley DeWitt.