No One But You (Silver Springs #2)(95)

Normally, Maude and Vern—or at the least Maude—would’ve kept her busy chatting, but they were gone today, visiting their daughter in Palm Springs. So Sadie had been sitting alone on their patio, using the internet on her phone to entertain herself while she waited.

Planning to call Dawson back later, she silenced his ring before sticking out her hand to shake with the stern-looking, military type who was, apparently, her arson investigator. “Sadie Harris. Thank you for coming.”

“Damian Steele.”

His name sounded like a movie star’s. She supposed it was fitting that he lived in LA.

“So,” she said, “is there anything you need from me?”

He had a notebook in his left hand, seemed ready to get down to business. “Nope. Just access.” He gestured at the scarred building in front of them. “Looks like I’ve got that, since this must be the place.”

“Yes.” Surprisingly, when the wind kicked up, she could still smell the acrid scent of smoke. “I’ve got the key if you’d like to get inside.”

“I do. I’ll take a look at everything.”

At least he seemed thorough.

She handed him the key and returned to Maude’s patio while he brought some paint cans and other things from his vehicle and walked the perimeter of the property before kneeling on the left side, where the fire had started. He spent some time there, collecting samples he put in those cans before going inside.

Sadie would’ve trailed after him—she was dying to see the house. But she wasn’t supposed to go anywhere except the kitchen, and something about the efficiency of his actions and his complete absorption made her feel like she might mess up his mojo or something if she tried.

While he was in the house, she returned Dawson’s call. “What’s up?”

“Has the arson investigator arrived yet?” he asked.

“Just got here.” She’d texted him about the delay, but he hadn’t responded. She’d assumed he was too engrossed in his work.

“What’s he saying? Anything?”

“Not yet. He’s looking it all over carefully, taking samples.”

“Have you been inside?”

“No. Call me superstitious, but there’s so much riding on this. I don’t want to have touched or disturbed one little thing, for fear that will be the one thing that might have given the culprit away if I hadn’t.”

“I doubt you have to worry about that inside.”

“Still. I’m staying away from everything until he’s done. I’ve waited this long, you know? I can wait another hour or so. Then I’ll go in and...and comb through what’s left.”

He must’ve heard the anxiety in her voice, because he said, “Do you want me to come over and help with that?”

It was a nice offer. The people of Silver Springs would be surprised to learn how sensitive he could be. But she preferred to do it alone. The fire had not only forced her out of her rental, it had acted like an ax, severing the last of the bond between her and Sly. She was looking forward to having a few minutes in her old space, even if it was just the kitchen, to savor the fact that she no longer had to smile when she opened the door to him. No longer had to pretend she wasn’t dying a little inside when he insisted on spending time with her and Jayden. No longer had to worry that he’d hit her up for sex and put her in the position of trying to say no without starting a major argument. She had other things to worry about, of course—everything she’d been trying to avoid by making nice for so long—but there was a strange sort of relief in escaping her old problems even if it meant taking on new ones.

She also wasn’t sure how she’d hold up if the photos of her parents and Jayden’s baby pictures had been ruined, didn’t want Dawson to see her go to pieces if they were gone any more than she wanted the arson investigator to witness such a scene. “No, I’ve got it.”

“Okay.”

She expected him to say goodbye and hang up, but he didn’t.

“I found something a few minutes ago, something that has me concerned,” he said.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Tire tracks, out near the canal at the back of the property. Someone’s been sitting out there, watching the house.”

Her stomach tightened. “And you think it was Sly.”

“Who else could it be?”

Her ex had kept close tabs on her ever since she left him—even before that. But she didn’t want to believe he was sneaking around the farm after he’d been warned by Chief Thomas to stay away. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get himself kicked off the force. Then where would he be? “Maybe some teenagers were out there partying—smoking pot or having sex.”

“I’d be more tempted to pass it off as harmless if whoever it was had come only once. But I can see where a vehicle—the same vehicle judging by the similarity of the tracks—has been in and out of here at least three times since the last rain, and that was the day I hired you, remember?”

A chill rolled down her spine. She wished she could continue to argue that those tracks might be innocuous, but she couldn’t. It would be like Sly to press his luck in that way.

So what, exactly, had he been up to? Had he been peeking through the windows? Stolen or booby-trapped something? Was he running some kind of surveillance so that he’d know exactly what was going on?