Rainier Drive (Cedar Cove #6)(26)

Her day in court with Judge Lockhart-Griffin had been revealing, to say the least. People did stupid things and seemed shocked when they were held accountable in a court of law.

Anson wasn’t like the people who stood before the judge. He’d been working hard to do the right thing, and then it seemed everything had blown up in his face. No one believed he was innocent. Yes, he was angry and disillusioned with the Gundersons—understandably because they’d laid him off—but that didn’t mean he’d started the fire.

She sat on her bed and studied her notes from the day in court. The phone rang in the distance and she left it for Eddie to answer, since he considered it his duty to check all incoming calls. He was okay as brothers went, she supposed, but sometimes he could be a real pest.

“Allison!” he shouted as if she were deaf. “It’s for you.”

“Who is it?” she demanded.

“Some guy. He didn’t give his name.”

Only half interested, Allison reached for the receiver in her room. She paused. “Hang up, Eddie.” When she heard the click, she said, “Hi,” in an indifferent voice.

“Allison.”

Her heart stopped. It was Anson.

“Where are you?” she asked, gripping the phone with both hands.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sort of.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“I needed to hear your voice,” he said. “I know what happened at The Lighthouse. Everyone thinks I did it, don’t they?”

She couldn’t lie to him. “Yes.”

He didn’t respond for a moment. “I swear to you, Allison, it wasn’t me.”

“I believe you.” It was hard to speak past the lump in her throat. In her joy at hearing from him, she nearly floated off the bed. “How did you get past Eddie?” That was a crazy question when so many others were far more important.

“I had a friend of mine call. I’m using a throwaway cell phone. No one’ll be able to trace it. I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No…just the sound of your voice. I knew if I heard it I’d be okay.”

“I will be, too,” she said breathlessly. She longed to tell him how desperately she missed him and how difficult it was to go to school every day and defend him. Anson didn’t need to hear any of that. His troubles far outweighed hers.

“Has it been bad for you?” he asked. “Did the sheriff question you?”

“Yes. I…told them about you coming to my window that night.”

“That’s okay—you had to tell the truth.”

“You…you smelled of smoke. I was too upset to realize it right away…. I—I didn’t say anything to the sheriff.”

He didn’t comment or explain. Instead, he asked. “Is there a warrant out for my arrest?”

“No.” She lowered her voice on the off-chance Eddie was listening. “But the sheriff says you’re a…a person of interest.”

He seemed relieved to hear that. “No matter what anyone tells you, Allison, I swear I didn’t do it.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes and held her breath, as if to keep him close. Then she wondered if he had a specific reason for reaching out to her, if he needed her help. “Should I send you some money?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Her heart pounded so hard that her pulse echoed in her ears. The money box had been taken from the office the night of the fire. Allison had heard the sheriff mention it to her father.

Anson hadn’t been able to save any money because everything he’d earned as a dishwasher and later as a prep cook had gone toward restitution for the fire he’d set in the park. If he left Cedar Cove with money, it hadn’t come from his employment. She wanted to ask what he was living on, but she was afraid of the answer, afraid of the truth.

“Come back, Anson,” she pleaded softly. “My dad will help you.”

“He can’t,” he returned, “not this time. I appreciate everything he did, but this is bigger. I’m eighteen now, Allison. This isn’t going to be handled in juvie. I’d be tried as an adult and I can’t risk that.”

“Please.” She didn’t want to beg. “I can’t stand not knowing where you are or what’s going on.”

“It’s too late, Allison. I’m sorry—sorrier than I can ever tell you.”

“It isn’t too late. It can’t be.” Anson didn’t seem to understand that they’d never be together if he didn’t clear his name.

“Where I am,” he began, then stopped abruptly.

“Yes?” she urged.

“There’s no going back for me. I shouldn’t have phoned.”

“No! I’m so glad you did.”

“I have to go now.”

The reluctance in his voice made her feel like crying. She wanted to argue with him, plead with him to talk to her for just a few minutes more. Instinctively she knew it wouldn’t make any difference.

“Will you call again?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Please.” All her love was in that word.