Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(119)

One of the two men accompanying Everett heard her, and his eyes narrowed. “Holt? Yeah, I recognize you. Filled in for one of ours a couple of years ago.”

“Yeah, Captain.” Holt pulled Carson securely between him and Josie. “Carson here didn’t start the fire. He tried to stop it. He can tell you what happened.”

“Good. We’ll need to—” The captain’s cell phone rang, and he held up a finger to wait as he took the call. His brows drew together. “Hell, seriously? I’ll be right there.”

Scowling, he said, “Wind’s picked up. Neighboring houses are at risk—we need to evacuate. I need to get back.”

Josie’s heart sank. More houses. This was a nightmare for everyone.

“Holt, ma’am, the police and arson investigation will take point on the interviews.” The captain motioned to the other man who’d come in with him. “This is Detective Simonsen.”

After nodding to Holt, the captain strode quickly out the hospital exit.

Badge on his belt, the stocky detective had dark hair and a beefy red face. He looked them over with a cold, hard expression. “We’re going to the station.”

To the police station. Josie suppressed a shiver and nodded calmly. “Of course.”

Everett crossed his arms over his chest and he stared at her, then Carson, before turning to the detective. “Keith, make sure her lying bastard pays for what he’s done.”

Keith? They were friends?

When the police detective nodded, Josie felt her heart sink.





Chapter Twenty-Eight





With his mom beside him, Carson waited for the detective to return.

The air in the ugly police station room was really cold, and he was sure that was why he couldn’t stop trembling. They’d probably been in this cold awful room for hours.

It didn’t even have any pictures or anything. The table was wood and old, and when Carson had given it a push, it hadn’t moved.

At least Mom was here; the detective had kicked Holt out. Carson wanted Holt, too. Because… He looked up at Mom. “Detective Simonsen didn’t believe me, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.” Mom’s mouth twisted sideways. “I’d guess he and Everett are friends.” Mom reached across the space between them and put her hand on his shoulder. “I believe you, honey. We’ll get this worked out.”

He could feel her fingers shaking. Mom was scared. Him, too, although his heart wasn’t pounding like when the house was on fire. This felt more like he’d never get warm again.

The detective came back in. His face was mean in a way that made Carson scrunch down in his chair. “The Lanning’s house is pretty much destroyed. That make you feel good, boy?”

“Does it make you feel good picking on an eleven-year-old child, detective?” Mom’s voice had the sharp edge that said she didn’t like the man.

The detective’s mouth twisted nasty-like, and he slapped the table, making Carson jump. “Since your mama can’t keep you from breaking the law, you’re gonna go to juvenile hall. It’s where we send the—

“The children who are actually convicted of crimes.” A really big guy walked into the room. He had an accent, like English only bouncier. He looked down at Detective Simonsen like the detective was a rat turd. “Carson hasn’t been convicted of anything. In fact, he went to considerable effort and pain to try to stop the arsonist.”

“Like you know anything about it, O’Keefe. The boy’s been harassing Everett Lanning and showed up on his doorstep. He’s admitted he was pissed off when Lanning told him to leave. What better way to get revenge than burning the house down?”

Holt quietly entered the room and walked around the table. He put his arm around Mom’s shoulder and squeezed Carson’s shoulder. His hand was warm and big, and Carson couldn’t keep from reaching up and curling his fingers around it.

“What the fuck is he doing in here?” The detective glared at Holt.

Carson tightened his grip.

“Detective, a warning: The recorder is active, and your language is inappropriate.” O’Keefe crossed his arms over his chest. “As to why Holt is in here? Any experienced interviewer would know a terrified child gives questionable answers. Since you were treating the boy’s mother as abusively as you were the boy, I brought in someone he’d feel safe with.”

Detective Simonsen looked as if he would choke. “You—you—”

“Yeah, me. As arson investigator—and this was arson—I’ll be interviewing the boy, which we might have done together if you hadn’t been a”—O’Keefe looked at Carson and winked—“an idiot. I suggest you talk with Yukio and Ryan. Ryan was there. If you check their phones, the timing and perpetrator are quite clear.”

O’Keefe opened the door and waited.

The detective didn’t move. “They’re friends of the kid’s. Of course, they’d back him up.”

“Lanning’s children aren’t, and they’re quite certain as to which boy was running around the house, throwing incendiary devices through the windows. They saw Carson tackle Brandon in an attempt to get him to stop.”

“I’ll see about that.” With a disbelieving growl, the detective stalked out of the room and slammed the door.