My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(65)

“Who called in the alarm?”

“The nine-one-one dispatcher got an anonymous tip and triggered the alarm. It must’ve happened right after the fire started. Otherwise, the whole store could’ve gone up.”

“So maybe a kid, or somebody, is fooling around, starts the fire, calls for help, and runs off.”

“At this point, we’re all second-guessing, Maggie. I’ll know more when I check it out in the morning.”

Somebody called the sheriff’s name, and he hurried off. People were dispersing now. Hank had already gone, and the firemen were loading the engine. Maggie glanced around for Stanley Featherstone. She didn’t see him, but the fire had drawn a crowd. He could easily have come and gone without her noticing.

She wondered again whether she should call Travis. But by now he was probably asleep. He could just as well rest easily until morning to learn about the fire.

The fire engine headed back to the station. Maggie watched the red taillights disappear up Main Street. Then she walked back to her car, drove home, and went to bed.

*

Travis and his partners were up early the next morning. With the students out of school for Christmas vacation, families who’d put off buying a Christmas tree were apt to do it today. Too bad the snow wasn’t deep enough for sleigh rides. But at least everything else was ready.

They had just opened for business when the county sheriff’s big, tan SUV pulled up to the gate and stopped. Travis’s heart dropped as two men climbed out. He recognized the tall man as Sheriff Ben Marsden. The other one was Constable Stanley Featherstone. Both of them were armed.

One thing was certain. They hadn’t come to buy a Christmas tree. Good Lord, what if something had happened to Maggie?

Sick with apprehension, Travis walked out to meet them.

“Sheriff,” he said, ignoring Featherstone, “is something wrong?”

“You might say that.” Marsden was soft-spoken, but his presence was intimidating enough. “Mr. Morgan, can you tell us where you were between eleven and eleven-thirty last night?”

Travis knew the drill, and he knew better than to ask his own questions until he’d answered the sheriff’s. “I was with Maggie until after eleven—she can verify that. Then I left and drove straight home. My partners heard me come in.”

Dread slammed into him. What if something had happened to Maggie after their phone call? Why hadn’t he gone back instead of letting her talk him into going home? “Is Maggie all right?” he managed to ask.

At the mention of Maggie’s name, Featherstone’s face went florid. He appeared to be on the verge of an outburst, but he held himself in check, most likely because the sheriff had ordered him to.

“Maggie is fine,” Marsden said. Travis began to breathe again until the sheriff continued. “This isn’t about her. The Christmas tree lot at Hank’s Hardware was burned down last night. The firemen were barely able to save the store. We have a very reliable witness who claims to have seen you set the blaze.”

The cold fear that struck Travis went clear to the bone, but he knew he couldn’t show it. “Then your so-called reliable witness is lying,” he said. “I drove by the place about that time on my way home. There was no fire. I didn’t see anybody there, and I didn’t stop.”

“Is there any way you can prove that?” Marsden was only doing his job, Travis told himself. It was Featherstone who would do anything to take him out.

“I was tailed by a dark sedan, from the time I left Maggie’s until after I passed the hardware store. I’m guessing your so-called witness was the one driving it. Nobody else saw me. But my first thought was that somebody who meant to harm Maggie was following me to make sure I was gone. I called to warn her. But she insisted she was all right.”

“Of course, she was. That was me driving!” Featherstone spoke up in spite of the sheriff’s warning look. “I was patrolling the streets, looking for kids out past curfew. When I spotted you, I wanted to make sure you weren’t up to something. So yes, I followed you. And I saw you light the fire.”

The bottom seemed to drop out of Travis’s world. The little bastard was lying through his teeth and might have even started the fire himself. But there wasn’t a shred of proof against his story. It was the word of a sworn law officer against the word of an ex-convict.

Travis could almost hear the cell door clanging shut behind him. Lord help him, he didn’t have a prayer. But if he was going down, he would go down fighting.

“For the record, Sheriff, I didn’t do it. The fire started after I passed the hardware store. Why don’t you ask the constable, here, how he knew it was me? It was dark, and I was driving my partner’s Jeep.”

“That’s an interesting question, Constable,” Marsden said. “How did you know?”

Featherstone glanced at his boots. “Because his Jeep was parked outside Maggie’s house. When he came outside to leave, the porch light was on. I saw him plain as day.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “So you were watching Maggie’s house? Why?”

“To protect her. I’d warned her that this man was trouble, but she wouldn’t listen. I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

“But you said you were looking for curfew violators when you saw him,” the sheriff said.