Debby Giusti - Countdown to Death

“Morning, Bett.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled warmly. “How ’bout some breakfast, Vic?”

“Can I take a rain check?”

“Allison, Sheriff Vic Treadwell wants to talk to us about last night,” Luke said.

“Ma’am.” The sheriff nodded to Allison, then smiled at Shelly. “Hey, Sunshine.”

The girl’s eyes crinkled, and the corners of her mouth twitched at the nickname she evidently enjoyed being called.

“Why don’t we go into the other room,” the sheriff suggested.

A sense of unease washed over Allison. She rinsed her hands in the sink and dried them on the towel Bett offered, then followed Luke and the sheriff into the living area.

Pulling in a steadying breath, she sat on one end of the leather couch opposite the sheriff, who withdrew a small tablet and pen from his pocket. Luke stood by the mantel.

“Allison, did you happen to hear anything before the fire broke out last night?” the sheriff asked, his pen poised to write.

She shook her head, trying to calm the threads of concern that tangled within her. “The drive from Atlanta took longer than I expected. I called a friend after I found my room and before I’d gotten my luggage from the car. I dozed off for a few minutes. When I opened my eyes, smoke filled the room.”

“Did you see anyone hanging around the premises?”

“No one.” She thought back to the blackened hallway of the bed-and-breakfast and the lone lamp that had shadowed the registration desk. “The night manager left me a note with the key to the room.”

The sheriff jotted something on the tablet. “Who let you in?”

“No one. The front door was open when I arrived.”

“And you locked it when you went upstairs?”

“I left it the way I’d found it, Sheriff, in case someone arrived after me.”

“But it was locked when I got there,” Luke volunteered.

The sheriff glanced at Luke before turning his gaze back to Allison. “You sure you didn’t lock the door?”

“I’m quite sure.”

“I blame Cooper Wallace,” Luke said as the sheriff made another notation. “It’s been years since he’s done any repair work on the property. Faulty wiring probably caused the fire.”

The sheriff shook his head. “Now, Luke, I know you two don’t see eye to eye, but he’s got a lot on his plate with his campaign for the state senate.”

Luke let out an exasperated breath. “He’ll never get elected.”

“If you came to town a bit more often, you might realize Coop’s favored to win. ’Course, there’s no one of worth running against him.”

Wallace? The name of one of the men Allison needed to find. “Any chance he’s related to Jason Wallace?”

The sheriff nodded. “Jason’s his kid brother. Why?”

What could she say? She needed to respect Jason Wallace’s privacy, but she also needed to answer the sheriff’s question truthfully.

“I hope to talk to him later today about a test my lab is developing.”

“A test that has to do with the health of the local deer population,” Luke added.

The sheriff raised his brow. “Folks take their hunting seriously around these parts.”

Allison glanced at the magazines on the table and the mounted deer head hanging on the wall. “So it seems.”

A gust of wind whistled down the chimney, and she shivered, not so much from the cold but from the confusion she felt. The sheriff’s interrogation had turned in a new direction. “Let me assure you, I didn’t come to Sterling to cause trouble.”

The sheriff frowned. “Some might disagree.”

“Meaning?” She looked at Luke, but his eyes were veiled.

The sheriff pursed his lips. “We’ve never had an arson case before.”

Her breath caught. “Arson?”

His gaze was direct, his tone as cold as the wind. “The fire started in the hallway outside your room, and was fueled by an accelerant.”

Allison’s neck tingled and a sick feeling roiled through her stomach.

“Hate to tell you, ma’am—”

She flicked another glance at Luke, who stared into the fireplace.

“From the looks of it—”

The sheriff shook his head. His voice seemed distant.

A roar filled her ears. She swallowed down the lump that clogged her throat and tried to hear what he was saying.

“From the looks of it, I’d say someone in Sterling wants you dead.”

An arson case in Sterling.

Luke had a hard time swallowing that bit of information. Sure, he’d been quick to blame Cooper Wallace for neglecting the upkeep on the property, but that was a far cry from setting the fire on purpose.

Overcome with frustration, Luke kicked a pile of leaves and sent them scattering along the driveway as he waited for the sheriff to finish interrogating Allison in private. She’d insisted the details about her test remain confidential. Once he realized his presence was keeping her from explaining everything to the sheriff, Luke had excused himself and stepped outside.

Did she think he’d spread the information all over town? If only she knew how little he had to do with anyone from Sterling.

Luke turned at the sound of the door opening. Sheriff Treadwell hustled across the porch and down the steps. “Thanks for giving us a few minutes alone, Luke. Doubt her work in Atlanta has much bearing on the fire, but I’ll have a talk with the three blood donors she came here to question.”

“Did she tell you it might involve wasting disease?”

“Only that it was a possibility.”

“I called the game warden this morning to give him a heads-up.”

“Has he seen any sick game?”

“Not a one. Any idea who set the blaze?”

“Wish I did. Truth be told, I don’t have a clue, but like I told Allison, because of where it started, she could be the likely target.”

“Don’t rule out Cooper. I’m sure he’s made some enemies. Or maybe the arsonist was looking for someone who rented the room before Allison.”

“Now you’re thinking like a cop. I’ll talk to Cooper. I’ve already questioned the guy he has running the B and B. From what he said, business has been slow all year. The upstairs rooms haven’t been occupied for months.”

“Then why’d he put Allison up there?”

“Three of the rooms on the first floor were being remodeled. He had rented the two remaining downstairs rooms earlier in the week. When Allison e-mailed for reservations, he had no choice but to put her upstairs.”

“Did he tell anyone which room she was in?”

“Supposedly no one.”

“Cooper would have access to that information.”

The sheriff shook his head. “Now, Luke, you know Cooper’s busy with his campaign. Doubtful he’s interested in who’s staying at the B and B or which rooms have been rented out. You’re letting what happened ten years ago cloud your judgment. You gotta let it go, son. Your daddy would have been the first to tell you to forgive and forget.”

The sheriff’s words stung like alcohol on an open wound. “My father believed in justice. You know that, Vic.”

“Best sheriff Sterling’s ever had. Stepping into his shoes after his death was the hardest move I’ve ever made.”

“Folks still giving you a hard time about never charging me with the crime?”

“Folks talk about a lot of things, you know that. First thing your dad taught me when I became a deputy was that people always talk. Can’t do anything about it, so best to let it slide like water off a duck’s back.”

“But they haven’t forgotten.”

“As bad as it was, doubtful anyone will forget. But they’ve moved on to other things. Might do you good to follow their example. You’ve been holed up out here like an ostrich with your head in the sand. Time to face life again. Ten years is too long to close yourself off.”