Brody (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood Book 3) Page 16
“Wish I could go too. I feel useless, being babysat by everybody else.”
“You’re not useless. You are protecting your child, and that’s more important than you wandering around trying to find a needle in a haystack. You’ve got the important job. Let the rest of us find you ex and send him back to Huntsville.”
“I know, I just hate feeling helpless. Before I met Evan, I was strong. I had confidence, knew who I was and what I wanted. Somehow, over the years, I’ve become…less. I feel like I’ve lost a part of me, of who I am.”
Heath surprised her by leaning down and hugging her, a brief but tight squeeze. “The last thing I’d say about you is you’re weak. It takes strength to stand up to a man and tell him no. You did that. From what my family has told me, when you and your sister found out what your ex-husband tried to do, you stood up to him. Divorced him. Protected your child. Gave the money back to the people of Crowley County. A weak-willed person wouldn’t have done that. They’d have sat back and taken the money, lived a comfortable life, without a single lick of conscience. Nope,” he ruffled her hair again, “you’re a warrior woman. Brody’s got his hands full.”
Beth was speechless at Heath’s words. Did he really see her like that? More importantly, did Brody see her as a strong, independent woman, and not the meek puppet Evan wanted?
“He’s right.” Camilla walked in, her gaze assessing Heath. She’d had a shower and now looked like the sophisticated, put together woman Beth was used to seeing, instead of the screaming harpy who’d answered the door.
“Of course I’m right.”
Camilla ignored him, her stare focused on Beth. “I’ve always known you were incredible. But you proved just how much fortitude and willpower you possessed when you stood up for your convictions, doing the right thing. I never doubted your strength or your character, not for a second. Captain Caveman is right, you are a warrior. You just needed a chance to prove it.”
“And with that, I’m out. I’ll call the Big House if I hear anything.”
Beth watched Heath walk away, and noticed her friend’s eyes glued to the big man too, with a curiosity that piqued Beth’s interest. Camilla had been hurt in the past, and stayed away from anything resembling a commitment. She dated, but played the field, never staying with any one man for more than a month or so before she moved on. If Camilla stayed around, who knew what might happen? Though she didn’t know Heath, having just met him, she did know his family, and if he was anything like the rest of them, which she was pretty confident he was, Camilla could certainly do a lot worse.
“I see you got my laptop back from the Neanderthal. Hope he didn’t screw up my files.”
“Camilla, give the guy a break. He drove halfway across the country to see his family, only instead of getting to spend time with them, he’s been plunged neck deep in my problems. I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt, okay?”
“Halfway across the country? West coast, I hope.”
“Nope. Virginia. Actually works in D.C.”
“No way he’s a politician. He’s not polished enough.”
Beth shook her head. “I think he works for the ATF. All these Boudreau men seem to like high energy, uber-masculine jobs.”
Camilla pushed her hair behind her shoulders and straightened. “Well, I still haven’t had my caffeine. Want to head back to the Boudreau house and see if they’ve got some coffee?”
Before Beth could answer, her cell phone rang. Looking down at the caller ID, she noted Nica’s name. “Nica, everything okay?
“Beth, I can’t find Jamie. She’s gone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
With the fire finally contained, Brody left Jeff in charge of clearing and processing the scene, and looking for evidence of foul play. Jeff had almost finished his courses, and this would be good on-the-job experience, though he’d follow up on everything he did, to make sure he didn’t miss anything vital. In the meantime, though, he needed to head to the sheriff’s station, and update Rafe on what the forensic arson crime lab uncovered about the Summers’ fire.
How could Greg do this? The man flat-out lied to his face yesterday when he’d questioned him about his family’s homestead. When he’d asked him if he could think of a single person who’d want to burn it, he’d said no. An awful thought raced through his mind, one he hadn’t wanted to considered, even when he’d suspected Greg’s involvement. Could Greg’s family be in on it? Would they condone, maybe even orchestrate, the fire and subsequent coverup? It didn’t seem plausible, but at this point, he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
Right now, he had more questions than answers. The only concrete thing he had was documented proof Greg’s prints were found at the scene. He decided to take a deep breath and break down the facts. Number one, Greg had the means. Gasoline as an accelerant was quick, easy to obtain, and affordable. Anybody could drive up to a gas station and fill up a five-gallon container without arousing suspicion, especially in a small town like Shiloh Springs. Number two, Greg had motive. His family was in desperate need of a cash infusion. His mother’s cancer treatments were mounting and expensive, draining the family’s coffers dry. As a motive, it was hard to think of a better one. Paying for an ailing parent’s chemotherapy and radiation therapy treatments might hold sway with jurors, compassionate circumstances notwithstanding. Number three, Greg had the opportunity to commit the crime. Though he lived in San Antonio, it wasn’t that far a drive to Shiloh Springs. He could have done it and gotten back home before he’d been missed, with no one the wiser.
Pulling up in front of the sheriff’s station, he sat with his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. He never minded putting a firebug behind bars. It was his job. His responsibility. Keeping people and their homes and property safe was something he took seriously. Yet now his conscious warred with his oath to protect. Greg was his friend. He’d know the family for more than twenty years.
With a heavy sigh, he climbed out of his truck and headed inside. He needed to talk to Rafe, get his head on straight before he did something he might regret. Sally Anne greeted him as he walked inside, though she seemed subdued, almost sad. He waved, but couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. This needed to be handled now, before he headed for San Antonio and a confrontation with Greg.
After a perfunctory knock on Rafe’s door, he opened it and stopped short, spotting Greg sitting across from Rafe. The seriousness in his brother’s expression had the little hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention.
“What’s going on?”
“Come in, Brody, and close the door.” Rafe motioned to the chair beside Greg. “We have a situation.”
“You have no idea,” Brody muttered under his breath.
“Greg, you want to tell him or should I?”
Greg’s shoulders slumped, and he couldn’t quite meet Brody’s gaze. “I’m turning myself in. I’m the one who set the fires.”
Fires? Plural?
“Okay,” he drawled out the word, his gaze shifting to Rafe.
“I’ve read Mr. Summers his rights, and he’s waived his right to counsel. Greg, why don’t you start at the beginning, and tell Brody what you told me.” Rafe pointed to the recorder on his desk, and Brody raised his brows, looking at his brother.
“Like I told Rafe, I mean Sheriff Boudreau, I started the fire on our property. The barn. I was desperate. My dad was calling me all the time, moaning and groaning about how the land wouldn’t sell, how he needed the money for Mom’s treatments. I’m overextended. My savings are gone. I wiped out any credit I had, borrowed money from any place I could get it, and it’s never enough.”
“But you maintained the insurance policy on the land. You told me yesterday.” Brody couldn’t help the spark of anger burning in his core at the almost emotionless way Greg recounted burning down his own family’s property. There had to have been another way, a better recourse, a solution which didn’t include breaking the law.
“Start with the fires, Greg? More than one.”
He nodded, his head hung in shame. “I knew if the family property was the only thing destroyed, me and my family would be the first suspects. Heck, the only suspects. So, I burned down that derelict shack, the one off Cumberland. Place was practically falling down anyway. Nobody around who’d care what happened to it. I waited a couple of weeks, then did it again. Figured I’d establish a pattern. After the first two fires, once things quieted down, I torched the barn.” He raised a pleading gaze to Brody. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how much I hate putting you in a position to deal with my actions, but I couldn’t see another way out.”
“I get it. Nobody suspected you, since you had no ties to the first fires. So when it happened on your family’s land, nothing would point to you or your dad.”
“Exactly. When you called, and told me you suspected arson, I lost it. You and Rafe, you’re smart. You’re thorough. I knew it was only a matter of time until you figured it out. But I hoped if I could destroy any evidence before you’d have a chance to look too close, maybe, I don’t know—things could have turned out different.”
“Greg, evidence was collected immediately after the fire. It had already been turned in to the forensic laboratory. Photographs were taken at the scene. A thorough investigation was underway before you torched what little remained of the barn. All you did was reinforce what we already knew, it was arson.” Brody turned in his chair, watching his childhood friend, head bowed, eyes downcast. It couldn’t be helped, Greg was in a butt load of trouble, looking at some serious time behind bars, and as much as he wanted to help him, he didn’t have a whole lot of options.
“Setting the second fire simply raised my suspicions. You panicked, didn’t you? That’s why you showed up in Shiloh Springs. You wanted to know what I’d found.”
Greg nodded. “I couldn’t stand the not knowing. Sitting and waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know. It was stupid, but I figured I’d be able to read you. When we were growing up, you were like an open book. But you’ve changed.”
“I’m not the only one who changed, Greg.”
Brody turned away from Greg, turning his attention to his brother. “Rafe, I heard back from the forensic lab in Austin. They confirmed arson. Gasoline was the accelerant. They passed along the pieces of glass found at the scene, and found two usable fingerprints. Both belong to Greg.”
He ignored Greg’s barely audible gasp, pulled up the reports on his cell phone and passed it to his brother.
“Greg, you’ve admitted to starting at least four fires.”
“Five.”
Brody’s head whipped around. “Five?” A horrible thought popped into his head. “Santiago’s last night? That was you?”
“Yeah. After I got home, my girlfriend confronted me. She’d heard your messages on the answering machine, and demanded to know if I knew anything about the fire. I lied, told her I didn’t have any idea who’d set the fire at the barn, like I lied to you. But the more I thought about it, I knew you were closing in. I figured if I could distract you, turn your attention in another direction, I’d buy some time to figure a way out.”
“Greg, have you submitted a claim to the insurance company for the fire?” Rafe leaned back in his chair, with a subtle glance at the recorder, still taping Greg’s confession.
“What? No!”
“Why not? After all, that was the point of this whole fiasco, wasn’t it?” Brody couldn’t quite keep the edge out of his question, cutting off the flow of words before he lost his composure. He needed to stay professional and not let the whole situation become personal. Because it felt personal.
“I…I thought I’d better wait. You know, until the property was released. Honestly, I was too scared to file. How stupid is that? I did this to get the insurance money, and then didn’t even ask for it. What can I say, I’m a moron.”
Brody leaned forward, forcing Greg to meet his stare. “Did your mom or dad know what you planned? Did they ask you to set the fire, hoping for the insurance payout?”
“No! Brody, I swear they don’t know anything. They don’t even know about the insurance policy being continued.”
“Are you sure? Because I checked with the carrier, and they said they sent the renewal notice for the recent policy to the address in Florida.”
Greg’s eyes widened even as he shook his head vehemently. “That’s not possible. They mail everything to me in San Antonio. I’ve got all the paperwork, the policy information. It’s all at my place. As far as my parents know, the policy lapsed over two years ago. This is all on me, Brody.”
Brody leaned back. He’d been bluffing, hoping to catch Greg in a lie, glad the Summers weren’t involved. That would have been a blow not only to his dad and momma, but for all the people in Shiloh Springs who liked and respected the Summers. It was going to be hard enough when they found out about Greg’s involvement.
“Talk to me about the fires. Take me through how you did it.”
“All of them, or just the barn?”
“I know how the first two were started, so skip those. How’d you burn the barn down?”
Greg scrubbed his hands across his face, then rubbed his bloodshot eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “You know about the gasoline. I bought it on my way from San Antonio. Filled a container. I had a lot of old beer bottles and some old towels. Made homemade Molotov cocktails. I wiped down the bottles before I filled them. I bought some disposable gloves, but I guess I wasn’t careful enough, if you found prints.”
Rafe placed a bottle of water in front of Greg, who twisted off the cap and guzzled it down before continuing.
“Honestly, after the first two, I thought it would be easier to torch the barn. But it wasn’t, it was ten times harder. I tossed in the first bottle, and the fire refused to catch. Can you believe it? I waited and waited, and nothing. Finally, I tossed in another one, aiming for the wall, and it caught. I used a total of six.” Greg stared off in the distance, as if reliving the moment. “It was oddly beautiful, the flames shooting upward. The colors seemed more vivid, vibrant against the darkness. An ethereal beauty in its simplicity. The fire seemed to dance, sinuous and exotic, shooting sparks. It seemed alive, with a voracious appetite, consuming the building, yet leaving the surrounding area untouched. Like it had a mind of its own and once satisfied, dissipated and disappeared.”
“Tell me about last night. Why burn Santiago’s restaurant?”
“I told you, it was a distraction, to get your attention off our place. If you were focused on putting out the fire there, investigating it, you’d stop looking into a simple old barn fire that didn’t hurt anybody.”
Brody shook his head. “That’s not how it works, Greg. All you’ve done is dig an even bigger hole to bury yourself in. The evidence is mounting.”
“You won’t need the evidence. I confess. I’ll plead guilty, as long as you keep my folks out of this.”
“You know the insurance company won’t pay out for arson, don’t you, Greg? Your parents won’t see a dime. You did all of this for nothing.” Rafe stood and pushed the button on the recorder, shutting it off. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
Greg hung his head, hands twisted in his lap. “Yeah, me too. I did it all for them.”
Brody stood and laid his hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Rafe, place him under arrest. I’ll contact the Texas Department of Public Safety and let them know he’s been apprehended and confessed to multiple arsons.”
With a heavy heart, Brody walked out of Rafe’s office, as Rafe led Greg to an awaiting empty cell. Case solved. So wh
y did the resolution leave him feeling gut punched and sad?
“Brody, wait!” Sally Anne clamored from behind her desk, blocking him from exiting the building.
“Not now. I’ve got to—”
“You’ve got to head to your parents’ house stat. Nica called. Jamie’s missing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Beth raced through the front door of the Big House, out of breath, Camilla close on her heels. Nica stood in the hall, phone to her ear. She held up her hand, and continued her conversation, her voice low, almost a whisper. Beth wanted to shake her, scream at the top of her lungs for her baby. Instead, she sprinted past Nica, head up the stairs. Maybe Jamie was hiding, thinking everything was a big game. She threw open every closed door, calling out her daughter’s name at every single one.
Camilla stayed mere steps behind, arms wrapped across her middle, her face pale and drawn. She looked guilty, and even though Beth wanted to hug her and tell her it wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t stop. Jamie was missing.
“I’ve called Momma and Dad, they’re on their way. Heath’s heading for town, but he’s keeping his eyes open. Brody’s in a meeting with Rafe, and can’t be disturbed. Sally Anne said she’ll tell them as soon as they’re free. I’m alerting the rest of the posse. We’ll find her.”
Beth slumped down onto the edge of somebody’s bed, she wasn’t sure whose. “What happened? Everything was fine when I left.”
“She was playing upstairs. Drawing and coloring a picture for Uncle Brody, that’s what she said. I went outside to chase down Otto. He got out of his pen again. I swear he’s Houdini reincarnated. I wasn’t gone more than five, ten minutes tops. When I came back in, I grabbed some stuff from the fridge, figured I’d whip up sandwiches for everybody for lunch. I though Jamie might like to help, and came upstairs to get her. Only she wasn’t here.”
“You didn’t see anything?”
Nica shook her head. “I’m sorry. I never should have left the house. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. I’m an idiot.”