When Secrets Strike

“But...” Sarah frowned, visualizing the scene. “There wouldn’t have been any gasoline stored in an unused barn. Anyone would know better than that.”

At least, she’d think so. Gus Hill drove a rattletrap old pickup that looked as if it were held together with binder twine, but surely he wouldn’t do something so foolish as to store gas in the barn.

Fielding made a noise that might have been agreement. “Did you approach the barn once you got there?”

“I checked the cottage first, looking for the caretaker, but it was empty. Then I went to the barn. I had to be sure the caretaker wasn’t inside, you see.”

Unlike Aaron, Fielding didn’t criticize that decision. “How could you see inside? Did you open the door?”

“No, I didn’t have to. The door was standing wide open.”

He nodded, and she understood now what he was thinking. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

“The doors are usually closed. I’ve passed that barn a hundred times and never seen them standing open before.”

“Why? I mean, what’s the point of the doors being open?” Allison didn’t bother to disguise her interest.

“Someone might have left them open to allow the air to get at the fire,” Sarah said. “That would feed the flames.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.” Fielding peered at her again.

Maybe she’d better not volunteer opinions so quickly, with the investigator writing down her words.

“Anyone who burns trash knows that much,” she pointed out.

He made another note on his pad. “Could you tell where the flames were concentrated when you first got there?”

Sarah tried to put herself back in the jolting buggy, urging the frightened mare up the lane. The image rose in her mind.

“The two back corners,” she said without hesitation. “At first I thought it was just one, but then I saw the other burning, too. I remember that’s how it appeared at first, and then after I’d checked the cottage and looked again, the whole back was in flames.”

“Moving fast?” He tilted his head to one side, his eyes intent, looking like a robin that spied a juicy worm.

Sarah shivered. “It seemed so to me. When I looked in the front to see if anyone was there, the flames seemed to race toward me across the floor in kind of a narrow path.”

Fielding made a satisfied sound and jotted a few more words in his notebook. Then he snapped it shut decisively. “Good. That’s all for now, but I might want to talk to you again.”

Sarah couldn’t imagine what else there was to say, but she nodded. “I’m usually here during the day and home in the evening.”

“Don’t take any trips without letting the police know,” he said shortly, then headed for the door like a man in a hurry.

Allison waited until the door had closed behind him before she spoke. “Condescending jerk,” she muttered. “I’d have told him a thing or two about his attitude, but I knew you didn’t want me to.”

Sarah shrugged. “He probably hasn’t been around the Amish much.”

“That’s no excuse for rudeness,” Allison snapped. “You are a witness, not a suspect.”

“He probably thinks everyone is a suspect.” She frowned, uneasy. “I hope he doesn’t stir up trouble.”

“What was all that about, anyway? You seemed to understand the importance of where the fire was when you first saw it, but I didn’t.” Allison pushed a wing of coppery hair behind her ear.

“When I drove up the lane, the smoke was coming from the two back corners.” Sarah visualized the scene again. “I didn’t even realize that until he asked me the question. Don’t you see? An accidental fire wouldn’t start in two different places at the same time.”

“So that means someone started it.” Allison considered the idea for a moment. “Well, we’ve suspected it all along, so I’m not exactly shocked.”

“It means more than that,” Sarah said, her voice dragging as she saw the implications. “It means that the fire had been started a short time before I saw the smoke. So when I reached the barn, the arsonist couldn’t have been far away.”

“You didn’t see anyone? No, of course not, or you’d have said.” Allison answered her own question.

“Not a glimpse.”

Sarah had a sudden image in her mind of a faceless figure lurking in the woods, watching her run toward the barn, and her stomach turned over. He’d been there, whoever he was. He could have seen her, and she’d never known it.

* * *

“CAN WE GET any treat we want?” Lena tilted her head to one side and gazed up at Aaron as they entered the sunny interior of the coffee shop across the street from Blackburn House late in the afternoon. “A doughnut would make my arm feel better.”

Anna gave her little sister a skeptical look. “Shots don’t hurt after they’re over,” she pointed out.

“Lena was a brave girl when the doctor gave her the shots,” Aaron said peacefully. “And you were very patient to wait. So you each get a treat, so long as you promise to eat your supper when you get home.”

“I promise, Daadi,” Anna said quickly, and Lena nodded vigorously.

Ella, the cheerful Amish widow who ran the restaurant, came to the counter as they approached. “My, look at these two big girls. What brings you to town today?”

“I got my shots so I can go to school this year,” Lena announced. “And we get to have a treat.”

“That is a special event,” Ella said. “It deserves a special treat. What will you have?”

While the girls pondered, pressing their faces against the glass case to debate the merits of crullers and peanut butter doughnuts, Ella glanced at him. Her perpetually flushed face was concerned.

“Have you heard? The man from the state police is in Laurel Ridge to look into the fires. And none too soon, I’d say. The damage—”

Aaron shook his head, glancing at the girls. They’d had enough trauma in their young lives with losing their mother. He didn’t want them losing sleep fearing a fire.

Ella, stricken, snapped her lips closed and seemed to be trying to think of something else to say. He saw that Anna was watching her, apprehension lurking in her blue eyes.

“Anna and Lena. How nice to see you today.” The door closed behind Sarah, and she advanced on his daughters, smiling. “What are you doing in town?”

Lena, distracted, began to repeat the story of her injections. She even insisted on pushing her sleeve up so Sarah could see her bandage.

“You’ll be all ready for school, won’t you? And you’re so lucky.” She reached out a hand to draw Anna closer. “Because your sister is going into third grade already, and she knows everything there is to know about first grade. She can tell you all about it, ain’t so, Anna?”

Anna brightened, clasping Sarah’s hand. “Ja, that’s right.”

Aaron watched, smiling a little. What a shame it was that Sarah had never married. She’d certain sure have made a good mother, seeming to understand his kinder by instinct. He’d never pictured Sarah, of all people, being a maidal. But when he thought about who she might have married, the question stymied him. Was there anyone he’d have thought good enough for his friend?

Still chatting to them about school, Sarah got the girls settled at a table, and Ella brought them their doughnuts.