Annette Dashofy - Zoe Chambers 03 - Bridges Burned (11 page)

Eleven

“It’s okay, honey.” Farabee climbed the stone steps out of the basement. “You go back inside.”

“No.” Maddie stomped her foot. “What’s going on?”

The pain in Pete’s temple pierced his brain and pressed into his eyes. Just what he needed. A ten-year-old acting like a four-year-old throwing a temper tantrum. “Zoe, can you watch Madison while I take him down to the station?”

“No,” Zoe said, sounding a lot like the little girl. At least Zoe didn’t stomp her feet. “I’m on duty tonight. In fact, I’m going to be late if I don’t get out of here in a few minutes.”

“Where’s Mrs. Kroll?”

“Visiting her husband.” Zoe moved toward Pete and lowered her voice. “What’s going on? Are you arresting Holt?”

“Arresting?” Farabee’s daughter said, her voice growing taut and damp. Damn, the kid had good ears. “Dad?”

Farabee knelt and pulled the girl into his arms. “It’s okay, honey. No one’s going to arrest me.”

Pete wished Holt hadn’t told her that.

While Farabee soothed his daughter, Zoe stepped closer to Pete. “What’s happened?” she demanded in a whisper.

He did not want to discuss Zoe’s idiotic decision to bring Holt Farabee into her home with the man standing right there anymore than he wanted to question him about his wife’s homicide in front of Zoe. And he sure as hell didn’t want to discuss either topic with the little girl around.

“Go get ready for work. We’ll talk later.”

Zoe crossed her arms. “We’ll talk now.”

Terrific. It wasn’t the little girl on the verge of throwing a tantrum. It was Zoe. “Stop being a stubborn jackass. If you want to help, take the girl inside with you.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that, too,” Farabee said. He’d climbed to his feet and rested one hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

Pete rubbed his temple. Fine. If they both insisted he deliver his news with the girl standing right there…“The fire investigators have determined the explosion was not an accident.”

Zoe looked like she’d been slapped.

The color drained from Farabee’s face. He moved his hand from his daughter’s shoulder to the top of her blond head. “Honey, go inside now. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“But, Dad—”

“No buts. Zoe? Take her inside, please.”

Zoe nodded. “Come on, Maddie.” She shot a glance at Pete which he interpreted to mean, “I’ll deal with you later.”

The fact that Zoe accommodated Farabee’s appeal when she’d flat-out refused the same request from Pete wasn’t lost on him either.

“All right, Chief,” Farabee said once the girls had disappeared around the corner. “Ask your questions.”

They retreated to the shade of a massive locust tree at the edge of the yard. Pete dug his notebook and pen from his pocket. “Who had access to your house?”

“You mean a key?”

Pete shrugged.

“No one. Lill and I were the only ones.”

“None of your neighbors?”

“No.”

Pete made a note. Someone else had a key. The bank. But he wasn’t going to offer Farabee an easy way out. “The morning of the explosion. Take me through it.”

Farabee stared at him. Was he trying to think up a story? Or was he hesitant to revisit the day he’d lost his wife?

“You and your wife got up and had breakfast,” Pete prompted.

Farabee blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Lill had a job interview in Brunswick, and I was supposed to meet someone about giving an estimate.”

Pete checked his notes. “Mr. Smith?”

Farabee winced. “Yeah. I’m a sucker, falling for that one, huh?”

Seth had looked into the information Farabee had provided regarding the elusive Smith. The phone number belonged to a photographer who swore he hadn’t called anyone that day. The address was a vacant lot. “Where in Brunswick was your wife’s job interview?”

“At the Home Depot. She left for Brunswick. I dropped Maddie off at her friend’s house and headed out to meet the guy about the estimate.”

“What time did your wife leave the house?”

“Must have been close to eight-fifteen, eight-thirty.”

“And what time did
you
leave?”

“Five or ten minutes later. Maddie was dragging her feet and I was afraid I was going to be late.”

Pete jotted the times in his notebook. “You dropped Maddie off…when?”

“Her friend lives in Dillard, so it only took maybe five minutes to get there. I didn’t even get out of the truck.”

“You left Dillard at about eight-forty-five?”

“Sounds about right. I was supposed to meet Smith at nine. I was a few minutes late, but there wasn’t anyone there. I waited until nine-thirty and then called the number he gave me. It was some photography studio up in Butler County. The guy who answered the phone thought I was nuts.”

So far, Farabee’s story matched what Pete had already learned. “Then what?”

“I was pissed. Like I really need to waste gas on a wild goose chase.” Farabee ran a hand across his mouth, took a couple of steps, and turned to pace back. “I called Lill on her cell. She was all excited. Happier than I’d heard her in a long time. She’d gotten the job.” Farabee’s expression changed from relived anger to agony. “She wanted to stay in town and do some shopping. Get herself some clothes for work and something for Maddie. We haven’t had any money for so long, we’ve been doing without.”

Pete gave him a minute, watching him struggle with raw emotion.

When Farabee continued, his voice was ragged. “I was so damned frustrated about everything, I told her not to spend money we didn’t have yet. But I needed some materials for a cabinet I was building. I asked her to pick up a few things for
me
and to come straight home.” He rubbed his forehead, covering his eyes for a moment. “If only I hadn’t been such a… If only I’d let her do her shopping. If only I’d been the one to go straight home. It would have been
me
in the house. It
should
have been me.”

“You didn’t go straight home?”

“No. I should have. But I was angry and knew I needed to cool down. I drove around a while.”

“Did you stop anywhere?”

“No.”

“Did anyone see you?”

Realization spread across Farabee’s face. “You’re asking if I have an alibi?”

Pete shrugged. “One wouldn’t hurt.”

Farabee looked at Pete as if he had sprouted a second head. “You honestly think I’m responsible—that I had anything to do with—?” Shaking his head, Farabee stalked away, turned, and came back toward Pete with a clenched fist. “I loved my wife, Chief Adams.”

“All marriages have rough spots.”

“We would have gotten through this—” Farabee must have caught his slip and clamped his jaw shut.

Pete pretended he hadn’t noticed, but he jotted a note to go back to Scenic Hilltop Estates and ask Farabee’s neighbors specifically about problems they might have been having. “Is there anyone who might have wanted to do harm to your wife?”

“No,” Farabee snapped.

“You didn’t give a lot of thought to that question.”

Before Farabee had a chance to respond, the screen door on the side of the house slammed, and Zoe, dressed in her paramedic’s uniform, stormed out from what Pete knew was her kitchen. “Stop,” she said as she approached them. “Pete, are you interrogating him without a lawyer?”

Damn it, Zoe. “I’m just getting some information for my investigation.”

“Uh-huh,” she said doubtfully. She pointed a finger at Farabee. “Don’t answer any more questions without your lawyer.”

“I don’t have a lawyer.”

Zoe glared at Pete but directed her words at her new housemate. “I’ll give you the number for one.”

Pete sighed and closed his notebook.

“Where’s Maddie?” Farabee asked.

“In my kitchen having a peanut butter sandwich.” Zoe hoisted a thumb toward the door she’d just come from.

“I’m gonna check on her.” Farabee raised an eyebrow at Pete. “If we’re done here?”

“We’re done,” Pete muttered.

As soon as Farabee had disappeared into the house, Zoe planted her fists on her hips. “Will you please tell me what’s going on?”

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you protecting him?”

“I’m not protecting him. I’m protecting Maddie.”

“And right now, that’s pretty much the same thing?”

“I guess so. She’s just lost her mom. He’s all she has.”

“Hasn’t it occurred to you he might be the reason that little girl’s lost her mom?”

Zoe wavered. “Maybe at first. But not now.”

“At first? You mean at the fire. When you questioned why he was acting like his wife was dead when we didn’t even have a body yet. When you were thinking like a cop,” he reminded her.

“Before I had a chance to get to know him.”

“Know him?” Pete didn’t like the sound of this at all. “You
don’t
know him. You feel sorry for the kid. But you don’t
know
Holt Farabee. You’ve invited a total stranger into your home. A man you met two days ago. A man who may have rigged his house to blow up, killing his wife.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Why? Because you don’t want to believe it?”

“You trust in your gut all the time. Well,
my
gut says he didn’t have anything to do with the explosion.”

“Your gut.” Pete wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her. “In other words you’re trusting your gut, evidence be damned.”

“Evidence? What evidence?”

Pete lowered his voice in case Farabee might be listening through the screen door. “The gas line into the dryer had been tampered with. Farabee has the handyman skills to do that. He has no alibi for the time prior to the explosion.” Zoe opened her mouth to protest, but Pete held up one hand, shushing her. “And I have a sneaking suspicion he and his wife weren’t as happily-ever-after as he’d like everyone to believe.”

Zoe sputtered through several false starts at refuting Pete. Finally, she blew out an angry grunt. “None of that is evidence. A halfway decent defense attorney would laugh you out of court if that’s all you have.”

“I’ve just gotten started.”

“You’re only going after Holt because you don’t like him.”

“And you do?”

She pulled up short. Drew a breath. “Yeah. I do.”

There it was. Zoe had held Pete at arm’s length for months—years. And yet within two days, she was sharing her house with Holt Farabee, trusting his word over Pete’s, and admitting she had feelings for the man. “All right.” Pete nodded. “You go ahead and trust your gut. After all, it’s done a fine job of guiding you with regards to men in the past.”

And without waiting for her reaction, which he assumed would be a slap across his face, Pete stormed past her, heading for his vehicle.

Zoe stood, trembling in the shade of the old locust tree. Chills wracked her body while hot, furious unshed tears burned her eyes. The problem with falling in love with her best friend was he knew about all her skeletons. And he knew which buttons to push to cut the deepest.

She didn’t even realize she’d walked back to her kitchen door. She didn’t remember opening it, stepping inside, or letting it slam behind her. But she blinked and came back to her senses when she looked up and saw Maddie perched on the stool she kept in the corner at the far end of the long narrow room. Holt leaned against the counter next to his daughter, his forehead creased.

“Are you okay?” He sounded as though he expected her to drop dead at any second.

Maddie had stopped eating what was left of her sandwich and stared wide-eyed at Zoe. Did she look that bad?

With a glance at her watch—crap—she said, “I’m late for my shift. There’s a Rolodex on my desk in the other room.” She waved in the general direction of her office. “Look under ‘I’ for Imperatore. Anthony Imperatore. He’s a lawyer and a good one. Give him a call.”

“Zoe, I didn’t—” Holt shot a look at Maddie. “I didn’t do what Chief Adams clearly thinks I did.”

“I know.” Did she? “All the more reason to call Mr. Imperatore and put a stop to this nonsense now rather than later.”

“You’re right. Thanks.”

“I really am late. Lock up when you’re done in here.” Zoe headed for the swinging door into her dining room/living room, but stopped next to Maddie and gave her ponytail a gentle tug. “I’m on duty until Monday morning. Tomorrow, you take your dad out to the barn and introduce him to George, okay?”

The little girl brightened. “Okay. Can I show Dad how to brush him?”

Zoe smiled. “You bet.”

As she hit the door, swinging it open, Holt called out to her. “Zoe?”

She turned to him.

“Thanks.” He tipped his head toward Maddie. “For everything.”

Zoe nodded and pressed on through the door. She grabbed her keys from the table and paused. Had she just traded her long-time friendship with Pete to protect a man she knew nothing about? Did she really trust her gut that much?

Could Pete’s words have hurt this deeply if she didn’t somehow fear he might be right?