He flipped through the files and found one labeled, “Pearce Fire.” Another twinge of guilt pricked him as he pulled it from the drawer. He sneaked a glance towards the office door, and then tentatively opened the folder. A minute later, he replaced the folder and headed out the door. Nothing of interest or import had jumped out at him. Just a basic rundown of facts he already knew: The fire started, was reported, firefighters arrived, Travis confessed. Case closed.

He’d gone where he shouldn’t go, for nothing.

Thanks a lot, God.

He didn’t need a response from the Almighty to realize his frustration was misplaced, but he sure would like to catch a break sometime soon. Because he needed one to finish this.

10

James pulled off the road and killed the engine. As he trudged across the snow to the farmhouse, he mulled over the scant information he’d scanned in the Pearce Fire file. Basic facts: A neighbor called it in. The house was engulfed in flames when the fire department arrived. The fire had been deemed arson. Travis was on the scene—on his bicycle. Travis was questioned and subsequently confessed to starting the fire with a cigarette.

As Duane had said: Case closed.

James wandered the charred ruins of the farmhouse trying to pick up any clue at all—if not by physical evidence, then by attrition. If he winnowed what he knew until he could spot the discrepancies, then all that would be left was the truth.

And Travis would be free.

A thought crossed his mind. Travis had been at the football game prior to the fire starting. An away game...

A new gleam of hope flickered in James’s heart.

He headed for the truck.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked into the Kipling fire station. A mix of old, beat-up fire trucks sat parked next to their newer, shinier counterparts. James looked around, and found the volunteer fire chief working on the engine of one of the trucks. “Hey, Ed,” James said. “You got a few minutes? I’d like to talk to you about the Pearce fire.”

“Yep. Long as you don’t mind me working while we talk. I gotta get this one back up and running,” Ed said without taking his eye off the engine.

James nodded even though Ed wasn’t looking. “Yeah, no, that’s fine. I really just need to know how long it was before the Pearce house was fully engulfed.”

“I don’t understand the question,” Ed said.

“How long would you say it was before the Pearce farmhouse was fully engulfed. You know, out of control. How long would that take?”

“That’s a tough one.” He paused, and the syncopated tink of a ratchet notching up echoed through the garage. “But we had a pretty hot end to summer and on into the fall, so everything would have been real dry. Again, it’s hard to say, but I’ve seen places like that go up in a matter of minutes. Curtains, furniture, floorboards; no shortage of fuel.”