Then there was Ed. Maybe his records weren’t quite right, but then why would they not be? A volunteer who took the time to keep files wouldn’t then keep shoddy ones, would he? Ed could be mistaken, James supposed, but Ed was convincingly adamant about his own meticulousness.

Earl Jackson was the kicker. He reported the fire…and he was defensive about why he hadn’t been on scene. What if Earl had started the fire, and then gone back to his house before calling it in?

But what motive did Earl have? Perhaps he didn’t get along with Mr. Pearce. Mary said the Pearces had fit in and been beloved by the entire town; that’s why the tragedy had hit everyone so hard; but then Travis and Pearce evidently didn’t get along. Travis had said Pearce wanted to be rid of him. Duane had said it was common knowledge that Travis and Pearce didn’t get along. It wasn’t a stretch to think that Pearce may have had issues with other people.

But why would Travis confess if he didn’t do it?

James sighed. He was going back and forth more often than a clock pendulum, and he felt like time was running out. Somewhere in this mess was a logical conclusion to a puzzling crime.

He drove past the green-and-white highway sign marked TAFT, and his heart rate picked up a beat. Maybe the football coach could shed some light. He made his way through town and pulled into the parking lot of Taft High School, past a parked yellow school bus and around to the large gymnasium.

A blast of cold air hit him as he hopped out of the truck and headed inside. The wind had picked up a bit in the time it had taken him to drive from Earl’s. James cinched up the zipper on his coat and ducked his head.

Inside the gym, a girls’ volleyball team practiced on the hard court.

James moved along the sideline and around the corner to the coach’s office. The man sat at his desk writing notes. James knocked on the open door. “Coach?”

He looked up. “Yeah.”

“My name’s Jim Moore.” He waited a beat for the coach to go all mushy with recognition, but it didn’t happen. Both surprised and pleased, James gave the guy a quick smile.

“What can I do for you?”

“Looks like you got quite a team there,” James said as he motioned behind him towards the gym. The squeak of sneakers on polished wood mingled with animated female voices.

“Would be if they didn’t play like a bunch of girls.”

James smiled. “You don’t look like a volleyball guy.”

“Yeah? Darn near failed science when I went here, and now I teach chemistry. We wear many hats. Welcome to public education.”

“I hear you also coach varsity football.”

The coach sat up straight. “Please tell me you got a kid who wants to play. I’m down to less than twenty boys most of them doing serious double duty.” The expectation and hope in his tone almost made James sad to let the guy down.