fragment in her pocket. If Clarke had set the recent fires, then it was plausible that he had also set the College Fire. Framing Elijah would have been the perfect way to eliminate a rival.
The same gut feeling that had convinced her that Avery had set her fire was even stronger now. But in a court of law, feelings meant nothing.
Dan was not sure what had woken him up from his drunken stupor. He reached for a beer but found only empty cans on the side table. He glanced at the sweatpants covering the thick bandage and was pleased to see that the bleeding had finally stopped. He had been lucky. Elijah had been so quick with the blade that he never saw it.
That would be the last time he brought a baseball bat to an ambush. The next time it would be a gun and a lot more caution.
The back of his neck tingled, and he had the faintest sensation that something was off. But before he could process the feeling, a plastic bag was slipped over his head and quickly tightened around his neck.
He sucked in air, using up what little remained inside the bag. He reached up for the hands holding the bag, but the booze combined with a lack of oxygen made his movements sloppy and ineffective.
The air gone, his senses screamed as panic cut through him, his head dropped back, and his world went black.
Joan called the hospital and discovered that Elijah had been released, so she drove to the boardinghouse, where she found him sitting on the front porch.
When she walked up, he moved to rise and winced, so she beckoned him to sit. “I thought they were going to keep you another day.”
“As you already know, I’m not fond of confinement.” He shifted in his rocker and leaned back until he seemed to settle on a comfortable spot.
“Do your doctors know you left?” she asked.
“I’m sure they do by now.” He sniffed. “How was the half-birthday party?” he asked.
“You know about that?”
He shrugged. “I keep up.”
She sat in the rocker beside him and steered the conversation away from the boys. “I would like to run a hypothetical scenario past you.”
His eyes brightened with interest. “All ears.”
“If someone had several empty milk jugs, rags, and gasoline in their house, what conclusion would you draw about them?”
“You have not given me enough variables,” he said. “What else can you tell me about the individual?”
“All those elements could be put together to make an incendiary device.”
“Sure. But it’s certainly not a given.”
“This person burned papers on a backyard grill.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary there, either, Joan.”
“Could a small, controlled fire on a grill be a way of a guy letting off steam?”
“Maybe. It’s also an efficient way to dispose of important papers. Identity theft is a real problem these days. My cellmate was doing time for that very crime.”
She should have been having this conversation with Gideon, but he would never have approved of her methods. And he had been Clarke’s friend since childhood. Their boys were best friends. As much as she wanted to do it all by the book, she wanted—no, needed—to catch the arsonist more.
“We can keep playing this game of guess who,” Elijah said. “Or you can tell me what you’ve really been up to.”
It was so tempting to trust him and tell him about her suspicions of Clarke. He had a calm voice that lulled her into believing that they had somehow become friends. But they were not friends. She sensed in her gut that though he might not have set the fires, he had an agenda that might one day put them at odds. She recalled the scorpion and the frog fable and was damn sure she was not going to end up the poor, trusting frog.
“Maybe later. I need more before I name names.”
“Be very careful, Joan. If you know about this individual, chances are you’re on his radar.”
“Where have you been?”
Gideon’s rough voice reached out from the darkness, halting Joan midstep as she approached the side entrance to the garage apartment. She paused and turned slowly, doing her best to look casual.
“You startled me.”
He stepped out of the shadows. “Where have you been? Ann said you left a couple of hours ago.”
“Checking up on me?”
“I thought you might have gotten lost on the road.”
“You could have called me.”
“I did. Twice.”
She reached for her phone and glanced at the Two missed calls. She turned her ringer back on. “Sorry