Burn You Twice - Mary Burton Page 0,98
apron pocket, already sporting her order pad. “Sure thing.”
Dan Tucker winced as he slowly slid off his blood-soaked pants and eased into the recliner in his living room. The knife wound in his thigh still oozed blood and showed no signs of letting up. Reaching for a handful of paper towels sitting on the side table along with gauze and a six-pack, he pressed the wad to the injury. As pain shot up his leg, he hissed in a breath. “Motherfucker.”
Absorbing the burn, he grabbed a beer, popped the top, and gulped the full can. He glanced at the paper towels, now soaked in blood, and tossed them in the trash. He grabbed another wad and a fresh beer. He repeated this process for nearly a half hour before the blood had slowed enough for him to be able to wind the gauze around the wound. He damn near could have bled out.
He fished his cell from his pants and hit “Redial.” Seconds later, he heard a slurred “Yeah.”
“Where were you?” Dan asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What the hell do you think I mean? We were going after him. You were supposed to have my back.”
“Yeah, I got hung up at work.”
Dan tipped his head back, pissed at the lame excuse.
“Did you go after him without me?”
“Yeah,” Dan said.
“How did it go? Did you teach him a lesson?”
Dan glanced down at the white gauze wrapped around his thigh. “It went great.”
“Seriously?”
“No.”
“So what’s next?”
Dan popped his last beer. “Next time, I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”
Confessions of an Arsonist
All the blazes that I have set have been rehearsal for my final act.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Missoula, Montana
Thursday, September 10, 2020
4:15 p.m.
Joan pulled up to the Baileys’ to a large inflatable bouncy house, a cotton-candy machine, and blaring music. There was no sign of the birthday boys or the party guys, but she suspected kickoff time had to be any minute.
She pushed through the front door to find Ann standing in the center of dozens of red, white, and blue balloons dangling from the ceiling.
“Isn’t he a little old for this?” Joan asked.
“He might be, but I have one last year before he won’t want anything like this.”
“Even if he thinks he’s too big, he’ll still secretly appreciate the gesture.” Joan plucked a potato chip from a bowl. “Where are the half-birthday boys?”
“Upstairs. The other kids should be here in about a half hour.”
A car pulled up outside, and both turned to see Clarke’s SUV parking in the circular driveway. Out of the car, he glanced at the house, frowned, and then reached inside for two neatly wrapped packages. He strode toward the house and rang the bell.
Ann glanced at Joan and then forced a smile. “Here we go.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Nate!” Ann shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “Your dad is here.”
“Coming.”
Joan strode to the door and opened it. “Clarke.”
The smile on his face stiffened. “Joan. You’re becoming a real fixture here.”
“I’m like a bad penny,” she joked.
He didn’t look amused. “Is Ann here?”
“Right here,” Ann said from behind Joan.
“Is the shed still fully extinguished?” Clarke asked.
“I spoke to the ranch manager, and he’s having it cleared away this weekend. Thankfully, we didn’t have much equipment stored there, so the loss was minimal.”
“The damage might have been minimal this time, but the threat is still here,” he said.
Joan grimaced. “By separating myself from Ann, we’ll at least know who the real target is.”
“That’s little comfort. Ann is still in danger,” Clarke said.
“Clarke, I am being careful,” Ann said.
“Have you two heard about the cabin fire?” Clarke challenged.
“I haven’t,” Ann said as her expression became more serious.
“My buddy in Granite County said that the Halpern cabin burned, with Jessica Halpern in it.”
“That’s awful,” Ann said. “Joan, you knew about this?”
“I was with Gideon when the call came in. He allowed me to tag along. Professional curiosity.”
“But that’s not your jurisdiction,” Clarke said.
Joan ignored the comment. “By the way, Clarke, did you hear Elijah was assaulted? He’s in the hospital.”
Ann’s wide-eyed expression gave away her surprise, but Clarke’s perpetually annoyed scowl was harder to read.
“Elijah shouldn’t be in town,” Clarke said. “He’s asking for trouble. I’m not the only one who thinks he’s the arsonist.”
“Have you found evidence that proves it?” Joan asked.
“Not yet. But it’s a matter of time, and then everyone will see that he has not reformed one bit.”
Hurried footsteps hustled down the stairs. “Hey, Dad!”
“Hey, Uncle Clarke,” Kyle said.
Clarke’s expression softened as the boys approached the stairs. “Hey, guys. Happy half birthday.”
“Thanks!” Nate,