“You’ll have to ask the fire crew. Right now, your daughter needs you—and I need to go.” She strode out to her vehicle. By the time she drove away, Bethel had already hurried inside. Abner followed her.
Vonda, looking so young and scared that it almost broke his heart, was sitting up in bed, clutching her baby in her arms. She was wearing a clean nightgown, and the sheets looked as if they’d been changed. But his daughter’s face was pale, her hair plastered in damp strings around her face. She was gazing down at her infant son, as if she had no idea what to do with him.
Bethel was bustling around the room, straightening this and that, avoiding eye contact with her daughter. His wife would come around, Abner thought. It just might take some time.
“Hello, Daddy.” Vonda managed a wan smile. “Would you like to hold my baby? His name is Ralph—Ralph Junior.”
Abner took his grandson and cradled him close. The pink, puckered face, flattened nose, and tiny, waving hands tugged at his heartstrings—a familiar ache that felt strangely sweet.
Abner knew he wasn’t the best man in the world. He’d skated the edge of dishonesty more times than he liked to think about. But he loved his family. The instant bond with this little boy was like the closing of a lock. Whatever happened, he vowed, he would protect this child and see that he and his mother never wanted for anything. He’d been wrong about a lot of things, like letting Bethel banish their daughter. But nothing could be more right than the fierce love he felt for this small, new life. In every way it made him want to be a better man.
Vonda looked up at him. “Daddy, where’s Ralphie? He’s supposed to be here.”
Abner shook his head, knowing he had to face the hurt in her eyes.
“Has something happened to him?” Her voice broke. “Is that why you and Mama are here?” Her gaze widened as the truth struck her. “No!” she whispered. Then her voice broke into a keening wail. “No! Please, God, not Ralphie! No! No!”
“It’s all right, honey.” Bethel leaned over the bed to gather her daughter in her arms. “It was God’s will, to pay for your sin and bring you back to us. We’re here now. We’ll take care of you.”
* * *
Abner and Bethel had agreed it would be wise to take Vonda and the baby to the hospital. While Bethel got her ready to go, Abner stepped out onto the stoop and called in a pair of his deputies to investigate the fire. He would follow up on his own, later in the day. The blaze at the Tyler place was too well-timed to be an accident. He would bet money there was arson involved, maybe murder as well. And the key to it all could be his late son-in-law.
Abner had never thought much of Ralph Jackson. The boy was short on brains and ambition, and he hadn’t made much effort to keep Vonda happy. But at least, with the Tylers, he’d had a secure job and a place to live. It didn’t make sense that he’d risk it all by setting fire to the barn.
Maybe somebody else had set the fire and Ralph had caught them in the act. That could be reason enough to get him killed—but that theory would have to wait for the coroner’s report. Abner was no Sherlock Holmes. But along with his experience and the reading he’d done, he knew how crime solving worked. If he could put this case to bed, it would raise his standing with the county government and the voters. Maybe, then, Clay Drummond would stop treating him like a damned stooge.
Bethel was taking her time getting Vonda ready for the hospital trip. Probably a lot of emotion going on. Abner was getting restless, when his gaze fell on Ralph’s old truck. As long as he was here, just standing around, it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.
He pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box he kept in his SUV, tugged them on, and walked over to the truck.
The driver’s-side door was unlocked. No sign of the keys, but Ralph could’ve had them in his pocket. The floor was littered with empty Dos Equis beer cans and Snickers wrappers. Mummified French fries, cookie crumbs, and empty ketchup packets were lodged in the crease below the seat backs.