Sweet as Honey (Aster Valley 2)

Sam nodded, encouraging me to stop thinking a five-year-old was to blame for the accident. But that wasn’t what I’d meant.

“The Stanner brothers were the ones who left the sled on the ski slope,” I said.

I waited for the volcanic shift I’d always assumed would happen if I ever admitted the truth. It didn’t come.

“It wasn’t me. I was at home in bed,” I added.

Sam took my hand in his. “I thought…”

“I know. They warned me if I told anyone the truth, their uncle would arrest me and put me in jail forever. I believed them. I didn’t know better.”

“How did they get your grandpa’s sled?” Sam asked. Apparently he’d heard enough of the story from Tiller and Mikey to be confused by my admission.

“We’d been at school that day, and everyone was talking about the big snowstorm coming and how everyone was going to sled the next day on the big hill at Lewis Farm. I said I was going to ask my grandpa if I could finally try out his old sled which was this really cool metal sled with a steering wheel attached to control the runners. The Stanner brothers told me they wanted to test it out first, and then they threatened to beat me up if I didn’t sneak it out of my house at midnight so they could try it out.”

Sam’s fingers rubbed across the top of my hands, gently encouraging me.

“So I did. And then… then I guess they left it on the slopes. I didn’t know about the skier who’d run into it and gotten hurt. My dad came to me and asked why grandpa’s sled was outside in the snow. I told him I’d taken it outside and left it by accident. I didn’t want to admit to him that I’d let those boys bully me.”

“But why didn’t you come clean after you realized what had happened?” Sam asked.

“By then, Patrick and Craig had found me. They told me if I blamed it on them, they’d tell everyone my dad gave them the sled and he’d get fired and taken to jail. Then they told me I’d get taken to jail for lying. I know it sounds stupid now, but I was five. And their uncle was a cop. I was terrified.”

Sam sighed. “I understand that. You must have been very scared. But what about later, once you were old enough to know better?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “I did. I told my parents after we moved to Durango. They didn’t believe me. They thought now that I’d seen all the consequences of my actions that night, I was trying to pawn it off on those poor Stanner boys. And wasn’t it bad enough their father lost his job? Then, when I moved back here, their uncle was the sheriff instead of a deputy. There was no way in heck he’d take my word over his nephews, and by then, who cared? No one would believe me after all this time, and the damage was already done.”

It felt good to get it off my chest, but it also left me feeling exhausted and empty. Worse than when I’d woken up still half-drugged with artificial sleep. But I wasn’t done yet.

“I’m tired of covering for them and being scared of them,” I told the fire investigator. “I’m ready to fight.”

He nodded. “Well, we will certainly follow up on this lead, but in the meantime, stay away from them. If that family had anything to do with the arson, it’s going to be a big mess considering the connection to the county sheriff’s office.”

That was an understatement. But it was time for this all to be put to rest once and for all before someone got seriously hurt. I’d had the thought off and on all day that Chaya could have been inside doing inventory or Solo could have come by to use the shop’s printer. Both of them worked part-time at the Honeyed Lemon and had keys to the shop. The idea they could have been caught inside when the fire started was enough to make me sick to my stomach.

“Let me know what other information you need from me,” I told the investigators. “In the meantime, I’m going to hope this arson claim doesn’t mean my insurance won’t cover the damage.”

Dirk leaned forward and met my eye again. “I need to ask where you were last night when the fire began.”

Hadn’t I already told them this? “I was home in bed asleep. Sam can tell you. He left after I was already asleep.”

Dirk looked over at Sam. “What time did you last see Mr. Sweet here at the house?”

Sam’s forehead crinkled in thought. “Maybe eleven thirty or twelve?”

The female investigator—I remembered her name was Gail—flipped back through her notes. “We believe the fire began a little after twelve which means he would have had time to leave here and get to the shop.”