Dread slammed into him. What if something had happened to Maggie after their phone call? Why hadn’t he gone back instead of letting her talk him into going home? “Is Maggie all right?” he managed to ask.
At the mention of Maggie’s name, Featherstone’s face went florid. He appeared to be on the verge of an outburst, but he held himself in check, most likely because the sheriff had ordered him to.
“Maggie is fine,” Marsden said. Travis began to breathe again until the sheriff continued. “This isn’t about her. The Christmas tree lot at Hank’s Hardware was burned down last night. The firemen were barely able to save the store. We have a very reliable witness who claims to have seen you set the blaze.”
The cold fear that struck Travis went clear to the bone, but he knew he couldn’t show it. “Then your so-called reliable witness is lying,” he said. “I drove by the place about that time on my way home. There was no fire. I didn’t see anybody there, and I didn’t stop.”
“Is there any way you can prove that?” Marsden was only doing his job, Travis told himself. It was Featherstone who would do anything to take him out.
“I was tailed by a dark sedan, from the time I left Maggie’s until after I passed the hardware store. I’m guessing your so-called witness was the one driving it. Nobody else saw me. But my first thought was that somebody who meant to harm Maggie was following me to make sure I was gone. I called to warn her. But she insisted she was all right.”
“Of course, she was. That was me driving!” Featherstone spoke up in spite of the sheriff’s warning look. “I was patrolling the streets, looking for kids out past curfew. When I spotted you, I wanted to make sure you weren’t up to something. So yes, I followed you. And I saw you light the fire.”
The bottom seemed to drop out of Travis’s world. The little bastard was lying through his teeth and might have even started the fire himself. But there wasn’t a shred of proof against his story. It was the word of a sworn law officer against the word of an ex-convict.
Travis could almost hear the cell door clanging shut behind him. Lord help him, he didn’t have a prayer. But if he was going down, he would go down fighting.
“For the record, Sheriff, I didn’t do it. The fire started after I passed the hardware store. Why don’t you ask the constable, here, how he knew it was me? It was dark, and I was driving my partner’s Jeep.”
“That’s an interesting question, Constable,” Marsden said. “How did you know?”
Featherstone glanced at his boots. “Because his Jeep was parked outside Maggie’s house. When he came outside to leave, the porch light was on. I saw him plain as day.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “So you were watching Maggie’s house? Why?”
“To protect her. I’d warned her that this man was trouble, but she wouldn’t listen. I wanted to make sure she was all right.”
“But you said you were looking for curfew violators when you saw him,” the sheriff said.
Featherstone blanched, but then recovered. “Sorry for the fib. I thought it best not to bring Maggie’s name into this, given her position as mayor and all.”
“But I’d already mentioned Maggie,” Travis said. “I mentioned her before you lied about where you saw me. You say you saw me start the fire, Featherstone. How did I start it?”
“Uh . . . with matches. You threw them through the fence, at the nearest trees. When they started to burn, you tossed
the rest of the matches into the fire and drove away. That was when I called nine one one. And it’s a good thing I did, or the whole store would’ve gone up in smoke.”
At that point, Travis was about ninety percent sure Featherstone had started the fire. But so far, there was no proof against him—only the vague shadow of the lie he’d told.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this later, after I’ve investigated the alleged crime scene,” the sheriff said. “Meanwhile, Morgan, I’ll be taking you in for questioning.”
“Am I under arrest?” Travis had gone cold inside.
“Not yet. But I’d advise you to come back to the station with me.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Conner, with Rush, had come up to stand behind Travis. “This man hasn’t done anything wrong. You don’t have the right to take him.”
“It’s all right, Conner.” Travis knew better than to resist. “This is just a misunderstanding. Go ahead and open for business. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
But as the sheriff ushered him toward the SUV, Travis knew that he was the leading suspect in a case of malicious arson. He had means, motive, opportunity, and no alibi. He was in trouble over his head.
As he was about to climb into the rear seat, he turned back to face his partners. “One thing,” he said. “Whatever you do, for God’s sake, don’t tell Maggie.”
* * *
Maggie was in her office, debating whether to go home for lunch or grab a snack out of the vending machine when the receptionist relayed word that the sheriff was outside. She welcomed him in. “You’re looking far too serious today. Did you learn any more about the fire?”
“Some. For now, I’d like to keep the details to myself, but I did find evidence that it had been deliberately set.”