Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 1) - Page 8

“Like I said, smart.” Devon finished straightening up her pets’ messes, then scoured the house until it gleamed.

It didn’t help.

No matter how voraciously she cleaned, the motions of her hands couldn’t keep the turmoil of her thoughts in check. She kept thinking about her mother, and the uneasy feeling she couldn’t shake that something was wrong.

The telephone rang at a little before noon, and Devon plopped on the sofa, grateful for the interruption. It was probably Meredith, now a junior at SUNY Albany, who’d doubtless just opened her eyes and was eager to fill Devon in on the week’s academic and social highlights.

Talking to her kid sister would be good medicine.

Devon plucked the phone off its receiver. “Hello?”

“Devon Montgomery?” an official voice asked.

A prickle of apprehension. “Yes?”

“This is Sergeant Bill Jakes. I’m with the Warren County Sheriff’s Office.”

Warren County? That’s where Lake Luzerne was.

The prickle turned into a jab.

“Does this concern my mother?” Devon asked.

“Sally Montgomery. Yes, I’m afraid so. There’s been a fire. It started sometime around eight o’clock this morning at the cabin where your mother was staying. Unfortunately, that area’s fairly isolated. It took a while for someone living across the lake to spot the blaze and call it in. The air was so cold and dry that the fire spread like crazy. The cabin was already burned to the ground by the time the firefighters got to the scene. Even the surrounding woods were in flames. It took hours to bring things under control.” He cleared his throat. “We’re still searching the debris, but human remains have been found.”

Denial screamed inside Devon’s head. But she forced her thorough, analytical side to kick in. “Do you have any confirmation that any of those remains are my mother’s?”

“No, ma’am.” Another pause. “But, like I said, the fire destroyed everything. What’s left—let’s just say that it’ll take dental records to make any positive IDs.”

“In other words, whoever was inside that cabin was burned beyond recognition,” Devon heard herself say. “In which case, we don’t know who the victim or victims were. It’s possible my mother wasn’t even there at the time.”

“Possible, but unlikely.” He fell silent, clearly uncomfortable about divulging too much detail. As an officer in a small rural community, he rarely dealt with violent loss of life.

Well, he was dealing with it now.

“Go on, Sergeant,” Devon pressed. “I want details. This is my mother we’re talking about.”

“I realize that.” He blew out a breath. “Look, as I mentioned, the location o

f that cabin is fairly isolated. We’ve combed the area, by car and by foot. We even did an aerial search. No sign of your mother. We did find a set of footprints leading into the village of Lake Luzerne. We followed them. We spoke to every single shop owner and employee. The baker and the coffee-shop proprietor remembered your mother. She was in the village around seven thirty. The baker said she’d stopped in, and mentioned being on her way back to the cabin. There were footprints confirming that.”

“Surely there were other sets of footprints in the village.”

“Yes, ma’am, but none that led back to the cabin. Just hers.”

“What about the car? Maybe she—”

“The Mercedes she came in was still parked in the driveway. There were no new tire treads. The car hadn’t been moved. We traced the license plate. The vehicle belonged to Pierson & Company, which was no surprise. We’d already spoken with the owner of the cabin, who’s a business associate of Frederick Pierson’s. He confirmed that he’d loaned the place to Mr. Pierson and a lady friend for the weekend. So there’s little doubt that he and your mother were there. I just notified the Pierson family. They gave me your mother’s contact information.”

Devon didn’t want to talk about the Piersons. She wanted to talk about her mother. “What was the cause of the fire?”

“Undetermined. Maybe a cigarette. Maybe a candle. Maybe even a spark from the fireplace. A thorough investigation to determine the origin of the blaze is under way.”

“So you’re not convinced it was an accident.”

“We have no reason to believe otherwise.” He paused. “Do you?”

Devon gritted her teeth. “I’m not acquainted with Mr. Pierson, so I can’t speak for him. But, as for my mother, she doesn’t have an enemy in the world.”

Tags: Andrea Kane Pete 'Monty' Montgomery Suspense
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