Page 81 of Darkwater Lane

“Oh, you’re right. No formal charges have been filed. Though we do like to keep tabs on persons of interest when we can.”

I’m still bristling. “Get a court order, and we’ll be happy to keep you updated.”

He chuckles. “I hear that’s a beautiful area. How long you guys been up there?”

If he’s fishing, I’m not interested. “What can I do for you, Detective Gutierrez?”

I can hear the smile in his voice. It’s as if he appreciates my directness. “I’m hoping you might have a minute to answer a couple of questions for me.”

“Do I need a lawyer?”

“I can’t answer that for you, Ms. Proctor. Are you requesting one?” If I tell him yes, that will be the end of the conversation, and I still won’t know why he’s calling. My gut is telling me this is information I should know.

“Not yet,” I tell him. “What’s your question?”

“Unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you where you were last night.”

I frown. This isn’t at all where I expected the conversation to go. I’m instantly suspicious. “Why? What happened last night?”

“Your house burned down.” He says it so bluntly it takes a minute for me to process and understand.

I blink, still not sure I heard him right. “Excuse me?”

“The house you were renting—where Leonard Varrus was murdered. A fire broke out a little before eleven last night. Burned it clean to the ground.”

I’m still so stunned by the news that I’m not sure what to say. “What? How?”

“Looks like arson.”

I lean against the outside wall of the barn. This doesn’t make any sense. “But why?”

Gutierrez clears his throat. “We were hoping maybe you could help with that.”

Now, I understand his earlier questions, including his interest in our having moved to Stillhouse Lake. “You think Sam or I had something to do with it.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Not necessarily. Though it would be a convenient way to dispose of evidence.”

“Except that you already cleared the scene,” I point out.

“Maybe we missed something. Now, we’ll never know.”

From his tone, it’s clear we’re serious suspects. “Sam and I were both home last night.”

“You got anyone who can back that up?” he asks.

“My kids.” Though the last thing I want to do is drag them into this.

“Anyone of legal age?” he clarifies.

“We had a detective on the Norton Police Department and her partner, a Marine reservist, over for dinner. They left around eleven. I was up by five. One of our neighbors can verify that.”

“Mr. Cade was with you?”

“The entire time.” That should be enough to clear us from the suspect list. “Now, if that’s all?—”

“I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that,” he says.

Irritation flashes through me. “Of course, it is. It always is,” I say dryly.