Page 10 of Head Room (Caught Dead in Wyoming #15)

Possibilities tumbled around in my mind.

Was the fire set, as the accelerant pattern implied?

If it was, for what reason?

Destroying forensic evidence topped the obvious list.

Obscuring the identity of the dead body found on the scene stood out as another possible explanation — if a dead body could stand, out or otherwise.

That raised the other factors inside the cabin.

The body sustained damage to the head and torso, yet the boots were intact enough to point toward an identification.

The items in the metal box were in the right location to have the best chance to survive.

No more time for tumbling, because I’d arrived at the sheriff’s department door.

Ferrante was behind the counter this time.

But before I came up with a way to get past him, he grumbled, “He’s in back.” Then turned away.

Good thing, because otherwise he might have seen my delight, quickly followed by the educated guess that he didn’t know I’d already been here and used up Shelton’s one-time-only-send-her-directly-back-dispensation.

As much as it bugged Ferrante to send me back, how much sweeter was it that he did it in error?

Richard Alvaro appeared at the other end of the hallway, emerging from a door I knew led to an interview room that doubled as a temporary office.

He stared at me a moment. I smiled. He headed my way, but I didn’t wait for him to arrive to enter Shelton’s office.

I sat in the chair across from his desk.

He growled, “You again.”

Before I responded, Richard appeared in the doorframe. Shelton waved him in.

“I credit you with enough intelligence to know I wouldn’t have returned without cause, so I would expect you to be curious,” I said to the sergeant.

“You found something at the fire scene.”

“Proving you caught my smoky scent.”

Alvaro stifled an amused sound, which earned him frowns from both Shelton and me.

“You also knew—” I added, turning back to Shelton, “—I wouldn’t come back for a social visit. Not tough to reach that conclusion.”

He grunted. “What?”

That was shorthand for what did I find.

I could make him earn it. But that would delay getting home for a shower and change of clothes to shed the smoke.

“A pattern that will make you or the fire department or both immediately open an arson investigation.”

I had his attention. “Pattern.”

“The fire was stronger in certain areas and not as strong in others—”

“The boots,” Richard muttered.

“—explaining preserving the boots that pointed toward identifying the body as Sergeant Frank Jardos.”

“Pattern,” Shelton repeated, making it a demand.

I took out the extra flash drive Diana made and gave me before we parted. “You’ll see it.”

“Why didn’t the firefighters—?”

I cut off Richard’s question to hurry this along. The smoke smell was stronger in this small office than the open firehouse bay. “Diana spotted it through her camera. She can explain if you need that detail. Basically, the filter she used made it easier to spot. You’ll see it.”

“You can’t run a story on this.”

“You think I’d give it to you first if we intended to?”

His honesty might have pushed him to say no, but he didn’t want to acknowledge anything close to cooperation from me.

Mixed in was his gauging that I might use that acknowledgment as permission to use my judgment about not giving him information in a future circumstance.

I liked all that.

Especially because it kept him occupied with those considerations, so he didn’t come back to potentially asking questions about anything else about the scene . . . like me receiving a paper bag from Hannah, currently under the dog hammock in the back seat of my SUV.

I’d have no compunction about lying to him should he ask if I’d noticed or learned anything else on the scene, but why waste a lie if unneeded.

I stood. “You can thank me later. I want to go home and take a shower.”

“Good idea,” Richard muttered.

When I glared at him, he dropped his head, but not fast enough to mask a grin.

Shelton said nothing as I left.