Page 83 of Playing With Fire

“It’s when you try and imagine what might have happened.”

The little girl nodded. “Like it might have been a bad person trying to set the whole village on fire and get the insurance. Or maybe a mistake, like that old coot who was sneaking a cigarette like before. Though only a dummy would want to smoke in a shed.”

Both adults watched in fascinated silence as Alma licked a lump of cronut with the precision of a house painter doing the final trim.

“Gramps says that it couldn’t have been Josh and Judah because they’re smart enough to burn the whole shed down properly if they really want to. Though they sure hate that Bonnie. She’s so mean to them.”

Ricky sat up. The kid had a point, and so did Jodi’s grandfather. Any proper arsonist would have levelled the small shed in a few minutes. As for Bonnie and the twins...Ricky filed that nugget away.

He turned to Jodi.

“What about you? Find anything?”

She pulled out her phone. “We did get some high-res shots of the inside.” She winked at Alma, who threw her a thumbs-up before returning to the cronut. “But there’s not much to see. And you have been inside, anyway, looking through this stuff with your X-ray firefighter eyes.”

Shining, untamed hair, smelling of vanilla, floated around her pale face, crackling with static electricity. She leaned forward, sweeping back a long strand with a practiced gesture. The soft blue of her shirt turned her eyes the color of the sea.

Ricky took the offered phone. Their fingers brushed together for a millisecond before she drew back.

The body language was clear: keep your distance, bud. Professional, maybe even cordial relations, but it stops there.

He cleared his throat and busied himself with flicking through the dark images on the screen. “Can’t see much,” he grunted.

Jodi reached across him, bringing a waft of freshly ironed linen and soap. She changed the setting with deft fingers. The interior of the shed was suddenly bathed in an eerie light which defined the outlines of objects and dissolved shadows.

“Impressive,” he said, scrolling through and zooming in. “Can you send these to me?”

“Already done,” said Jodi briskly.

“Can I have a look?” Alma licked the last sugar crystal from her fingers.

Ricky passed the phone over. He watched the little girl toggle the filters with ease.

“What’s that?” Alma asked.

Ricky leaned over and squinted. “That’s the camping equipment I told you about.”

Alma grunted, fiddled some more with her sticky fingers.

“Just a couple of charred back packs stuffed with clothes and beat-up tennis shoes,” he added.

Jodi moved her chair closer to get a better view. Ricky eased back his shoulder until she was almost nestled in his arm. She furrowed her brow slightly but didn’t draw away.

Alma’s fingers danced over the screen.

“Those are Wandering Wolf backpacks. And they’re almost new...see the straps? Josh and Judah have some just like that.”

***

Monday morning dawned. Clouds hung heavy and low, and the air was cold and damp enough to sour any thoughts of dipping into the spring wardrobe.

Jodi stared at the rack of crisp monochrome blouses and severely cut skirts and pants in blues, black, and grey. Her eyes were scratchy and her head was thick from a sleepless night.

Because the truth was that Bonnie’s words had hit their mark. However Jodi tried to focus on the unfolding disaster around the twins, she couldn’t dismiss the ache of knowing that Ricky had withheld the truth about why he was back home.

He was looking for someone. Someone who needed him. One of Chrissie’s friends? A runaway, a kid fleeing abuse like Joshua and Judah? Maybe a new lady love, some delicate flower who had swooned becomingly in the arms of the handsome firefighter...

Jodi glanced at herself in the long mirror.

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