Page 32 of Ambush

“Another fire?” Greene asked when he came on the line.

Blake could hear the smirk in his voice. The guy should be fired. “No, worse than fire. Explosives.” As he explained what he’d found, he spotted Paradise walking his way holding a beer can. “Hang on.” He jogged to meet her and saw the blasting cap wire sticking out the top. “You shouldn’t have touched that. It could have blown up. Set it gently on the ground and back away.” He wanted to yank it out of her hands and protect her, but that might set it off. “Put it down, Paradise. Right now and very gently.”

Her amber eyes went wide, and she set it on the mud gingerly, then they both backed away. “Greene, you there?”

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

“Paradise found an incendiary device in a beer can.”

“A beer can?” His voice rose a notch. “We recovered one of those from the fire at your cottage.”

“You never mentioned it.”

“We’re still investigating, and you and your mom are still suspects in that fire.”

“We have alibis,” he reminded the detective.

“There was a timer on it.”

Blake didn’t need the detective to explain what that meant. It changed everything, and the attention from the police would be squarely back on him and Mom. He ended the call with Greene.

Paradise wore a worried frown. “He’s not taking it seriously?”

“Worse than that. Mom and I are under suspicion. They found a similar device in the house, and it had a timer. Our alibis mean nothing now. Creed seems certain we torched our own property for the insurance money. And with that suspicion hanging over our heads, the payout to replace what was lost will be delayed. We’re stuck until the real culprit is found.”

“I’m sorry. What can we do?”

He checked the time on his phone. Four o’clock and his duties were over for the day. “I doubt Hez has dug up anything yet, so there isn’t much we can do about stuff here. How about we try again to catch the prior sheriff’s wife?”

She smiled, and he spotted the gratitude in her face. It would help him to focus on something else for now. Something other than how he could have lost her just now, and he’d realized just how deep his emotions still went.

Chapter 15

The house where Gerald Davis had lived was down a quiet street in Pelican Harbor. Paradise peered through the passenger window as Blake pulled his truck onto the freshly raked oyster-shell driveway and shut off the engine. The ranch had been built in the seventies but had been updated with dark paint and white shutters. She had a vague memory of visiting here with her mother once. Was her mother friends with Bea Davis?

An older woman straightened from a squat at the flower bed by the porch and shielded her eyes from the sun. A wide-brimmed straw hat covered the top of her salt-and-pepper hair that curled around her face in the humidity. Paradise didn’t really recognize her, but then, she was just a little girl when she’d last been here.

Paradise got out of the truck and approached. “Mrs. Davis?”

“Call me Bea, honey. Even though I’m seventy, Mrs. Davis will always be my mother.” Her soft drawl held a hint of southern sweet tea and black-eyed peas. She removed cloth gloves stained green at the fingertips. “You seem familiar.” She took off her hat and wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “But you’rewith the handsome Blake here, so you’re automatically a friend. I could use some sweet tea, how about y’all?”

“We wouldn’t say no,” Blake said. “And this is Paradise Alden. We’d like to chat a bit if you don’t mind.”

The warmth faltered on Bea’s face. “You don’t say. It’s been a minute since you were around these parts.” She motioned for them to come with her, and they followed her into the cool interior that held on to the sweet aroma of some kind of treat—maybe cookies.

Bea gestured to the tan sofas facing each other. “Gerald remodeled it for me before he died. He didn’t hang around long enough to enjoy it though.”

“It’s lovely,” Paradise said.

And it was. White walls contrasted with wide plank floors in a light color. The living room held comfortable tan furniture that created a neutral vibe with the decor in different shades of white. Pictures of white-haired Bea with young children hung on a wall. “Your grandchildren?”

Bea beamed. “I have eight. Each of our four had two. They are my world.” She turned toward the wide opening into the dining room. “Have a seat and I’ll be right back with tea.”

Paradise sank onto the comfortable sofa and Blake joined her. She glanced around at the pictures, barely remembering the burly sheriff who grinned out of the frames beside Bea and two daughters who were carbon copies of their mother. The tinkle of ice came from beyond the dining room as she gathered her thoughts about what to ask. Gerald might not have been the type who talked about his cases with his wife. Still, the murders had affected the whole town. Bea should have picked up something about it all.

“Here you go.” Bea approached with a tray of glasses and a pitcher.

Paradise accepted a frosty glass of sweet tea and took a sip. “You could give lessons on how to properly prepare sweet tea.”

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