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“It’s the second fire you’re connected to that you mysteriously don’t know anything about. Somebody might think you’ve got it in for your employers.”
Hoyt nearly exploded off the sofa. “She didn’t lock herself in the goddamned closet and levitate a chair underneath the door handle to lock herself in. Someone tried to kill her. Get your head out of your ass and work this case properly instead of letting your personal prejudice get in the fucking way.”
Carson scowled. “Watch yourself, boy.”
This time, Hoyt did stand. Drew and Thompson were both there to block him from access to the chief of police.
Thompson maintained his reasonable tone. “Sit back down, Hoyt.”
Hoyt’s shoulders were heaving as he glared daggers toward Carson, but at length, he sat.
“Clearly, she didn’t set the fire herself. That’s objectively impossible. We’re looking for someone else. But it’s possible there could be a connection to you. That it might be a hate crime directed toward you and your family. Both the beach house fire and this one strike at your means of income. It’s possible that someone is trying to drive you off island. Can you think of anyone who’d want to do that?”
Over the past two years, we’d faced so much hatred and prejudice. But had anyone seemed so determined that they’d go to this much trouble to get rid of us?
“Not that I can think of. A lot of people have made snide remarks or been outright ugly to all of us. But no one seemed angry enough to do something like this.”
“What about Chet Banks? You had some kind of run-in with him and Marcus Hoffman.”
I glanced at Hoyt. “It wasn’t exactly me who had the run-in. I make it a policy not to react, but Hoyt defended me to them and got into a verbal altercation.” That felt like a lifetime ago.
“And Troy Lincoln?”
“We’ve had him under surveillance since the vehicle fire,” Carson interrupted. “He wasn’t anywhere near this.”
“Are you sure?” Thompson prompted. “Have you spoken to the officer assigned to watch him? Or have you slacked off since everything’s been quiet until now?”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job, Thompson.”
“I’m just pursuing all avenues. Lincoln wanted Caroline and was pissed she chose Hoyt. Could be he wanted some kind of payback.”
Wasn’t that a cheery thought?
“That doesn’t fit with the beach house fire,” Carson insisted.
“No. It’s likely we’re dealing with more than one perpetrator. Right now, we’re trying to get at the details that will help us evaluate which fires were likely set by the same one.” Thompson turned back to us. “Is there anyone else?”
I thought of the horrible scene from the day my father had confronted me at work. “Our father.” I outlined what had happened that day, again citing Hoyt’s defense. “But he’s steered clear since his blow up. I guess he’s disowned us.”
“Fine with me,” Rios muttered.
“Well, you’re just making enemies left and right,” Carson sneered. “Guess it runs in the family.”
Hoyt shot up again, vibrating with rage. “Get the fuck out.”
Carson didn’t even flinch. “I’ve got everything I need, anyway. I’ll be in touch.” The chief of police turned in the doorway. “And don’t leave town, Miss Carrera. You’re a person of interest in this case.”
“You son of a bitch?—”
This time, Rios and Drew caught Hoyt before he could fly at Carson.
The older man looked at Frank. “I’d think you’d be worried about the company he’s keeping. Sure seems to be having a bad influence on him.”
Thompson sighed. “Carson, get out of here and stop antagonizing my witnesses.”
“Just remember which of us is in control of this investigation.”
Everyone in the room held their collective breath as he strode out of the house and thumped down the steps.
