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“Frequently arsonists will come back to see the results of their actions.”
Well, that was a chilling thought. The idea that the person who’d tried to kill me could be nearby, watching us all. I looked over the gathered crowd myself. Chet Banks was at the edge of the perimeter, staring at the damage. His eyes fell to me, and his expression shifted to an angry glare, as if I’d been the one to set the fire. Or maybe like he was sorry I’d made it out?
I stepped closer to Hoyt. Troy Lincoln was there, too. I knew he worked nearby. It was why he’d frequented the tavern so often. His office was only a couple of streets over. I couldn’t read his face, and I wondered what he was thinking.
There were tourists there, too. I saw a couple of teenaged boys I recognized as summer people. They’d become regulars around town over the past couple of months. Seemed like I remembered something about how their parents were professors or something and had booked one of the rentals for the entire summer. A frenetic energy fairly crackled around them as they stared at the damage. Did that mean something? Or was it just that this was the most exciting thing to happen on this usually quiet island since their arrival?
“He found something,” Hoyt murmured.
I turned in time to see the arson investigator rise from where he’d crouched in the wreckage, putting something into a container.
“Whatcha got?” Chief Thompson asked.
The investigator stepped free of the debris and walked over. “Maybe the thing the perp used to start the fire. This look familiar to any of you?”
He held out the heavy-duty plastic evidence bag. Inside was a silver square, warped from the heat. I realized after a moment it was a lighter. There were marks on the surface.
Hoyt spotted those, too. “Can I see that, sir?”
The investigator handed him the bag. We both peered closer, trying to make sense of the lines. They’d blurred some, but they were still mostly legible. It was a set of engraved initials.
DF.
My heart kicked up in realization. “David Foley. The drunk guy who got aggressive with me the night of the fire. The one I kicked out. He’d been smoking earlier. I didn’t see his lighter specifically, but what are the chances that another lighter with his initials would be here in the rubble?”
Jaw set, Thompson pulled out his cell. “We’ll have him brought in. We definitely have some questions.”
23
Hoyt
I stared at David Foley through the one-way mirror, taking in the khaki shorts, pink polo shirt, and well-worn Sperrys. His blond hair was tousled in a way that looked too deliberate. This guy belonged on a country club golf course somewhere or schmoozing over corporate lunches. Entitlement practically oozed out of every pore. I had a hard time imagining him getting his hands dirty. But looks could be deceiving.
Had this pretentious fucker been the one to circle back the other night to lock Caroline in that closet because she’d dared to tell him no? Had he attacked Jasper, then used that lighter to start the fire and just left her to die?
Chief Thompson closed a hand over my shoulder. “Keep it together, son. By rights, you shouldn’t be here after that blow up with Carson yesterday.”
That was true enough. I was surprised the chief had agreed to bring me when I’d asked to tag along for the interrogation. Caroline had stuck around with Ed and Bree to help coordinate clean up, as the arson investigator had said they could get back in that afternoon. I knew Ford would keep an eye on her, and it seemed like we might have our perp right here.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and Chief Carson strode inside. He dragged out the only other chair in the room across from Foley at the rickety table and sat.
“Appreciate you coming in, Mr. Foley.”
“Am I being charged with something?”
Oh, hell. Was he about to lawyer up and stonewall us?
“No. We’re just asking some questions, trying to get a better picture of what happened the night of the fire at the OBX Brewhouse. You were one of the last folks to leave, so we wanted to find out if you remembered anything.”
Foley’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “I don’t remember much. I’d been drinking pretty heavily that night before I left to walk back to my rental.”
Carson nodded. “Why were you drinking that night?”
“I’d had a fight with my girlfriend. But we’ve sorted everything out now. It’s fine.”
The police chief made a show of checking the notes he’d brought with him. “Says here there were a few people there who reported you got a little aggressive before you left the bar. That you didn’t appreciate being cut off.”
Given how little Carson thought of Caroline, I was actually surprised he’d even asked.
