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“I don’t smoke.”
The marshal dropped the pack on the table and picked up his pen again. “Then why’d you have two lighters at school?”
Oh.
Gabriel scowled.
“And,” said the marshal, “I understand there are a lot more at your house. Want to tell me about that?”
Gabriel froze. “At my house?”
“Officers are executing a search warrant right now.”
At least it answered the question about whether Michael knew what was going on.
Thank god Hunter had the fireman’s coat and helmet.
“I didn’t start those fires,” he said again.
“Is someone else in on it?”
A new note had entered the marshal’s voice. Did they know about Hunter? Gabriel was wary after getting trapped by the lighter question.
He looked at the table, running his finger along the plastic stripping on the edge. “I don’t know anything about it.” His voice was nonchalant, but he felt in danger of choking on his heartbeat.
“You sure?”
Gabriel looked up, meeting the marshal’s gaze evenly. “Pretty sure.”
“Let me explain something.” Marshal Faulkner dropped the pen on his folder and leaned forward. His voice gained an edge.
“You can jerk me around all night, but you’re not doing yourself any favors. One count of first-degree arson carries a penalty of thirty years. That’s one. We’ve got at least four. No matter what you tell me, we’ve got enough to keep you in the county detention center for a while.”
Gabriel swallowed. His hands were sweating again. “I didn’t start those fires.”
“You know about the one on Linden Park Lane?”
The first one. Alan Hulster’s house. The piercing fire alarms, the dead cat. The little girl. The anguished scream from the front lawn, the relieved, sobbing mother.
He gave half a shrug, feeling sweat under the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know anything about it.”
“Really?” Marshal Faulkner sat back. “You don’t think if we asked Marybeth Hulster to come in here, she might not recognize you?” He paused. “She said she hugged the ‘fireman’ who saved her little girl.”
Gabriel froze.
It had been dark. Soot had blackened his face.
But she’d stared straight into his eyes when she’d thanked him.
Would she recognize him? He had no idea.
He’d saved her child. Yes. She would recognize him.
Marshal Faulkner had that pen in his hand again. “I think maybe you know a little something.”
Gabriel didn’t say anything.
A pause, a glance in the folder. “Alan Hulster says you had an altercation in class that day.”
