“Your mother?”
“She never got it back.”
“Even after Gooney Bud was incarcerated?”
“She and Daddy didn’t press too hard to get it back because of what had happened with it.”
“You mean, it’s still floating around somewhere?”
“I don’t know what happened to it.”
The Minton ranch was a beehive of activity. Cleanup crews were sorting through debris and hauling it away. Fire inspectors were picking through the charred lumber and insulation, searching for clues into the origin of the fire.
Around the house, a sandblasting crew was erasing the apocalyptic messages spray-painted on the stone walls. The window openings were being measured for replacement glass.
Reede was in the thick of it, serving in several capacities at once. He was unshaven and unclean; he looked like he’d personally sifted through soot and ash searching for clues. His shirttail was out and unbuttoned; the sleeves had been rolled up. He was hatless, but was wearing leather work gloves.
He spotted Alex as she alighted from her car, but before he could speak, he was summoned by a fire inspector. “You might want to take a look at this, Sheriff.”
Reede made an about-face and walked toward barn number two. Alex followed him. “A rock? What the hell does a rock have to do with the fire?” Reede was asking when she approached.
The fireman scratched his head through his Houston Astros baseball cap. “Looks to me like the fire was an accident. What I mean is, whoever done all this was using something like a slingshot to knock out the windows and such.”
“Like David going up against Goliath,” Alex murmured. Reede’s lips narrowed as he nodded in agreement.
The fireman said, “My guess is that this-here rock went flying, landed in one of the vents on the roof of the stable, and shorted out some of the wiring. That’s what caused your fire.”
“You don’t think it was deliberately set?”
The investigator frowned. “Naw, I can’t rightly say it looks that way. If I was gonna start a fire, I’d’ve pitched a Molotov cocktail or shot a flaming arrow.” His frown reversed itself into a silly grin. “I wouldn’t’ve throwed no rock.”
Reede bounced the heavy rock in his palm. “Thanks.” After the fireman ambled away, Reede said to Alex. “So much for holding Plummet on an arson charge.”
Because the day was unseasonably warm, Reede smelled salty and sweaty, but it wasn’t an offensive odor. In fact, she liked it. His dense chest hair fanned out over the upper part of his torso and funneled to a narrow line that disappeared into his belt. Up close she could see that perspiration had made it damp and curly. It whorled over the muscles and around his nipples, which the cooling breeze had drawn erect.
Noticing that made her warm inside. She raised her eyes to his face. A bead of sweat trickled from beneath his loose, windblown hair and ran into his eyebrow. She curbed the temptation to catch it on her fingertip. His day-old beard went well with the grime and sweat on his face.
It was an effort for her to keep her mind on business. “Have you arrested Plummet?”
“We tried,” he said. “He’s vanished.”
“His family?”
“They’re all at home, looking guilty as hell, but playing dumb about the preacher’s whereabouts. I’m not worried about it. He won’t go far. We’ll run down the roster of his congregation. Somebody’s hiding him. He’ll surface sooner or later.”
“When he does, I’d like to be there when you question him.”
He tossed the rock to the ground. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to have tea with Sarah Jo.” In response to his incredulous expression, she said, “Her idea, not mine.”
“Well, have fun,” he said sardonically. He turned his back on her and sauntered toward the barn.
Angus was standing on the porch of the house, feet widespread, overseeing the activity. As she approached, she tried not to let her apprehension show. She wasn’t certain how she would be received.
“You’re right on time,” he said.
So, he knew she was expected. “Hello, Angus.”