When I was sure the fire was out, I grabbed the cat and tore out of the cabin, searching around wildly. Orange spots danced in my vision in the dark night air, and I was grateful there was close to a full moon so I at least had a chance of spotting my arsonist.
There.
I saw a figure bolting across one of the pastures, straight toward the corner of the ranch that used to house my parents’ house. While I may not have had my shoes on, I knew someone who did.
It took me all of three seconds to deposit Fire Kitten into an empty barn stall and grab Gulliver out of his stall before slipping a bridle over his sleepy face. I explained the situation to him in a fevered hush, knowing he couldn’t understand a word I was saying. Maybe it was me just letting my adrenalin escape, but I couldn’t seem to keep my mouth shut.
As I gathered a hank of his mane to help me mount up, I noticed a porch light come on in the main house and Grandpa step out on the front door.
“Cabin bathroom was on fire,” I yelled. “Double-check it’s out.”
I didn’t wait for his response, just tore out of there on Gulliver’s bare back riding hell for leather toward my old house.
Gulliver had been reading my cues for years and had ridden between the barn and my parents’ house a million times over the years. The strength of his huge body under my thighs was familiar and energizing and my mind raced with what I was going to say to the culprit when I caught him.
Sure enough, the kid ran out of steam about fifty yards shy of the burn site. I overtook him easily and turned Gulliver around to face the heaving, panting teen. His hands were braced on his knees, but when he looked up at me through Bieber bangs, his eyes were defiant.
“You can’t prove it was me,” he spat.
“Like hell I can’t. Sit your ass down and take a breath. We’re going to have a talk.”
I hopped off the horse and winced as my bare feet landed on some gravel in the dirt. The only thing I had on was a pair of loose cotton sleep shorts, and for once I was glad for hot Texas summer nights.
Hal stood there glaring at me as if his scrawny thirteen-year-old self was any match for my twenty-eight-year-old firefighter’s build.
“I said sit,” I commanded, pulling on all my years listening to commanding officers barking out orders to put weight behind my words.
His ass hit the dirt before I could take a breath. I squatted down a few feet away from him and locked eyes with him.
“Tell me what the hell you think you’re doing,” I said.
“Nothing. I’m not doing anything,” he said.
Lie.
I blew out a breath and sat all the way down, crossing my legs and leaning back on my hands. “Well, if you won’t tell me, I guess you’ll have to tell Chief Paige and your dad.”
“He’s not my dad,” the kid mumbled.
“All right, then how about your mom? What would she say about her son being a three-time arsonist? Or maybe it’s more than three?”
Hal’s nostrils flared and I realized he looked more like Beth than I’d originally thought. I remembered hearing that his dad had died shortly after Beth had gotten pregnant with Cody, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever known how. It was clear from his reaction, I’d hit a sensitive spot.
“You’re going to tell the chief anyway, so what the hell’s it matter?” he said.
“Who says? The way I see it, this conversation stays between the two of us.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re going to go blab about it to clear your name. I’m not an idiot.”
“Hal, when I saw you teaching those kids at the lakeside park about toilet-roll fire starters the other night, I knew you were most likely the one who’d done all this. But I didn’t say a word. Not to Walker, not to the chief, or the investigator, and not to your parents. And do you want to know why?”
He huffed, but I could see the curiosity in his eyes.
“Because I love your uncle too much to let you get in trouble with the law. Right or wrong, I’m not going to be the cause of his suffering. And if that means I wind up being pegged for these crimes, then so be it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Listen, all I ask in return are two things. The first is that you never, and I mean never even think about setting fire to anything again. If I so much as hear about you offering someone a match for a birthday candle, I’m blowing the whistle. Do you understand?”
His eyes narrowed as if he still didn’t trust me. “What’s the other thing?”