“I came home, ate a ham sandwich while I watched a baseball game, then went to bed.”
“Did you talk to anyone after you got home? A neighbor, someone on the phone? Anyone who can verify you were here?”
“No and no. This is getting annoying, Chief. Why the questions?”
“Were you anywhere near Sheriff Morgan’s apartment tonight?”
“No, I was not. What’s the bitch accusing me of?”
“Careful, Mason.” The man was either innocent or a skilled liar. “Someone broke into her apartment tonight and set it on fire.”
Mason’s eyes slitted. “And she’s accusing me?”
“Actually, she doesn’t want to believe you’d do something like that. The thing is, you’re the only person who’s made threats against her.”
“I think it’s time for you to go, Chief.” Mason walked to the door and opened it. “You want to talk to me again, it will be through my lawyer.”
“Noted.” Tristan walked out, no gut feeling on Mason’s innocence one way or the other. He hadn’t shown any surprise at hearing someone had set her apartment on fire, but he hadn’t acted guilty either.
He was halfway back to his house when Parker called. “Hey, you still at Skye’s?” Tristan asked.
“Yeah. We found a camera that caught our man, but it’s not going to be much help other than knowing the time and estimating his height and weight. He wore black pants and a black hoodie. Kept his face down. Between his doing that and the dark, I don’t think we’ll be able to identify him.”
“You’re sure it was a male?”
“Pretty sure. The person is big, larger than the average woman.”
“Well, that’s a start. Could it be Mason, or can we rule him out?”
“It could be just about anybody, Mason included. I’m forwarding a copy to you. If we can estimate his height and weight, that could rule Mason out if he doesn’t match.”
“Okay. I just left his house.” He recapped their conversation. “Unfortunately, I don’t have feelings one way or the other.”
“Well, we’re finishing up here. I’ll come back in the morning and look around in the daylight, but I don’t expect to find anything. After that, the case is yours.”
“Does it look like anything is salvageable?”
“Other than pots, pans, and dishes, not really. It’s all either burnt, damaged by smoke and water, or cut up.”
“I hate hearing that.”
“Agree. See you at breakfast.”
When he entered his bedroom, it was to find Skye asleep in his bed, her arms wrapped around Fuzz. Fuzz wasn’t allowed on the bed, but this was one time Tristan would give him a pass.
Her beautiful hair was spread out over the pillow, one leg from the knee down was uncovered, and as he stood there, mesmerized by the sight of her in his bed, longing filled his heart. He wanted her in his bed tonight, tomorrow, years from now.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You want a pickle, Miss Skylar?”
“Um...” Sky eyed her omelet, wondering how it would taste with a pickle. Not so good.
“You know we don’t eat pickles for breakfast,” Tristan said, his amused gaze meeting hers over Everly’s head. “And remember, we use our quiet voices when we’re inside.”
“I forgot,” Everly whispered. “But pickles would really make my eggs gooder.”
Parker laughed. “Gooder, huh?”