Heart's Desire

Chapter 22 - Monty

As the patrol car parks alongside Jake's ranger truck, Dane gets to his feet. Freya, Jake, and I rise as well, while Martin, Julian, Kit, and Sasha remain at the table and reassure the kids.

"What's this about, then?" I murmur to Dane, as two officers emerge from the vehicle and walk towards us, picking their way through the tall grass. There's a perfectly good path a few yards to their right, but it seems they prefer the direct route.

"Dunno," Dane mutters, "but it must be important. That's Sheriff Page herself."

As the officers draw near, I see one is a young man, mid-twenties, probably, with his hair shaved in a military style and a swagger that speaks more of bluster and bravado than genuine experience. The other is a woman in her late forties or early fifties, with iron-gray hair and sharp blue eyes in a sun-weathered face. Dressed in a red flannel shirt, sheriff's jacket, jeans, and ankle-high work boots, she carries herself with a natural authority that makes her seem larger than she is.

"Mr. Hunter, Ms. Hunter," she calls once she's close enough not to have to shout, and directs her attention to Freya and Dane. She has a low, scratchy, smoker's voice, the masculine tones of which probably come in handy when giving orders to hotheaded assholes like her young deputy. "And another Hunter, I presume," she adds, looking towards me.

Dane nods. "My brother, Monty."

"Jackie Page," the sheriff says, introducing herself. "And this is Deputy Lawson. We apologize for dropping by so late. Looks like we've interrupted your meal."

"What can we do for you, Sheriff?" Dane asks, cutting to the chase. He hates unnecessary pleasantries.

Page stands with her feet slightly apart but keeps her arms uncrossed, thumbs hooked in her belt, authoritative but nonthreatening. "Well, I got good news, and I got bad news, Mr. Hunter. Some of which needs to be delivered in person."

A cold feeling clutches at my stomach, like icy fingers gripping my guts, and I brace myself for a devastating blow.

"Good news is the chemical analysis you requested came back from the lab already," the sheriff continues. "Seems you got friends in high places, Hunter."

"The right places, maybe," Dane says, straightening with interest. "What did they find?"

"Well, that's where the bad news comes in. I don't understand all the technical, chemical mumbo-jumbo, but the bottom line is you were right, and I was wrong. That fire was no accident."

"Accelerants?" Freya asks.

"Yep—hydrocarbons, and lots of 'em."

"Hydrocarbons are present in most flammable liquids," Dane points out. "Did they pinpoint any specific signatures?"

"Not brand names or anything, but they did provide a list of the products containing these compounds. Hence the house call."

"I'm not sure I follow," Dane says, shifting his stance and folding his arms.

The sheriff rubs the back of her neck, her expression somewhere between stubborn and apologetic. "Look, Hunter... I respect you as a fellow officer, and it's thanks to you and your friend at that chem lab we even know all this, but... Well, this case just escalated from tragic accident to felony arson—possibly homicide."

She beckons to the young deputy, and he steps forward, pulling some folded papers from his back pocket and handing them to Dane. He opens them and scans the contents, then glances back up with raised brows.

"Search warrants? For Sasha and Martin's houses?"

"Money is always a prime motive, and family are always prime suspects in a case like this."