The Beekeeper's Daughter. Janice Carter
He took another drag on the cigarette. A sprinkle of embers from its tip flew into the air with the evening breeze.
Will had a sudden vision of calling back the trucks, this time to put out a blaze started by the captain. “No pattern to the victims then?”
“None we can see. Except all of the barns and sheds have been used for storage or whatever. No animals.”
Interesting. The perp has a heart? “When did the fires begin?”
Andrews shrugged. “About three months ago. It took a while for us to realize we had a serial arsonist at work.”
“Serial arsonist? That doesn’t sound like teenagers.”
“Could be, though. You know—one with serious problems.” Andrews finished off the cigarette and carefully ground the butt into the earth with the heel of his boot. “You ever encountered a serial arsonist?’
“Can’t say I have. The only arsonists I’ve met were hired.”
“I thought of that, too, along with the possible insurance fraud. But the one thing every victim had in common was a different insurance company. Or, like poor Warren here, no insurance at all.”
“Poor guy,” Will muttered.
“No kidding. Anyway, knowing folks in the valley, there’ll be a barn-raising organized before the end of summer. Okay, that’s it for me,” said Andrews with a loud sigh. “I’m beat. You wanna follow me? There’s a pretty decent motel about five miles this side of Essex.”
“Sounds good,” Will said.
“Motel’s got a sports bar attached.”
“Better still.” He turned to open the van door, but caught Andrews’s appraising stare.
“Too bad you’re not planning on hanging around a bit. I could use some big-city expertise on this.”
This meaning the fires, Will assumed. How could he let the captain know fighting fires was the last thing he wanted to do? Did the man think the sheen of sweat on Will’s face had been put there by the fire’s heat?
Something in Will’s face must have been answer enough for Andrews. “Oh well, can’t blame a guy for trying.” He signaled to one of his men, who began to climb behind the wheel of the fire engine. “Give us a sec to turn the truck around and we’ll lead you right to Traveler’s Way Motel.”
Will could just as easily have found the motel himself, but the gesture was meant to be hospitable. He got into the van and watched the engine reverse until its nose was aimed toward the main road. As he followed, Will glanced in his rearview mirror. Warren Lewis and his wife were still standing arm in arm, staring at the black, crumbled beams and timbers that had once been their barn.
ANNIE’S RELIEF was palpable. Jack had just been wheeled out of surgery and everything had gone well.
“I know he’ll be asking me when you’re coming to visit,” Shirley said on the other end of the line. “Have you decided yet?”
“Soon,” Annie said. “I called Auntie Isobel after you left yesterday and I’m going to stay with her. Did the doctor mention how long Dad might be in the hospital?”
“There’s a rehabilitation center nearby that will have a bed for him in a couple of days. The doctor said maybe a few days there to get started on a program and then he’d be able to go home.” Shirley’s sigh resonated along the phone line.
“Are you worried if he comes home too soon, he’ll want to get right back to work?”
“Of course. You know how stubborn your father can be, Annie.”
Tell me about it. “I thought you planned to stay on a bit longer in Charlotte—to visit your cousins.”
“That was the plan but last night Jack was hinting quite strongly that he wanted to get back to Garden Valley as soon as possible.” Another sigh.
“He may not feel the same once he tries to get up on his feet. I’m sure you can persuade him to stay a few days after the rehab center.”
“I hope so. Anyway, dear, can I give him some kind of timeline?”
Annie hadn’t thought that far ahead. She had to call Danny McLean to let him know she’d be away and to discuss the work he’d be doing in her absence. “I’m not sure. I’ll call you later tonight or tomorrow morning to let you know. Give Dad a kiss for me, okay?”
After hanging up, Annie sat staring at the phone. Since receiving the letter yesterday, going to Charlotte had suddenly taken on a whole other meaning. Auntie Isobel would be expecting her to have made a decision about contacting the adoption agency while she was there. Her father likely wanted her to come as soon as possible, bringing mail as well as news about the business and Garden Valley. The walls were closing in.
She pushed her chair back and took her empty coffee cup to the sink. The day promised to be bright and sunny, but she couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for it. She’d impulsively given herself a deadline of the next morning at the latest and saw no way out of it. Going to Charlotte also meant having to make a decision about her daughter.
If she started down that path this early, she’d never get through the day. There was shopping to do in town and she wanted to check on the new hive she’d set up in the Vanderhoff orchard yesterday.
Was it only yesterday that the firefighter from New Jersey had arrived on her doorstep? She smiled to herself. Will Jennings had flashed across her mind enough last night to make her want answers to several questions.
Such as, what was her attraction to a quiet, almost solemn man with a scarred face and an obviously traumatic past? Was her life so empty that she was compelled to fill it with some crush on a complete stranger? Annie grimaced. She had no answer for the first question but the second—well, how much longer could she delude herself about the so-called life she’d had since returning to Garden Valley?
In the beginning, the plan had been to stay long enough for her father to find a replacement worker for Pete, the hired hand who’d retired. Annie had been grateful for the excuse. It sounded a whole lot better than admitting to friends and colleagues in New York that her fiancé had jilted her. In fact, she’d quickly come up with the line that her wedding to Jim had to be postponed because of family reasons. And Annie knew the very best place to recuperate from the pain of the breakup was Garden Valley.
What she hadn’t realized until she’d come home, was how badly her father needed help. She still couldn’t believe how quickly a few weeks had rolled into a year. Her life in New York—teaching, her friends and even Jim—was now a distant memory.
Inexplicably, and against all reason, she hoped Will Jennings had stayed. Seeing him one more time just might guarantee a better day.
CHAPTER FIVE
ANNIE WAS ABOUT TO climb back into the cab of the pickup when Marge Vanderhoff’s voice halted her midstep.
“Heard that friend of yours helped save Warren Lewis’s farm last night.” At the farmhouse back door, Marge loomed on the other side of the screen mesh.
“Huh?” Annie asked, her eyebrows raised.
“That fella who came with you yesterday to get the bees.”
She was talking about Will? “What happened?”
Marge stepped out onto the small porch. “Fern Lewis said the fella—what was his name again?”
“Will Jennings.”
“Seems he told Captain Andrews that he’d been visiting the apiary, so when I heard that, I put two and two together and figured it must’ve been him they were talking about. Anyhow,” Marge went on, “this Will Jennings was driving by the Lewis place when he noticed smoke coming from the barn.”
“Was anyone hurt?”