Firebreak: A Mystery (11 page)

“This is outrageous! You tell me my house has been burned but won’t give me any details. What a terrible thing to do to someone!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Let’s make it one o’clock at the police department. That should give you time to drive from Austin.”

Josie hung up and called Otto with the news that both the Nixes had been located and would be in town the next afternoon. Josie decided to talk with Slim Jim, hoping to piece together a clearer picture of the couple before meeting them the next day.

NINE

The Arroyo County Junior/Senior High School was located on the outskirts of Artemis. Dry level desert spread for miles on either side of the school complex, which also housed the elementary school. A paved road provided access to the flat-roofed elementary school, and then wound around a dusty patch of land that served as a soccer field, and ended in the parking lot of the newer junior/senior high school. Some students spent close to four hours per day on a school bus. An education in this part of the country was something a kid worked for, and Josie respected the people who made the decision to locate their families in a place that traded the luxury of “things” for the luxury of peace and space. If she ever had kids of her own, which was beginning to feel more remote by the day, they would attend this school.

Driving with the windows down, she heard booming bass drums and the rapid-fire rhythm of snare drums a mile away from the school complex. With no vegetation to hinder the sound, the drums carried along the hot night air and reverberated against the school buildings along the access road.

The marching band stretched in ragged rows across the parking lot, instruments up but silent, the band director yelling, “One, two, three, four,” through his megaphone as the kids moved like an amoeba down the hot pavement.

She parked her jeep alongside the parking lot and got out. With the evacuation order she was surprised to see a practice taking place, but for the kids in the county that were left, she figured the practice was a safe place to forget about the drama going on all around them.

Josie heard the drums but couldn’t see them. She followed the sound to the other side of the high school building, where she found four kids standing with the drums strapped over their backs, and another kid playing the bass drum. They were standing in the shade of the building but sweat dripped down their faces as they pounded their mallets in rhythm. Slim Jim stood in front of them, eyes closed, beating a drumstick against the side of the building. He was yelling a rhythm as they played. “Rata tata rat tat. Rata tata tata rata tat tat.” The kids noticed her round the corner, zeroed in on her police uniform, and lost their concentration, breaking the rhythm. Jim’s eyes flew open.

He looked first at the kids, and then behind him to find the source of the interruption. He recognized Josie and tried to reel in his anger, waving his hands in the air for the kids to stop playing. Their expressions were guarded, assessing their instructor’s possible trouble.

He faced the kids. “All right. Ten-minute water break. Be back here, instruments ready. Exactly ten minutes. Not eleven!
Ten!
” He watched them lift their drums up and over their sweaty heads and set them on the ground, already chatting, ecstatic at the few minutes of freedom, their instructor and his troubles forgotten. Josie smiled. Ten minutes was a lifetime at sixteen.

“Sorry to interrupt, Jim. I just need a few minutes.”

“What’d I do?”

Jim was tall and skinny, wearing long mesh basketball shorts and a tattered T-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

“Why so paranoid?” she asked, smiling at his resignation.

“Look. They told me, I clean up the language or I’m out. On my ass.” He said the last word quietly between clenched teeth. “You know what that’s like for a guy like me? If I didn’t like these knucklehead kids so much I’d tell the principal to ram a drumstick up her ying yang, and I’d go back to the bar where I belong.”

“I’m not here to cause you grief.”

“Ohhhh! Really?” He opened his mouth and eyes wide, his expression incredulous. “Don’t they teach you in cop school that all you have to do is show up somewhere and you cause a guy grief?”

She grinned and held a hand up in the air to stop him. “If the principal gives you grief, you tell me and I’ll talk to her. Agreed?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What can you tell me about Billy and Brenda?”

“I got ten minutes, not ten hours.”

“Give me the short version.”

“He’s a musician. She’s a wannabe. She couldn’t make it in Nashville on her own, so she’s using Billy to get there.”

“She’s a musician too?”

“Hell no!” Jim blew air out slowly and then drew more in through his nose as if he were conducting a deep-breathing exercise. Josie assumed he was trying to control his temper. Finally, he said, “Okay. Here’s Brenda’s deal. She comes from a long line of Nashville royalty. But here’s the kicker, she has no musical talent herself. Zip, zero, nada. Her daddy was a famous bluegrass fiddler. Ever heard of the Netham Sisters?”

Josie nodded.

“That’s Brenda’s sisters.”

“No kidding?”

“Kid you not. Better than that? Her own sisters kicked her out of the band. Brenda left home to make a name for herself as a solo singer and couldn’t do it.”

“You think she’s using Billy to make up for own failure in country music?”

“You said it. Billy, bless his dumbass self, is too stupid to believe it. And he’s been told. Multiple times. By yours truly.”

“I hear she’s negotiating a record deal. She can’t be all that bad, right? The band would benefit as well.”

He laughed. “You give her way too much credit. She’d sell us out in a heartbeat. Billy’s her concern. Not us. If it suits the record company that Billy’s band comes with him, then we’re gold. But if they want us gone?” He shrugged.

Josie saw the kids wandering back outside from the air-conditioned school, their ten minutes dwindling. Before she left she asked, “Can you imagine anyone wanting to cause trouble for either one of them?”

He looked taken aback at the question. Jim wasn’t the type of person to be at a loss for words, but he wrinkled his forehead. “Why would you ask me that? Come to think of it, why are you asking me any of this?”

“Do they have any enemies? Somebody who would want to end Billy’s career before it got started? Somebody who would want to frame Brenda to cause her grief?”

His eyebrows furrowed and his expression turned dark. “What’s this about?”

“There’s been some trouble. I can’t get into it at this point. I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough from Billy, but for now, I’m trying to understand who’s connected to the Nixes.”

The kids were quietly pulling their drum carriers back over their heads, obviously trying to catch the conversation. Jim motioned Josie away from them and Josie followed him into the parking lot. He turned to her, his expression earnest.

“Look. You know what it’s like out here. Two-hour drive to the closest Walmart? This is a great big pond with a lot of little fishes trying to get noticed. Everybody wants their big break. And finally, our band’s close. There’s some jealousy out there. If we make it to Nashville, that means somebody else doesn’t.”

“Who specifically is jealous?”

He turned from her in frustration. “Come on, man. Don’t go there.”

“It’s a fair question. I’m sure it’s no big secret.”

“The Calloway Boys. They talk smack. They’re a Tex-Mex band with a hotshot guitar player and a singer who thinks he’s God’s gift to the world. Problem is, nobody outside of the locals is interested in their
alternative
country.” Jim rolled his eyes and made a face to show he wasn’t impressed, whatever “
alternative
country” meant to him.

“So there’s some competition between the local bands?”

“I wouldn’t call it competition. Here’s what it is. They like to bash Billy and the Outlaws like we’re commercial and they’re some authentic piece of art.” He rolled his eyes again and looked back at the kids. Josie noticed the band director crossing the parking lot toward them, probably making sure Jim wasn’t in hot water with the police.

“Damn. I gotta go,” he said.

Josie chatted with the band director to assure him that Jim wasn’t in trouble and left the school. She had one more stop before going home for the night. Doug Free had left a message on her phone asking her to call or stop by before she went off duty.

Josie saw his truck parked in front of the fire department and pulled in behind it. She found him in the training room, sitting behind his desk with a fan blowing hot air directly on him. The police department wasn’t fancy, but at least it had air-conditioning. Doug looked up from his paperwork and smiled when he saw her.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“I’ve sure had better weeks.”

“You get any sleep yet?”

“A few hours. I’m about ready to check out for the night.” He stood and gestured toward a folding chair in front of his desk and they both sat. “Otto called and filled me in on the conversation he had with my spotter, Derek Lanman. The timing’s off.”

“That’s what we were afraid of.”

“I met with Otto today and made a copy of the records he took as evidence,” Doug said. “I combined that log with everything else I’ve got here. Assuming the victim’s watch was correct, and he died at seven thirty-eight, that fire was set intentionally.”

“Otto found another analog clock in the kitchen stopped at seven forty. I think we have our time of death.”

Doug raised a finger. “Department of Public Safety’s sending us a helicopter in the morning. We’ll fly out at seven. We’ll be doing a damage assessment, but first area we fly over is the Nixes’ house. I want to see the burn patterns. You game?”

“Absolutely. I appreciate the offer.”

“I’ll see you at the Marfa airport at six thirty tomorrow morning.”

*   *   *

It was after seven o’clock before Josie arrived home. A year ago Dillon would have had supper waiting for her; he would have been putting the final touches on some dish and pouring himself a glass of the perfect wine to pair with the meal. He would have been doing all of the things that she knew nothing about. Without him, her dinner consisted of ramen soup and a bagel, or takeout from the Hot Tamale, or a frozen dinner zapped in the microwave.

She parked her jeep and walked inside, where she fed Chester and then microwaved a bag of popcorn. Even after two months she missed Dillon: sharing her day with him, talking through a quirk in a case she was working on, hearing about his day at the office. She thought about her conversation with Dell, but she was still surprised Dillon had not returned her call about the fire, and she wondered if he’d received it. She was certain he’d be concerned about the town—at least about his friends and former neighbors.

Sitting at the kitchen table, she stared at her phone for a while before mustering the courage to call. He answered on the third ring.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I’m doing okay, how about you?”

“It’s been crazy. I thought you might want an update on the fire. I saw Arroyo County made the news on CNN, so I thought you might be worried.”

“Yeah, I’ve been following it on the news. Sorry I didn’t get back with you.” His tone of voice was friendly, but detached.

“The fire came through the mudflats. That area got hit hard.”

“How about Smokey and Vie?” he asked.

“They lost the house.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Josie talked a little about the Billy Nix case, but when Dillon wasn’t responding she stopped and changed the subject. “Any plans yet on your business?” Her voice felt cheery and false and she wished she hadn’t called.

“Not yet. I’m looking at options.”

“Okay, well, I’ll let you go. I just thought you might want an update.”

“Josie, it’s not that I don’t care. I’m sure this seems callous to you, like I’ve given up on everyone.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

“Please, hear me out. I have nightmares about what happened. I still love you on some level, and I always will, but I can’t maintain a relationship with you anymore. It’s too hard right now.”

She tried to focus on what he was saying, but the only words that stuck were
on some level
.

“Dillon, you know that what I want more than anything is for you to be happy and to get your life back again. If it’s too hard to talk to me right now, then I will respect that. You focus on getting better, and someday down the road if you want to talk, you give me a call.”

They ended the conversation and Josie stared at her phone. Was this just part of the healing process? she wondered. There was no rulebook. No one had said, This is how long a person should suffer after a major trauma. These are the steps you should take to help bring that person around: tough love, words of encouragement, silence. What was the right response? She had no idea. The counselor had wanted her to talk about her own feelings, but the experience had felt false, and she’d left feeling worse.

Josie walked back into the bedroom, where she took off her uniform and hung it in the closet. She needed out. She grabbed a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt from her dresser drawer, slipped them on along with a pair of flip-flops, and walked out the back door.

*   *   *

Josie and Chester walked behind the house and up the lane to Dell’s. He was the person she went to for advice when the rest of the world made no sense. Josie’s father had been killed in a line-of-duty accident when she was eight, and her mother had stopped being a parent at that point. After an unsuccessful stint at college, Josie had moved to Texas from Indiana, and she’d never looked back. She had virtually no contact with her family. Instead, she had Dell.

Chester loped up from behind and shoved his muzzle up into her hand as she walked, forcing her to pat his head. Josie stopped and kneeled in the dirt to rub his velvet ears and bury her head in his neck. He was an affectionate dog who seemed aware when things were out of sorts in Josie’s life.