Page 102 of Hell Hath No Fury

“This isn’t payback,” the trooper said, his voice noticeably tight. “We’ve had a development I thought would interest you.”

Matthias was aware of Emma turning to look at him. “What kind of development?” he asked.

“There was a fire overnight at the construction site.”

Matthias needed a moment to process the news. “The Powell farm construction site?” He thought, but didn’t ask,The one he’d been sneaking around only hours ago?

“Yep. That one.” Fergusson’s voice grew muffled as if he had put a hand over the phone’s speaker and was talking to someone else. Then the line cleared. “The house where you pulled the plywood from the window? Torched.”

Matthias didn’t respond, wondering if Fergusson was about to accuse him of arson.

“That’s not all. There was a body inside.”

Dammit.Fergusson wasn’t merely going to accuse him of arson. He was going to accuse him of murder. “Whose body?”

“Patrick Winslow.”

Matthias gripped the steering wheel tighter and could feel Emma’s eyes on him.

“I don’t suppose you went to see him after you left the site last night? No, make that earlier this morning.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I figured, but you know how it is. I had to ask.”

“Before you ask anything more, I can account for my time all night long. Most of it was spent in Ohio. Emma and Nell were in a collision on their way home from Akron. Nell’s in the East Liverpool Hospital with a broken leg. Emma’s with me. And if you plan to accuse Eric Baker, Emma was driving his car, so he’s stuck at his house without transportation. Unless you’re going to suggest he used an Uber to go commit murder and arson.”

Emma put a hand on his arm, but he kept his gaze on the road.

“Relax, Honeywell,” Fergusson said. “I’m only calling you as a courtesy. I know you wanted to question Winslow. Hell, I had a lot more questions for him myself. Get in touch with me later. I’d like to compare notes. I might have the fire marshal’s preliminary report by then, too.”

While the trooper sounded sincere, Matthias knew him too well. Courtesy? No way. “Thanks for the call.” Matthias didn’t even attempt to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He disconnected and stuffed the phone in his pocket.

“What on earth is going on?” Emma asked. “They found another body at the Powell farm?”

“Yeah. Patrick Winslow was found dead inside one of the houses, which had been burned down.”

“Good lord,” she breathed. “Is Fergusson accusing us?”

“Not yet. Not officially. I think his call was a fishing expedition.”

She sunk back into the seat and gave a short laugh. “At least we all have our phones on us. They can track the GPS.”

He grunted.

She shot another look at him. “What? You don’t sound convinced.”

He exhaled and reminded her about his midnight recon mission to the site. “The house I technically broke into is the one that burned.”

“But the cops saw you drive away after they busted you, right?”

Matthias thought back a few hours. Yes, they’d witnessed him walk off the site. He’d gone back to his Jeep… but then he’d sat there, talking to Cassie on the phone.

He’d watched the troopers leave, not the other way around, and their headlights had fallen on him as they’d passed.

“Matthias?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted. “But, as you pointed out, I had my phone on me, and I didn’t go back to the property. I drove straight to our hotel and stayed there until you called.”