She placed her hands over his. “I’m so grateful you did. You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.” She got to her feet. “If you go, then I’m going with you.” There was no alternative, she decided, no other choice. “Wherever you go, that’s where I want to be.”
“No.” The word was chilling in its intensity.
“Anson, you’ve got to listen to me. This is all because of what happened at The Lighthouse, isn’t it?”
He refused to answer, refused to look at her.
“My dad believes you. I believe you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
He seemed to think about it, then shook his head. “Don’t you see? This is how it is—everything I touch turns to dust. I thought it’d be different with you, but it’s not. I’m getting out of here before I screw up your life, too.” He scrambled to his feet and started for the window.
“But you don’t know where you’re going,” she said in a hoarse whisper. Then she remembered something else. “You can’t leave,” she told him. “You’ll be breaking the terms of your plea bargain. You have to stay in school, remember?”
“I was supposed to have a job, too.”
“Yes, but—”
Anson shook his head again. “It’s too late to worry about that. If they find me now, I’ll probably get jail time. I’m out of here.”
A dozen questions rose at his response. She didn’t ask a single one because she was afraid of the answers. “What will you do for money?”
He turned back and gave a harsh laugh.
“Anson?” She’d never heard him sound like that before, and it frightened her. Her stomach knotted as she realized there was a reason Anson had chosen to leave Cedar Cove tonight. “What have you done?” she whispered.
“It’s better if you don’t know.” His eyes softened as he looked at her one last time. “Goodbye,” he whispered, stretching out his hand to touch her face.
“No!” She hurried to the window, but he was too fast. He moved with an agility that belied his size. “How will I know where to reach you?” she called out as he walked across the grass.
Anson didn’t answer. His hands were buried deep inside his pockets, his shoulders bent. She stayed where she was until she lost sight of him, and in her heart she knew she’d never see him again. Eventually the tears came, flooding her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. She closed the window and crawled back into bed.
Allison didn’t fall asleep for hours. Her pillow was damp with tears when she woke Saturday morning, again to the sound of knocking—but this time it was someone pounding at her bedroom door.
“Allison,” her mother said, opening the door. “It’s after ten.”
She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She often slept in on the weekends.
“There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”
Her first thought was that it might be Anson, but she realized that it wouldn’t be.
“Who?”
“It’s Sheriff Davis.” Her mother’s expression was serious, and Allison’s stomach immediately tensed.
“Why does he want to see me?” Even though she asked, she knew the answer. This had to do with Anson.
“Your father’s talking to the sheriff now. I suggest you get dressed right away and join us.”
Allison nodded and although she appeared outwardly calm, her heart clamored hard. This was what she’d feared most—that Anson would get into trouble again.
By the time she’d put on jeans and a sweatshirt and brushed her hair, Allison was shaking. Whatever Anson had done, if he was caught, it would mean the fire in the park would now be part of his permanent record. It also meant her father would never allow her to see him again.
The sheriff set down his coffee mug when Allison entered the kitchen. He sat at the table with both her parents.
“This is our daughter, Allison,” her father said, motioning that she should sit down. “Allison,” he said, looking straight at her. “Sheriff Davis has some questions for you. It’s important that you answer him honestly and directly. Do you understand?”
She lowered her head and whispered, “I will.”
“Hello, Allison,” Sheriff Davis said pleasantly. “I hear you’re friends with Anson Butler.”
She nodded.
“I’m wondering when you last saw him,” the sheriff said next.
The minute Anson left, she knew he’d done something he shouldn’t have. He’d as much as said so. His chilling laugh echoed in her mind.
Her father leaned toward her. “Please tell Sheriff Davis the truth.”
“Last night,” she whispered, knowing her parents would be outraged that she’d let him into her bedroom in the middle of the night.
“When?”
“About two this morning.”
“You snuck out of the house?” This outburst was from her mother, who was clearly upset.
Allison shook her head. “No. Anson came to me.”
“At the house?” her father clarified without apparent censure. But his eyes let her know he wasn’t pleased, although he kept his voice even.
Allison sighed. “He tapped on my window and woke me up. He—he came to say goodbye.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“No. He said he didn’t know.”
“Do you have any idea where he is now?”
She shook her head a second time.
“You’re sure he ran away, though?” her father said, pressuring her for more information.
“He hasn’t been at home or at school. I asked around and no one’s seen him.”
“Where’s he been keeping himself?” This came from the sheriff.
“I don’t know.” Allison wished she did. All week she’d wondered and waited to hear from him. The thought of Anson living on the streets made her want to weep all over again. His mother wasn’t any help; she didn’t even seem to care.
“Do you know whether he had any money?” the sheriff asked.
She hesitated, but for only a second. “He didn’t say.”
Sheriff Davis exchanged a look with her father.
“What did he do?” Allison had to find out.
“At this point we don’t know that Anson did anything,” Sheriff Davis said, his words measured and flat. “He’s what we consider a person of interest.”
“Interest in what?”
Again her father and the sheriff exchanged that ambiguous glance.
“About one this morning, The Lighthouse restaurant burned to the ground.”
“Is it arson?” she cried.
“We don’t know for sure,” the sheriff said, “but the indication from the fire chief is that the fire appears to have been purposely set.”
Allison gasped. “Anson would never do that!”
“He burned down the shed in the park,” her father reminded her. He placed his hand on her shoulder as if to lend her strength.
“I don’t care,” she said, shrugging off his comfort and leaping to her feet. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“Seth Gunderson laid him off.”
“Mr. Gunderson thought Anson had taken some money from his office, but he didn’t.”
“Anson was angry.”
“You would be, too,” Allison shouted, “if you were unjustly accused of—something.” Her voice broke. She couldn’t believe The Lighthouse was gone. It’d become a Cedar Cove landmark.
“As I mentioned, we’re not certain that the fire was arson,” Sheriff Davis said in an obvious attempt to calm her.
“But you’re already trying to frame Anson!”
“Allison.” Her mother spoke her name softly. “No one’s going to frame him for anything.”
“All I want to do right now is talk to Anson,” the sheriff assured her.
Allison didn’t believe him. She was convinced the sheriff and her parents considered him guilty. She recognized that he must have done something, but he hadn’t burned down The Lighthouse. Despite any evidence or suspicion to the contrary, she knew one thing: Anson was innocent.
Justine Gunderson stared at what had once been their restaurant, her arms tight around her son to ward off the cold wind gusting from the cove. Leif was peacefully asleep, thumb in his mouth. Seth stood a few feet apart from her, answering the fire chief’s questions. The stench of fire invaded her nostrils, clung to her clothes and hair. Smoke wafted up from the ashes of what had once been their dream—their restaurant, their investment and sole source of income. Even now, staring at the charred remains, it was hard to believe The Lighthouse was no more. All that survived of the structure was a blackened skeleton and a pile of rubble. With a jolt she recognized the twisted metal frame of a photograph—the picture Jon Bowman had given them when they opened the restaurant.
After a few minutes, Seth returned to her side and took Leif from her arms. Their son was still asleep so he’d be spared seeing this. Justine felt numb with shock. She couldn’t cry, could barely think.
“It was arson,” Seth whispered.
This was as unbelievable as the fire itself. “Who…who would do such a thing to us?”
Seth shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“How?”
“The fire chief says it was started near the kitchen. We were supposed to think it was a grease fire.”
This whole situation was becoming more unreal by the minute.
“Whoever did it was stupid,” he said grimly. “Or else they wanted to be caught.”
That, at least, was encouraging. Justine wanted whoever had done this to be caught, too. Wanted that person to face his—or her—day in court, to receive the maximum sentence.
“The fire chief asked if we had any disgruntled employees,” Seth murmured. He, too, seemed to be in shock.
“Do we?” Seth was the one who handled the hiring and firing, plus the scheduling of staff. Justine had enough to do working as a hostess and keeping their financial records straight.
“Anson Butler was pretty angry when I laid him off.” Seth’s voice was hoarse, and he hardly sounded like himself.
Justine remembered now that Seth had laid off two employees recently. “What about the other kid?”
“Tony Philpott,” Seth told her. “He seemed to take it in stride. I hear he’s already got another job.”
“Oh.”
“The police want to question Anson. He’s missing. They’re looking for him now.”
Justine leaned close to her husband. “I hope they find him.”
Seth nodded. He placed his free arm around her shoulders, and pulled her against him. “We’ll get through this.”
“Of course we will,” Justine said. She just didn’t know how.
Fifty
With a heavy heart, Maryellen set down the phone after talking to Kelly. She felt like weeping. Nothing was going right. Bedridden and miserable during this difficult pregnancy, she counted the days until she could get on with her life again.
