6 Rainier Drive. Debbie Macomber

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       Eight

      After pacing the hallway outside the sheriff’s office, Seth Gunderson sat restlessly on a nearby bench. Apparently Troy Davis had some news about the fire. Even after nearly a month, Seth had trouble adjusting to the reality of his and Justine’s loss. It felt as if he were in the middle of Leif’s toy kaleidoscope, the pieces of his life tossed about willy-nilly, forming random patterns that made no sense to him.

      Despite his best efforts, Seth discovered himself lashing out at those around him. He felt guilty about the way he’d behaved and was thankful for Justine’s patience, although they’d had a spat just that morning.

      Her comment a couple of weeks earlier that she might not want to rebuild had come as a shock. In his opinion, she wasn’t thinking clearly. He refused to let some unknown arsonist make his decisions for him. And the more his wife tried to convince him to consider options other than rebuilding, the more he shut her out. One thing was certain: Seth couldn’t sit around the house like this much longer. He was going stir-crazy, with nothing to do but fret and fume. Since Justine’s announcement, he hadn’t even found any pleasure in considering new designs for the restaurant.

      The office door opened, and Troy stepped into the hallway. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” the sheriff said, extending his hand.

      Seth stood and the two exchanged handshakes. Troy gestured toward his office, then went back inside and sat at his desk. Seth took the chair across from him.

      “I was on the phone with the fire marshal when you arrived,” Troy explained.

      Anxious to hear the latest update, Seth leaned forward. “So what’s the news?”

      Troy tipped his chair back and locked his fingers behind his head. “There’s one detail that might be significant, but I’ll get to that later. The inspector hired by the insurance company confirmed what we already knew—that the fire was purposely set. An accelerant was used, probably gasoline. It started near the kitchen, then spread to your office and quickly engulfed the main dining room.”

      “Suspects?”

      “As you know, I’ve interviewed the employees,” Troy told him, dropping his arms and picking up a folder on his desk. “Plus former employees,” he added.

      Seth frowned. “Tony Philpott?”

      Davis nodded slowly. “He’d recently been laid off, correct?”

      Seth pressed his hands against the side of his chair. “I was forced to lay off both Tony and Anson Butler because of the money missing from my office. Both had access and opportunity. Between you and me, I think Tony was the one who took it, but I can’t be sure. We never found it, and I don’t have any proof. It was an unfortunate situation, and I probably didn’t handle it as well as I should have.”

      Seth wished now that he’d dealt with the whole mess some other way. In retrospect he could understand Anson’s anger. Yet he did have a bad track record and despite the boy’s attempt to prove himself, Seth wasn’t entirely satisfied that he could trust him.

      “Philpott was out of town at the time of the arson,” Troy said. “His alibi checks out.”

      Seth released a sigh. He didn’t want to think Anson had anything to do with the fire, and yet what else was he to believe? The boy was already responsible for one arson in town, and The Lighthouse had gone up in flames right after he was laid off. All the pieces seemed to fall together, and for once the pattern made a horrible kind of sense.

      “Have you ever seen this?” Troy surprised him by asking. “It’s what I was referring to earlier.” He held out a photograph of a large pewter cross, then passed it to Seth.

      Seth studied the photo and shook his head. He couldn’t remember seeing it before, but that wasn’t saying much. He never paid much attention to jewelry.

      “Where did you find it?” The cross looked partially melted, so it must have been either in the fire or close to it.

      “The fire inspectors came across it in the rubble, near the office. It might mean nothing, but then again…” He shrugged. “At this point we just don’t know. I’ll keep you updated on anything we learn.”

      Seth stood up. “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

      On his way out of the office, Seth checked his watch. Ten. The entire day stretched before him, about as empty as a discarded beer bottle. This past month was the first time since he’d bought the old Captain’s Galley restaurant and remodeled it that he’d had nothing to do.

      Before this, there weren’t enough hours in a day. His schedule was full; he’d constantly had meetings and plans and new ideas. His lack of purpose was killing him. Of course, he could go back home, but his relationship with Justine was strained. He loved his wife, but he didn’t understand her anymore. Right now, he needed breathing room, a place where he could collect his thoughts, try to figure out what came next.

      Seth had always done his best thinking on the water and it seemed natural to go down to the marina. He kept his sailboat moored there but couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken her out. The air was crisp and clean, and he breathed deeply as he strolled over to the waterfront. Sailboats and motorboats of various sizes were secured in their slips, bobbing gently, peacefully, in the dark-green waters.

      “Seth.”

      At the sound of his name, he turned to see his father walking toward him. Seth smiled. He’d always been close to his family. He and his father had once been partners in a fishing enterprise, which took them to Alaska for a number of months each year. The money was good, but the work was dangerous, and when Justine came into his life, Seth knew it was time to make a career change. His father’s help had been instrumental in starting the restaurant.

      “You spoke with the sheriff?” Leif Gunderson asked when he joined him.

      Seth nodded. He hadn’t mentioned this to his father, which meant Leif had been talking to Justine. “There’s nothing new to report about how the fire was set—we already know that—or by whom. The inspector found a pewter cross in the ashes. That’s the biggest news. But I have no idea who it belongs to and we can’t be sure it’s even connected to the arsonist.”

      Leif frowned, as if pondering this latest bit of information. They sat on a park bench outside the marina. “How are things at home?” his father asked.

      Seth figured his wife had given him an earful. Then again, it wasn’t like Justine to share their personal problems with others. “What makes you ask?” Seth murmured. He reached down and picked up a pebble and threw it into the water.

      His father picked one up, too, and tossed it toward the cove. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that you looked like you wanted to talk.”