6 Rainier Drive (7 page)

As the news began, her mind wandered back to the dinner with Bruce. She felt that their relationship had subtly changed in the last few months. She wasn't sure how it'd happened or what it meant. She hadn't lied or misled Nate; dinner tonight
wasn't
a romantic tryst. Far from it. Yet something seemed different. Rachel could only wonder why that was.

When the news anchor spoke about the chess championship, she mentioned only a few of the details—the most prominent being that after his stunning first-match defeat, Bobby Polgar had taken the second match and then the third, winning the championship.

A
fter 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 Light
house 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.”

All at once Seth realized he did need to confide in someone. Someone who knew him well, yet could maintain a perspective on the whole situation and everyone involved. Someone whose advice he trusted. Who else but his father? Sighing deeply, Seth braced his elbows on his knees. “Justine and I had an argument this morning. It wasn't over anything important. We're both on edge these days with the fire and all.”

His father didn't respond for a moment. “That doesn't sound good.”

“The problem is, I don't know what to do with myself these days. I wanted to start rebuilding as soon as possible. Then, a couple of weeks ago, Justine dropped this bombshell about not being sure rebuilding was such a good idea. She seems to believe we should just forget about the restaurant.” Seth lowered his voice.

He sucked in his breath and waited for his father's reaction. He assumed Leif would react the same way he had—with shock and disbelief. The fact that he didn't immediately say anything surprised him. “So, what do you think?” Seth pressed.

His father leaned back, closing his eyes. “Did she give you a reason?”

Seth had been too shocked to take in much of what Justine had said. At the time, he'd figured it was simply her way of dealing with the aftermath of the fire. “My wife is talking nonsense,” he said. “We
need
the restaurant. It's how we make our living. Okay, she's right—I do put in a lot of hours and the work is demanding. The profit margin isn't exactly what we'd hoped, but we were doing pretty well.”

He looked at his father, but Leif still didn't give any indication of what he was thinking.

“It's total nonsense,” Seth insisted a second time. “Of course we should rebuild!”

“What do you plan to do while you're waiting for everything to come together?” his father asked instead.

If Seth had the answer to that, he wouldn't be hanging around the marina. “I don't know.” This gave the matter of rebuilding top priority in his mind. Filling his days with the reconstruction project would ease his depression. Seth had been raised with a strong work ethic; he'd worked summers and after school from the time he was thirteen. He didn't know what to do with himself when he wasn't working. Outside of his role as a husband and father, his identity, his sense of who he was, came from what he did. Without work, he had no purpose.

Leif quirked a brow in his direction. “Do you love Justine?”

That question came as another shock. “More than my life.” Seth had loved her when they were in high school and he'd carried a torch for her years afterward, too. She'd gone off to college and he'd half expected her to marry some rich boy there. But she'd returned to Cedar Cove, starting work at the bank. He'd never believed she would love him, didn't even think it was a possibility.

“You might listen to her, then,” his father advised.

“I
do
listen, but she's talking foolishness.”

“You might be listening, but you're not hearing her.”

At that, Seth turned to stare at his father. “You're saying I should let all those years of work go down the drain?”

“No. I'm saying you need to
listen
to your wife.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Seth flared. Everyone seemed to have an opinion but no one had offered him a solution.

His father didn't answer. A moment later, he casually continued the conversation. “I was talking to Larry Boone the other day,” Leif said as he tossed another pebble in the water. “You remember Larry, don't you?”

Seth nodded. His father had purchased a fishing boat from the other man. Seth had owned a half interest in the boat and when they sold it, they'd invested that money in the restaurant.

“Larry's looking for a salesman and asked if I'd be interested in coming out of retirement. The way he figured it, I'd been around fishing and boats all my life. He's selling pleasure crafts, too, and offered me a commission that sounded almost too good to be true.”

Seth thought his father was probably glad of an excuse to go back to work. Adjusting to retirement hadn't been as easy as he'd assumed it would be. “Are you going to do it?” he asked.

“I considered it,” his father said, grinning. “But then I talked to your mother, and she was dead set
against it.” Leif rubbed the side of his face. “She's been waiting all these years for us to travel. She's got her heart set on buying one of those RVs and driving across the country. She isn't about to let me take up a second career at this stage.”

Seth chuckled, understanding his father's advice. “So that's the reason you're telling me I need to listen to my wife. You're listening to yours.”

His father chuckled, too. “You know your mother. When she wants something, she makes sure I hear about it.”

Seth did know and love his mother, and he had to agree she generally found ways of getting what she wanted. He loved the give and take of his parents' marriage, and their ability to compromise.

“I don't much like the idea of driving one of those battleships,” Leif admitted, “but I'll do it, and by the time we get back, my guess is I'll be able to park that thing as slick as any boat I ever steered.”

Seth didn't doubt it for an instant.

“I phoned Larry this morning,” he went on, “and told him I had to refuse.”

“Was he disappointed?”

“He was,” Leif said, “so I gave him your number and suggested he call you.”

“Me?” Seth asked. “You think I can sell boats?”

“Why not? You know as much about fishing as I do, and what you don't know about pleasure crafts
you can learn. The money's good, and it'll help you fill in the time until you decide about the restaurant.”

Seth needed to talk to Justine. This idea suddenly seemed right to him, but he wanted a few days to mull it over.

He sat with his father a while longer, chatting companionably about friends and neighbors, then headed home. Justine was vacuuming when Seth walked in and didn't hear him. He stopped to admire her as she worked. Her long hair flowed unrestrained down her back and her lithe body moved gracefully as she pushed the vacuum cleaner. Justine's concentration on any task was always complete; it was one of the many traits he loved.

He regretted their argument and was sorry for the things he'd said.

When she turned and saw him standing just inside the door, she jumped, startled. “Seth!” She switched off the vacuum cleaner. “When did you get home?”

“Just now.” He walked toward her. “Where's Leif?”

“Preschool. I need to pick him up in half an hour.” Her gaze didn't meet his as she swept the hair away from her face. “Did the sheriff have any news?”

He shook his head. “He showed me a picture of a pewter cross. You might take a look and see if you
recognize it, although there's no guarantee it's connected to the arsonist.” He paused. “If the sheriff doesn't get any leads from that, I feel we should contact Roy McAfee.”

Justine didn't respond to any of those statements. “I'm sorry about this morning,” she murmured instead.

“I am, too.” He walked toward her, and she stepped into his embrace. “We need to talk,” he said, holding her close.