“I want to catch him too. We both want the same things.”

“Grant didn’t do it,” Tina said firmly.

“He’s got the best motive. If he didn’t do it, who did? This thing was no accident.”

Tina paused. “I think I know.”

“Then by all means, fill us in. Otherwise I’m sending out the boys to bring in Mr. Rutledge on suspicion of arson.” The detective pulled out a notebook and flipped it open, pen at the ready. “Well?”

Sheriff Ikes gave the detective a look, then gave Tina a kind smile. “Whenever you’re ready, Miss Miller. We only want to help you. Now tell us, who do you think did this thing?”

Tina took a deep breath. “I…” She shifted in her chair uncomfortably. “I would rather not say. But I know it wasn’t Grant.”

“I’ve heard all I need to hear.” The detective slapped his notebook closed and moved for the door.

“Wait!” Tina cried. “Don’t arrest Grant. He didn’t do it.”

“Who did?” The detective asked, hand on the doorknob.

Tina weighed her options, then made a decision. “It’s your job to figure that out.”

Tina stood up and brushed past the detective out the door. She ignored the sheriff calling after her and hurried from the station, drawing a shaky breath when she was outside. She knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere talking to the police. They were already ignoring her. If she explained her suspicions to them, they would most likely dismiss it anyway.

Grant would be okay. She knew Beau would use every connection he had to protect his son, and spare no expense on a legal defense if it came to that. Tina doubted it would.

Tina needed answers, and she was going to have to go about finding them on her own. She knew what she had to do.

She walked around town until she found a payphone, dropped some coins into it and dialled a number. She glanced at her watch. It was early out west, but hopefully not too early.

On the fifth ring, a gravelly voice answered, sounding irritated. “Hello?”

Tina gulped as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line, a voice she hadn’t heard in far too long. She swallowed around a lump in her throat.

“Who is this?” the voice demanded, sounding slightly more awake.

“It’s me. It’s Christina.”

There was a pause. “Christina?”

“Hi, Daddy. We need to talk.”