Chapter Nine

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Angel hoped like hell that soon they’d have answers as to what’d happened to Kenton. The civilian in him wanted to hear what Birdie had to say right away. But the former cop wondered if this info should be given down at the police station after the woman had been Mirandized.

But one look at Birdie’s husband, Roger, and Angel knew the man wasn’t going to easily let that happen. He kept a protective arm around his wife as they walked back downstairs, and he shot Angel and Presley a few glares that weren’t hard to interpret.

Don’t do anything to hurt or upset my wife .

So, if Angel insisted they go to the cops, Roger would likely just lawyer up, and it could be hours or even days before they found out what had happened. Angel needed to know now because he was battling his own need to keep someone safe.

Mia.

With Birdie’s blood on the knife, then maybe he’d be able to clear Mia’s name here and now. And while he was hoping, he added that this conversation didn’t come back to legally bite him in the ass.

With Melanie leading the way, the seven of them went downstairs and to the back of the house to the kitchen. It had been updated since he’d lived here, not in a high-end kind of way, but the white appliances looked fairly new, and the old linoleum floor had been replaced with gray wood planks. It still had that homey, welcoming feel.

There were plenty of memories here, mostly good, of the delicious meals that Melanie had cooked for them. Nothing was simmering on the stove today, but there was the scent of coffee.

“Excuse me for just a minute,” RJ said, looking and sounding as frazzled as Melanie. “I need to run to the bathroom before we get started.” And he headed out of the kitchen.

“Should I pour us all cups?” Melanie asked, motioning toward the coffeepot. “It’s fresh, and I have some scones.”

They all declined, but Birdie asked for some water. Melanie got it for her, and they sat at the huge table. Birdie gulped down nearly half of the water, set the glass on the table, and ran her fingers over the outside surface. What she didn’t do was launch into an explanation.

“This is very hard for my wife,” Roger said several moments later, just as RJ came back into the room. “And FYI, I didn’t want her to come here. I have lawyers who can handle this sort of thing.”

Bingo. Angel had been right about Roger being the lawyering up type, and it was a reminder for him to throttle back on the cop attitude. If Roger took Birdie out of there, they’d still get the answers since she would be questioned by the cops, but Angel wanted to hear what she had to say now.

Birdie moved her hand to Roger’s and linked her fingers with his. “Kenton was going to try to frame the two of you for his murder,” she finally said.

Of all the things that he’d expected the woman to say, that wasn’t one of them. Judging from the surprised expressions, no one else other than Roger had been expecting it either.

Birdie paused a long time before she continued. “I went up to Kenton’s room to give him a piece of my mind about what he did to Mia.” Another pause. “I’d been with Kenton. I’m not proud of that, but I’d been with him, and I wanted to know what the hell he was thinking when he and I were supposed to be together.”

Another surprise. Angel had had no idea that Birdie and Kenton had been lovers. And that was puzzling in a different kind of way. Usually, his foster siblings couldn’t keep that sort of thing a secret. But then, someone had kept Kenton’s death a secret all these years, so anything was possible.

“You were jealous?” Mia asked. “Because if so, I didn’t lead Kenton on or anything. I was firmly hooked up with Angel.”

“I know,” Birdie assured her. “Melanie told me how it had all played out, and I went to confront Kenton about it.”

“About what time?” Ruby asked.

“Only about fifteen minutes after the attack.” Birdie stopped, drank more water. “I didn’t knock on his door. I just barged right in, and I saw the blood. Kenton had cut himself and was letting the blood drip on the floor. He’d already flung some spatter onto the walls and his bed.”

“He cut himself?” Melanie pressed her now trembling fingers to her mouth. “Oh, God.”

“Yes, that was my reaction,” Birdie muttered. “He yelled at me to get out and tried to shove me out of the room, but I held my ground and demanded to know what he was doing. He said he was going to make some people pay and pay hard. He said they’d regret ever dicking around with him.” She paused again. “He had Mia’s knife, and I tried to grab it from him, but I ended up cutting my hand on the blade before Kenton jerked it out of my reach.”

So, that’s how her blood had gotten on the knife.

Well, maybe.

All of this could be bullshit to make it seem as if she wasn’t a killer.

“What happened then?” Angel prompted to get her talking again.

Birdie did, but her hands were trembling now, too. “Kenton punched me, hard, in the stomach, and he put the knife to my throat. He said if I told anyone what I’d seen in his room, that he’d kill me. I believed him,” she added in a whisper. “I believed him, and I ran. I hid in the attic while I tried to calm down and think of what to do.”

Angel nearly demanded to know why she hadn’t gone to RJ or Melanie. Or why she hadn’t called 911. But one look at Roger and he throttled back. He tried to plaster on his poker face.

“And what did you end up doing?” Angel settled for saying.

Birdie opened her mouth to answer, but Roger spoke first. “I’ll remind you that my wife was a teenager who’d just been violently assaulted by a predator. She was almost certainly in shock.”

Hell. Did that mean Birdie had murdered Kenton? No way did Angel want to throw out that question so he just waited.

“I’m not sure how long I stayed in the attic,” Birdie finally continued. “But I decided to go downstairs and talk to Melanie. When I got to the boys’ wing, I could see that Kenton’s door was open so I risked glancing inside. I saw the blood, more of it than had been there earlier.” She looked at her husband, who nodded. “I cleaned it up and threw away the towel.”

“Because she didn’t want Mia to be blamed for what Kenton was trying to do,” Roger snarled, looking directly at Mia. “Birdie was protecting you.”

Maybe. But Birdie could have been protecting herself, too.

“Kenton was alive the last time I saw him,” Birdie went on. “And I have no idea how he ended up dead.”

Angel had to go with another maybe on this. Birdie could be lying. He could see Kenton setting up the scene to make it look as if he’d been murdered, but Kenton sure as hell hadn’t buried himself. Someone had put him in that grave.

And that led him back to the questions of logistics.

Kenton and he both owned cars. Junkers they’d bought to get them to and from their part-time jobs. Angel had had his car and keys with him that night, but Kenton’s could have been used to transport the body and then left somewhere or destroyed to conceal the forensic evidence that would have been in the vehicle.

Using the vehicle accomplished something else, too. It had made it seem as if Kenton could have just driven away. Since the cops had never even looked for it, there was no hope in finding it after all this time.

“Anyone here?” someone called out.

Angel muttered some profanity because he instantly recognized the voice. Dwight. And it was obvious the man was already inside the house.

“Anyone here?” Dwight called out again, but before the last word had left his mouth, he was already in the arched opening of the kitchen.

Hell. How long had he been here?

Angel recalled that Melanie hadn’t locked the door when they’d come in. Apparently, neither had Birdie.

“It’s customary to knock or ring the bell when you come to someone’s home,” Angel snarled as he got to his feet. So did Mia, Presley, and RJ.

For just an instant he saw the fury flash through Dwight’s eyes, but the man quickly tamped it down. “I know. I’m sorry. I knocked. At least, I think I did, but I feel like I’m in a trance. A grief trance for my boy.”

Oh, butter wouldn’t melt in that lying-assed mouth.

Dwight slid glances all around the table, lingering a moment and scowling a bit at RJ. Then again, according to RJ, the two had had a run-in.

“Why are you here?” Angel pressed just as Roger asked, “Who are you?”

Dwight volleyed glances at both of them and must have decided he could get a warmer reception from Roger.

“I’m Dwight Barker, Kenton’s father. It’s just awful what happened to my boy.” He gave his head a sad little shake and hiked his thumb in the direction of the foyer. “I was driving by the house, thinking of the times I’d visited Kenton here, and I saw all the vehicles. I figured whoever was in here would be talking about Kenton. Do any of you have any news about my son?”

“No,” Angel was quick to say. Definitely no need to spill any of what Birdie had just told them. “I’m sure the cops will fill you in on anything they learn.”

Dwight sighed. “That’s just it. They’re not filling me in. They’ve left me on my own to find out what happened to Kenton.” He seemed to try to conjure up those tears again by rapidly blinking his eyes. “Somebody please tell me what happened to him. Please.”

And with that, he turned to Birdie.

Angel did more cursing because he was almost certain now that Dwight had heard what she’d said.

“I, uh,” Birdie muttered, but Roger squeezed her hand.

“My wife is upset, and I think she’s had enough of this miserable trip down memory lane for the time being.” He stood, easing Birdie up with him, while he shifted his attention to Ruby. “I trust you have everything you need and that you’ll handle this with the care and diligence that your reputation indicates you have.”

Ruby nodded.

Dwight pounced right on that. “ This ? What do you mean by this ? What’s going on here?”

Angel was about to repeat that bit about Dwight getting any other info from the cops, but he stopped when he caught a whiff of something. Something he didn’t want to smell.

Smoke.

Angel’s gaze slashed to Presley, who was already moving. It was a risk to take Mia with him, but no way did he want to leave her alone with Dwight, so he took hold of her hand and hurried off with Presley and her. The moment they reached the foyer, they saw the smoke billowing down the stairs.

“I’m calling the fire department,” Presley said, taking out his phone while the three of them started up the stairs for a closer look.

A glance over his shoulder let him know that RJ and Melanie had rushed into the foyer as well.

“What’s happening?” Melanie blurted.

Angel didn’t answer. He just went up a few more steps and saw exactly what he’d expected to see.

The flames shooting out the doorway of Kenton’s room.

“Hell,” Angel spat out, and he ran to the closet in the foyer where he recalled there was a fire extinguisher. One was indeed there, and he grabbed it and started barreling up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I’ll get the fire extinguisher from the kitchen,” RJ shouted, and he ran in that direction.

Angel shot Presley a glance that he hoped conveyed his concerns. He needed Presley to keep an eye on Mia in case this turned into some kind of full-blown attack. After all, the gunman was still at large.

And Dwight was right here in the house.

So was Birdie, and she was still high on Angel’s suspect list.

Presley picked up on the glance because he moved next to Mia and he drew his gun. Ruby was already on the phone with someone, probably the fire department. Melanie was grabbing spare blankets and throws that she took from a chest in the living room.

While Dwight stood there, watching.

And while Roger whisked Birdie out the door.

Angel hurried to Kenton’s room, staying back in case the fire rushed out at him. It didn’t, but he couldn’t see anything but flames. However, he could smell something.

Gasoline.

He hadn’t thought for one second that this was some kind of accident, and the accelerant proved it. Now, the question was had Dwight set it or was someone else responsible?

Angel took aim with the fire extinguisher, spraying the doorway. Thankfully, the extinguisher was large, the type businesses often had around, and he was able to douse enough of the flames so he could see inside.

Shit.

The fire was mainly on the bed, which was fully ablaze, but the black smoke had already coated the walls and ceiling. It was a good thing the CSIs had already gathered what they could.

But did the arsonist know that? Or was this some attempt to destroy potential evidence?

Angel hoped he’d have the answers to that soon.

He heard the footsteps behind him and saw RJ rushing toward him with a second fire extinguisher. They released the foam together, taking direct aim at the bed now that the fire had been put out in the doorway. They continued to battle the flames until the bed was completely coated.

With his breath gusting, RJ stood back, taking in the damage. And Angel saw something on the man’s face that surprised him.

Relief?

He had to be wrong about that, didn’t he? But he couldn’t be sure.

Shit.

Was RJ responsible for this? And if so, what the hell else had he done?

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