disbelief.
“My God,” she said.
The Pritchard ranch was an institution around here, a symbol of wealth and power. And despite what she might think of the Pritchards themselves, to see their home reduced to little more than black ash was both shocking and depressing. She’d never been one to find glee in other people’s pain, even if she didn’t much care for them.
Sheriff Mercer broke away from a group of firefighters and approached Callie and the others.
“Don’t suppose it’s much of a surprise,” he told them, “but the arson boys are saying this wasn’t an accident.”
Harlan and Callie hadn’t uttered more than a few syllables to each other since he’d emerged from the house with Gloria, and that was just fine with her. But now he said to Mercer, “Megan Pritchard, no doubt.”
“Based on her history and the condition we found that pickup truck, I’d say that’s a pretty good assumption.”
“So we were right,” Callie said. “Jonah was hiding her and her friends. Question is, where are they now? And where’s Jonah?”
Mercer pointed to a spot near the center of the house, where a black lump could be seen, just barely, near a patch of flames that were struggling to stay alive.
Callie hadn’t noticed it before. Another so-called crispy critter.
Oh, Lord.
She swallowed dryly.
“We’re thinking he was probably shot, too,” Mercer said. “Won’t know for sure until the medical examiner gets hold of him. Or what’s left of him.”
Harlan squinted at the body. “You sure that’s Pritchard?”
“Got a witness says it is.”
Callie was surprised. “Who?”
“Landry Bickham.”
“Landry?” she said. She hadn’t seen him in all the confusion. “Where is he?”
Mercer gestured to another ambulance across the tarmac. The first one had already taken Gloria to the hospital. “They found him in the backyard. I took a statement from him while Dudley Do-Right here was getting patched up.”
The burns Harlan had suffered were minor, mostly to his hands and forearm. He ignored the jab and turned to Callie. “We’re talking about the gatekeeper, right? The one with the shotgun?”
She nodded and Mercer said, “He’s been with the Pritchards since high school. Says he tried to drag Gloria out of the back, but the smoke got to be too much for him.”
“Is he conscious?” Harlan asked.
“They’ve got him on a gurney in there, but last I looked he was wide awake.”
Harlan nodded and abruptly headed across the tarmac toward the ambulance.
Callie followed him.
The rear doors of the truck were hanging open to reveal Landry lying on the gurney inside, breathing through an oxygen mask as a paramedic tended to a burn on his forehead.
“Mr. Bickham?”
Landry rolled his eyes around in their sockets until his gaze was on Harlan. He reached up and pulled the mask aside, his trademark smile nowhere in evidence. “Still wanna arrest me?”
“Just need you to answer a few questions.”
“I already told Sheriff Mercer what I know.”
“I prefer to get my information firsthand,” Harlan said.
“Can’t stop you from asking.”
“That’s right. So why don’t you tell me what happened here?”
“What do you think happened? House burnt down.”
“I think there’s more to it than that. Where were you when the fire started?”
Landry grabbed hold of the gurney rail and pulled himself upright. The paramedic tried to stop him, but Landry ignored the guy, keeping his gaze on Harlan. “You accusing me of something?”
“Are you guilty of something? I mean besides intimidating federal and county law enforcement deputies with a shotgun.”
“I never pointed that weapon at you. And I was just doing what Jonah told me to.”
“Did you always do what he told you to?”
“That was my job,” Landry said.
“Did that include helping him hide his granddaughter and her two friends?”
Landry frowned. “What’s Meg got to do with this?”
Callie moved up closer to the
“My God,” she said.
The Pritchard ranch was an institution around here, a symbol of wealth and power. And despite what she might think of the Pritchards themselves, to see their home reduced to little more than black ash was both shocking and depressing. She’d never been one to find glee in other people’s pain, even if she didn’t much care for them.
Sheriff Mercer broke away from a group of firefighters and approached Callie and the others.
“Don’t suppose it’s much of a surprise,” he told them, “but the arson boys are saying this wasn’t an accident.”
Harlan and Callie hadn’t uttered more than a few syllables to each other since he’d emerged from the house with Gloria, and that was just fine with her. But now he said to Mercer, “Megan Pritchard, no doubt.”
“Based on her history and the condition we found that pickup truck, I’d say that’s a pretty good assumption.”
“So we were right,” Callie said. “Jonah was hiding her and her friends. Question is, where are they now? And where’s Jonah?”
Mercer pointed to a spot near the center of the house, where a black lump could be seen, just barely, near a patch of flames that were struggling to stay alive.
Callie hadn’t noticed it before. Another so-called crispy critter.
Oh, Lord.
She swallowed dryly.
“We’re thinking he was probably shot, too,” Mercer said. “Won’t know for sure until the medical examiner gets hold of him. Or what’s left of him.”
Harlan squinted at the body. “You sure that’s Pritchard?”
“Got a witness says it is.”
Callie was surprised. “Who?”
“Landry Bickham.”
“Landry?” she said. She hadn’t seen him in all the confusion. “Where is he?”
Mercer gestured to another ambulance across the tarmac. The first one had already taken Gloria to the hospital. “They found him in the backyard. I took a statement from him while Dudley Do-Right here was getting patched up.”
The burns Harlan had suffered were minor, mostly to his hands and forearm. He ignored the jab and turned to Callie. “We’re talking about the gatekeeper, right? The one with the shotgun?”
She nodded and Mercer said, “He’s been with the Pritchards since high school. Says he tried to drag Gloria out of the back, but the smoke got to be too much for him.”
“Is he conscious?” Harlan asked.
“They’ve got him on a gurney in there, but last I looked he was wide awake.”
Harlan nodded and abruptly headed across the tarmac toward the ambulance.
Callie followed him.
The rear doors of the truck were hanging open to reveal Landry lying on the gurney inside, breathing through an oxygen mask as a paramedic tended to a burn on his forehead.
“Mr. Bickham?”
Landry rolled his eyes around in their sockets until his gaze was on Harlan. He reached up and pulled the mask aside, his trademark smile nowhere in evidence. “Still wanna arrest me?”
“Just need you to answer a few questions.”
“I already told Sheriff Mercer what I know.”
“I prefer to get my information firsthand,” Harlan said.
“Can’t stop you from asking.”
“That’s right. So why don’t you tell me what happened here?”
“What do you think happened? House burnt down.”
“I think there’s more to it than that. Where were you when the fire started?”
Landry grabbed hold of the gurney rail and pulled himself upright. The paramedic tried to stop him, but Landry ignored the guy, keeping his gaze on Harlan. “You accusing me of something?”
“Are you guilty of something? I mean besides intimidating federal and county law enforcement deputies with a shotgun.”
“I never pointed that weapon at you. And I was just doing what Jonah told me to.”
“Did you always do what he told you to?”
“That was my job,” Landry said.
“Did that include helping him hide his granddaughter and her two friends?”
Landry frowned. “What’s Meg got to do with this?”
Callie moved up closer to the
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