I snapped off the flashlight as he climbed out from under my sink. “You’re seriously going to lecture me about fire safety right now?”
He dumped his tools in his bag, muttering my sister’s name like a swear. “Your sister told you, didn’t she?” I fixed him with a sharp look. “It’s nowhere near as bad as she probably made it sound. It was probably just some delinquent kids, sneaking around on an empty farm and screwing around with matches. The only reason the police are looking into it is because the insurance company won’t process a claim unless I file a report.”
“Fine. But until we know for certain that fire wasn’t targeted at you, I’m sure we can both agree that the kids will be safer at my house.”
“My house is perfectly safe!”
“Really? Are you sure? Because someone doused your trailer in accelerant and tossed a Molotov cocktail through the window at your couch!” I snapped my mouth shut. The children’s bedroom door shut quietly upstairs, a floorboard squeaking on the top step where Vero was probably listening.
Steven’s eyes narrowed. “The cops didn’t say anything about accelerant. Did Georgia tell you that?”
“She called me first thing this morning. Which is more than I can say for you.” Steven and Georgia hated each other. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t compare notes.
“If it makes you feel better, I have an appointment with the security monitoring company today. In a couple of hours, I’ll know who’s responsible for that fire, and this will all be over anyway. Your sister has no business getting involved.”
“She’s their aunt, Steven. And she has serious reservations about letting the kids spend the night at your house.”
“She’s not even a parent!”
“No, she’s a cop! And I trust her judgment on this! So either you and I can handle this between the two of us, or I can ask my attorney to get involved.”
His laugh was cutting. “Who? The kid in the Jeep?”
“No, Steven. The one I will hire and pay to deliver a court order to Guy, informing him that there was an attempt made on your life and he is to suspend all visitation until this is sorted out.”
“Fine!” He snatched up his tools and stormed from the kitchen. “Have it your way. But you’re overreacting.” He shoved his arms in the sleeves of his coat and jerked open the door. “No one was trying to kill me, Finn. The only person who hates me that much is you.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he slammed the door behind him.
I flipped the lock and rested my head against the frame as Vero padded down the stairs. “What did you find on his phone?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said, following her into the kitchen. She handed me a broom. With a weary sigh, I swept the soggy Cheerios off the floor. “Just a lot of calls to and from Bree that ended the week he laid her off. And one call to her house last week. Probably a drunken attempt at a booty call,” I said, remembering how lost and alone he’d looked, standing in my driveway on Thanksgiving night. “He must have deleted any records of the mystery woman’s calls.”
“Then we’re back to square one,” Vero said, scooping up an armful of sopping towels and dropping them into a laundry basket.
I dumped the Cheerios into the trash can as Vero knelt to return the cleaning chemicals to their place under the cabinet. “There has to be something we overlooked in his trailer. Did you find any leads in Steven’s books?”
“Nothing that jumped out. He was current on all of his bills as far as I could tell.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she stowed the last of the bottles. “Except now that I think about it, there was one statement that seemed odd.”
“Odd how?”
She closed the cabinet door, dusting off her hands and rising slowly to her feet. “Steven’s been renting a five-by-eight storage unit since August.”
“But in August he was living at Theresa’s house. Why would he have needed a storage unit?”
“Exactly.”
“You think he was hiding something from her?”
She arched an eyebrow. “It wouldn’t surprise me. He is a lying dirtbag, but he’s also cheap. So why would he pay for storage when he has those huge sheds for his tractors at his farm. Why not keep his pervy, man-cave crap there? Why rent a storage unit an hour away. In West Virginia?”
“West Virginia?”
“The best place to hide a dirty secret is across a state line, Finn. Whatever Steven’s hiding in that storage unit must be important.”