But Beth didn’t take the bait. “I might not get it,” she said. “I might not love it. But if it’s important to you, it’s important to me. I’m not going to throw someone out for doing something I don’t understand.”
Lana flinched, turning her head to see if Jack was listening. The girl was following every word.
“If tracking down murderers is what you want to do, I’m not going to stop you,” Beth said. “And frankly, I don’t imagine anyone else could either.”
Beth held her hand out to her mother. Lana placed the empty Styrofoam cup back in her daughter’s hand, gently brushing her fingers as she did so.
“Let’s get out of here,” Lana said. “If we’re going to make progress, we need decent coffee.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After getting cleared by the hospital with a stern directive to rest, change her bandages daily, and return if she had trouble breathing, Lana and her girls went home. She slept most of the weekend, rousing only to return Detective Ramirez’s call and request a meeting as soon as possible to discuss the fire.
Early Monday morning, she woke to hear Beth on the phone in the kitchen, wavering over a request to cover another nurse’s shift at Bayshore Oaks. Lana pulled herself up to standing and shuffled out of the back bedroom, ignoring the flickering pain that accompanied the movement.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go to work. Go to school. I can take care of myself.”
As soon as her girls left, Lana took her pills and crashed back into bed.
Three hours later, armed in a cream-colored suit, heavy makeup, and a wig with bangs to cover the worst of her bruises, Lana opened the door for the detectives.
As soon as she saw them, Lana was glad she’d dressed up. Instead of her dour older partner, Detective Ramirez was accompanied by a young, well-built man with teeth so white they glowed.
“Ms. Rubicon.” Ramirez nodded. “How are you doing? When I came to the hospital, your daughter told me about your ordeal, and the lung cancer, and—”
“I’m fine,” Lana snapped. She tried to sound as strong as possible.
Ramirez pulled back at her sharp tone. “Well . . . good. This is Detective Choi, from Santa Cruz PD. He’s leading the investigation into the fire at the land trust.”
“Investigation? So it was arson?”
“We’re looking into it.” His white shirt was crisp, his tie well knotted. “I hear you had quite the adventure in our city.”
“You have my Lexus,” Lana said.
“It’s safe in our lot.”
“Safe from what?”
The detective flashed his perfect teeth instead of answering. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Lana sat down at the table and walked the detectives through her experience. Choi interrupted her several times, asking where she had parked her car, who she had seen in the building, and when she first detected the fire. Throughout her retelling, he took careful notes. Ramirez hung back, leaning against the kitchen counter with a travel mug in hand. She didn’t say a word.
“The first thing you saw on fire was a tree behind the building?”
Lana looked to the window. But the slough was invisible to her. Instead, she saw the burning eucalyptus, dropping a fountain of sparks onto the building.
“That’s correct.”
Choi sighed. “Thank you, Ms. Rubicon.” He looked disappointed.
“Have you talked to everyone who was there?” Lana asked.
“You were the last one. I hoped you might have something new to tell me.”
Lana felt very sorry she didn’t.
Then a thought occurred to her. “Detective, was the fire set inside the building?”
Choi looked up, interested. “Is that why you exited via the window? Did you think the main office wasn’t safe?”
“No. I couldn’t get to the office. The door was locked. Or stuck. I don’t know which. And then when no one came to get me . . .”
Both detectives were looking at her now.
“Don’t you think that’s suspicious? That I was trapped in that room during the fire?” Lana tried not to let too much indignation creep into her voice.
Choi checked his notes. “No.”
She frowned. “No?”
“Ms. Rubicon, about how long would you say that you were trapped? From when you first heard the alarm to when you got out?”
Lana considered. There was the alarm. The locked door. And then the convoluted work of smashing her way to freedom. It had felt like forever.