“He’s digging into Clarke’s and your pasts.”
Elijah frowned. “I gathered as much. Why?”
“He’s doing a podcast, he says. He wants the world to know your story.”
He looked amused. “Who on the planet doesn’t?”
“Apparently, the bare facts aren’t enough. He wants a blow by blow.”
“Why do you care, Ann? I’ve heard you’ve become pretty expert at dodging guys like him.”
“This one is talking to your Fireflies.”
“I’m sure they all have a story to tell. They crave fame. It’s one of the unhealthy reasons why they were attached to me.”
“When’s the last time you were in contact with Sarah Cameron?” she asked.
“She was from Tennessee, as I remember.”
A sense of vindication rushed her. His simple answer had validated her working theory about the victims. “So, she was a Firefly?”
He arched a brow. “That’s why you’re asking about her, right?”
“What about Dana Riley? Did she contact you lately?”
“Dana?” He seemed to riffle quickly through his memory. “Tall, light-brown hair. Looked a little like you, though not as smart.”
Dana had also been a Firefly. “Have you communicated with her lately?”
“No. I haven’t connected with any of my Fireflies since I was released from prison.”
“None tried to track you down?”
His head cocked. “Why is that any of your business?”
“I’m looking for Dana,” she lied.
“Why? Is she bothering you?” he asked carefully.
“No, I’m trying to find her.” She had not come prepared with a better lie and realized she could quickly back herself into a corner. Elijah had always been perceptive, and ten years in prison had honed that radar.
He slowly shook his head as his eyes narrowed. He did not believe her, but for whatever reason, he played along. “The final letter I had from Dana was almost a year ago. She was one of my most prolific correspondents. I think one hundred and two letters from her, if I remember. She was funny, moderately smart, and a welcome distraction.”
“Are there any other Fireflies in the area?”
“Why the sudden interest in the Fireflies? Who cares if Thompson talks to them? His story will soon be forgotten. Unless you’re jealous.”
She ignored the suggestion. “Did you ever talk to your Fireflies about me?”
“I might have mentioned you.” A smile teased the edges of his lips. “I was pretty angry with you after the trial.”
“Who else did you tell about me?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You have a photographic memory.”
“Then I guess I do remember. But I’m not going to tell all my secrets until you tell me yours.”
She ran her fingers through her hair. “This was a mistake. I should not be talking to you.”
As she turned to leave, he said, “There was a homicide near town on Tuesday. I hear the body was burned.” He studied her face closely. “Is the victim Dana?”
“No, it wasn’t Dana.”
“There was also a homicide in Helena in July. I hear that body was also burned. Was that one Dana?”
“How do you know this?”
“Once you’ve been branded an arsonist, you make damn sure you have an alibi when there’s a fire within a two-hundred-mile radius. And for the record, I have alibis for both dates. You can tell the cops. They’re welcome to check.” His eyes narrowed again. “I know the Montana victims weren’t Sarah Cameron. Her death was widely reported in the Knoxville media in June.”
“You knew about Sarah.”
A slight roll of his shoulders hinted at his discomfort. “I don’t know anything about her death, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
She had taken a risk coming here, but it had paid off. At least two victims were Fireflies. The warden’s list of Fireflies would now be a critical predictor of future victims.
“I didn’t kill those women, Ann,” he said clearly. “And I can prove it.”
“Who else would want Fireflies dead?”
“I don’t know.”
For the first time, she sensed he was off balance slightly. “Maybe you’re cleaning up loose ends.”
He stepped toward her, using the close proximity of his body to threaten. “Be careful. You’re accusing me of murder.”
“If you have alibis, then you have nothing to worry about.”
A bitter smile twisted his lips. “I’ve been through the criminal justice system, and I know truth doesn’t always matter.”
“Again, who would kill these women?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Then we’re done here.” She turned to leave.
“How’s Nate?” Elijah asked in a clear, direct tone. “Is he back from his camping trip yet?”
She froze and scrambled to maintain her calm. She faced him, deciding not to question his sources. He had a talent for knowing things. “He’s fine.”
“He’s not the real outdoor type, is he?”
“He loves spending time with his cousin and uncle.”
“And Joan is along for the ride.” Even, white teeth flashed. “Joan fly-fishing has to be a sight to behold.”
She started walking toward her car.
“I’m glad Nate’s been able to get away,” he added as he followed her. “This town reared its ugly judgmental side after Clarke’s death. Odd that people blame the victims. I suppose it’s easier to find fault with them than to believe something bad like that could happen to us.”
People had shied away from Nate and her because they were afraid. How many of them had looked at their own spouses and wondered whether they knew the real truth? But to utter any words of agreement created a bridge of understanding. And if anything she wanted to sever all connections between them.
“You’ve never apologized to me, you know,” he said. “Of course, you didn’t know the real truth behind the College Fire, but I lost ten years in prison in part because of the testimony you gave in court.”
She reached the driver’s-side door, knowing there was nothing she could say to counter that.
He approached the car, staring at her over the roof. “Do you know how much the world changes in ten years, Ann? You were pregnant with Nate when I went away. And now look at him.”
She had thought she could control this but now realized her presence had stoked his deep-seated anger. “He’s trying to get on with his life. He’s happy.”
“I didn’t have a father when I was growing up, and it was hard. Is he struggling without his father?”
“We’re managing.”
“Oh, I know you’re doing fine without Clarke, but a boy only has one father.”
His tone poked at the secret tightly wound in her heart. She reached for the door handle.
In a voice only she could hear, Elijah said, “I know the truth.”
She looked into his stark features. “You don’t know anything.”
“I do.” Slowly, he came around the car until they stood less than a foot apart. “And soon I’m going to prove that Nate is my son.”