I saw this coming, was all Casey could think.
He was rooted to the spot, unable to move. He’d seen all of this, months ago. He’d gotten the clues wrong and ignored the ones that counted. If he’d had his head on straight, he might’ve stopped all this. Maybe saved a life.
God-fucking-damn it, why the fuck had he been given this so-called gift, of all people? Why some flighty, self-interested criminal, of all the decent—
“Case!”
He turned, finding Vince running toward him.
“Where’s Miah?” his brother demanded.
“Helping move the horses.”
Vince’s shoulders dropped in obvious relief, though his face said it all—the circumstances of the fire hadn’t been lost on him. He’d probably remembered those words the second he heard there was a fire at Three C, in the middle of the eclipse.
“All I could think was, fucking starless night,” his brother panted, recovering from his sprint from the parking lot or the house.
“It wasn’t Miah,” Casey said quietly. “But it might’ve been Don.”
Vince’s heaving chest went still in an instant. “Don?”
“He was supposed to be in there this afternoon. He told us himself. I think I saw it wrong, Vince—I thought it was Miah, but—”
“Where’s Christine?”
“I don’t know. She was calling nine-one-one, last I saw her. She was with the hands. I’m sure she’s fine.”
Vince’s head jerked to the side, and Casey looked in the same direction, to where Miah was being led toward the farmhouse by a couple officials. Vince made to follow his best friend, but Casey caught him by the elbow.
He spoke quickly, quietly. “I don’t think this was an accident, Vince.”
His brother eyed him. Casey took it for skepticism at first, until Vince said, “Tell me exactly why not.” Those five words spoke volumes, their message loud and clear. It sure as fuck doesn’t feel like one, but tell me precisely how you know.
Vince’s body had softened and Casey let his arm go. “The place didn’t just burst into a massive fireball,” he said. “It was a steady burn, no sudden explosions, and if Don started it by accident, he’d have noticed. Seen it happen, smelled it. He knew that barn better than anyone, and he would’ve tried to get to an exit. He wouldn’t have just fallen down right there. Even as smoky as it was, he’d have hit the ground and crawled for a door.”
Vince nodded, jaw set. He knew Casey wasn’t suggesting that Don had escaped.
“If he is in there . . .” Casey already knew, in his gut, he was. He’d seen it months ago, after all, and his intuition had no doubts. “An autopsy’s gonna show that he died from something other than smoke inhalation. A blow, or a shot.” He hoped so, anyhow. If the man had subsequently been hit by a falling beam or a piece of the roof, it’d take a world-class arson investigator to spot any injuries he’d sustained before the fire began. Unless there was a bullet, that was.
“An autopsy might say this was foul play, but it’s not gonna tell us who did it.” Vince paused, studying him. “Could you?”
“I dunno. Maybe. Depends on how sloppy the guy was.”
“They’re gonna send a forensics team, no doubt.”
“No doubt,” Casey agreed. “For the insurance, if nothing else. But the lab work’ll take days, maybe weeks. And we don’t need proof this was no accident. We need to know who did it, and soon. Forensics will only give them a week’s head start.”
“Exactly. So what do you need?”
He gave Vince the side eye, wary. “What d’you mean?”
“I’m not stupid, Case. After that shit that went down in the mines, back in August, I knew what flavor of shady you turned into.” Casey had played no small part in uncovering some grisly corpse-disposal practices perpetrated by corrupt actors from the casino’s original contracting outfit. “What’s your scam, exactly? Arson?”
He looked away, but nodded. “Commercial shit. For a cut of the property owners’ claim money.”
“You ever get caught?”