Chapter Twenty-Two
Wyatt parked his father’s Range Rover in front of the yellow caution tape and jumped out. Bile rose in his throat and his gut twisted. Twenty-four hours ago there’d been green vines bursting with ripe fruit as far as the eye could see. This morning… He bent and picked up a black, wrinkled sphere that clung lifelessly to a singed brown twig. Burned fences crumbled, and melted PVC drip irrigation lines jutted from the dry, cracked ground covered with a layer of dirty ash. What would be the permanent toll? He closed his eyes. He had no friggin’ idea.
He dragged a hand through his hair. Only now did the full impact of the devastation hit him. Last night darkness had masked much of the damage, but the massive destruction became clear in the light of day. More than ten acres lost. Over a third of the vineyard and smoke might have ruined what was left of the harvest. Instead of having the banner year he’d predicted, Leone Estates could produce nothing. He couldn’t fathom the financial impact on them if that happened.
His father came up beside him and placed a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. “Once the investigator is done we’ll need to get some samples to determine if the blaze altered the nutrients in the soil. We can’t replant until we do.”
If they replanted. He nodded as a tall man in full fire gear approached. Maybe he had some answers. “Inspector.” Wyatt extended his hand. “Have you found anything yet?”
“Callie, our sniffer canine, found traces of an accelerant in what’s left of the outbuilding.”
Arson. He’d been right. Son of a bitch. Wyatt clenched his hands, the force driving his nails into the rough skin of his palm. He didn’t care.
“We believe that’s the primary site, but we’ve got her checking the entire area for secondary zones. I’ve taken samples to see if we can identify the fuel.”
“The fire started in more than one spot?” David asked. “I assumed it started in the shed and the flames spread from there.”
“We don’t know how many points of origin existed at this time so we’re checking everything.”
Multiple ignition locations made sense given how fast the area went up in flames and the amount of land destroyed. “What about the sprinkler system?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Were you able to determine why it didn’t work?” He’d bet the damned vineyard it had been tampered with.
“Wires were cut.” The inspector slanted his gaze at him. “You were right about that. I want to talk to your staff. Ask if anyone remembers seeing someone come up here.”
His father nodded. “Not sure it will do any good. All the workers had gone home by the time the fire started.”
“Maybe, but I still want to speak to them. The only access to this area is through the main part of the vineyard. One of your employees may have seen someone head up this way. I—” He broke off and reached for his phone. “Excuse me a moment. I need to take this.”
The inspector stepped away. Wyatt blew out a breath and paced back and forth while they waited. This had to be Bryce and Sam’s doing. Nothing else made sense. They wanted Leone Estates. No damned way. They could burn the place to the ground and they still wouldn’t get him and his father to sell.
The inspector approached, a troubled expression on his face. “Callie found accelerant in two other areas heading north, and one just over the property line.”
Scott Hill. Where someone could access the north rim of Leone Estates undetected.
Fucking Beaumont was up to something all right.
#
Maddie knelt beside the file cabinet in Gramps’s home office. She crossed her fingers and sent up a silent prayer that this last drawer would have the information she was looking for. Four hours of poring over Gramps’s papers, trying to make sense of what he’d said at the hospital this morning. Thus far she’d come up empty-handed. Of course, it would help to know what she was looking for. Going at it blind was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Or maybe he’d been hallucinating and there wasn’t anything here? Still, the insistent, frightened tone of his voice made her believe there was something to his ramblings.
Jacob started to fuss. She shifted her gaze to where he sat on the soft quilt surrounded by toys. “What’s wrong, little one? You can’t be hungry. I just fed you an hour ago.” She stopped rifling through the files and walked over, lifted him into her arms, and placed a kiss on his black curls atop his head. He chortled, and she laughed. “Ah, now I understand. You’re frustrated sitting here and want some attention from Mama.” She couldn’t blame him. She was getting aggravated herself.
Maddie placed Jacob on her lap and held him with one hand. She tugged the drawer open with the other. A quick check showed similar files here as in the trays above. She pulled out the folder marked “Finances” and leafed through it. A thick, unmarked manila envelope sat among the various bills and invoices. Maddie grabbed it from the pile and unsealed it. Receipts tumbled out when she dumped the contents on the floor along with a folded sheet of paper.
She picked up the sheet and opened it. Her fingers trembled. “Harold R. Beaumont. Holy cow.” Why had Gramps borrowed two million dollars from Bryce’s grandfather? She checked the issue date. Twenty-five years ago. What did Gramps need the money for? Had there been problems with… “The vineyard.” She checked the date again. “Oh my God, Jacob. Gramps borrowed money from Harry Beaumont to buy Scott Hill.”
Still, the promissory note was stamped “paid in full” and carried Harry’s signature. So why did Gramps believe he could lose the winery? And what did any of this have to do with someone who died, but Gramps didn’t murder?