"I'd say you were right." Solliday blew out a sigh. "Let's get this done."

Mr. Dougherty turned as they approached. "You're Lieutenant Solliday?"

"I am." He shook hands with the man, then his wife. "This is Detective Mitchell."

The couple exchanged a worried glance. "I don't understand," Dougherty said.

"I'm with the Homicide division," Mia said. "Caitlin Burnette was murdered before the fire was started in your house."

Mrs. Dougherty gave a strangled cry, her hand covering her mouth. "Oh God."

His face horrified, her husband put his arm around her. "Do her parents know?"

Mia nodded. "Yes. We informed them yesterday."

"We know this is a bad time," Solliday said. "But we have to ask some questions."

"Wait." Dougherty shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "You said the fire was started, Detective. This was arson?"

Solliday nodded. "We found incendiary devices in the kitchen and your bedroom."

Mr. Dougherty cleared his throat. "I know this sounds insensitive and please be sure we'll do everything in our power to help you… But what do we do now? Can we contact our insurance company? We don't have a place to live."

Beside him, Mrs Dougherty swallowed convulsively. "Was anything left?"

"Not much," Solliday answered. "Contact your insurance company. Just to prepare you, they'll be conducting an investigation."

Now Mr. Dougherty swallowed. "'Are we suspects?

"We'll rule you out as quickly as possible," Mia interjected calmly.

Mr. Dougherty nodded. "When can we go in to see what we can salvage?"

"Our wedding photos…" Mrs. Dougherty's voice broke and her eyes again filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I know Caitlin's… But, Joe… Everything's gone."

Dougherty rested his cheek on the top of his wife's head. "It'll be all right, Donna. We'll get through this, just like we got through everything else." He met Solliday's gaze. "I assume either you or the insurance company will be checking our financial records."

"That's standard practice," Solliday confirmed. "If you've got something to tell us, this is a good time, sir."

"We were sued five years ago. A customer fell in our hardware store." Dougherty's mouth twisted. "The jury found in favor of the plaintiff. We lost everything."

"It's taken us five years to dig our way out," Mrs. Dougherty said wearily.

"When my dad retired two years ago, he sold us his house, cheap." Bitterly he looked up at the ruins. "We were starting all over again. Took our first vacation in years. And now this. We had the minimum insurance on this place. Just enough to get a policy. There's no financial incentive for us to destroy our own home."

"Where do you work now, Mr. Dougherty?" Solliday asked

"At a home improvement superstore." Again his mouth twisted. "I'm in charge of nuts and bolts. My boss is a kid half my age. My wife is a secretary. She takes in sewing to make ends meet. We're not rich people, but we did not do this."

"Mr. Dougherty," Mia said quietly and the man met her eyes without flinching. "Can you think of anyone who'd have a grudge against you and your wife, specifically?"

"Besides the kook that sued us?" He shook his head. "No. We kept to ourselves."

"The neighbors said you changed all the locks on the doors," Solliday commented and Mia glanced up at him. His expression was calmly unreadable.

"Emily Richter," Mr. Dougherty bit out. "The biggest busybody. My parents always asked her to watch the house when they went away. I didn't want her in my house."

"She would have gone through ourthings," Mrs. Dougherty said. "And then told everyone about our finances. She was angry when we got the house at such a bargain."

Mia took out her notebook. "Who was the kook who sued you?"

Mr. Dougherty peered over the top of her notebook. "Reggie Fagin. Why?"

She smiled at him. "Just asking the questions. May save me some time later."

"You never told us when we can go into our house," Mr. Dougherty said.

"We'll get you back in as quickly as possible," Mia assured them without giving a real answer. They seemed like nice people, but she'd check them out, just the same. "Do you have any valuables you'd like us to hold in the meantime?"

"My wedding alburn," Mis. Dougherty said. "Other thai that, I can't think right now."

Mr. Dougherty's face changed, abruptly. "Um… We have a gun, upstairs in our nightstand drawer. It's registered," he added defensively.

Solliday looked surprised. "I didn't find any guns registered in your name."

Mia looked up at him, surprised herself that he'd checked.

"It's registered in my maiden name," Mrs. Dougherty said. "Lawrence. I bought it before we got married. It's just a.22, but I'd hate for it to fall in the wrong hands."

"Excuse us a minute," Mia said and motioned Solliday with her head.

He followed her, his jaw tight. "No, I didn't find a gun," he muttered before she could ask. "And I looked in that nightstand drawer."

"Shit. He could have brought his own gun and then found theirs."

"Or Caitlin could have found it when she was up there studying and he took it during the struggle. He may have come unarmed. We could be back to Caitlin as an accident. Wrong place, wrong time."

"This muddies everything," she grumbled. As one they turned back to the waiting couple. "We didn't find your gun," Mia said. "We'll report it stolen for you."

The couple looked at each other, then back, dread in their eyes. "Was Caitlin killed with our gun?" Mr. Dougherty asked heavily.

"We don't know," Solliday said. "Was it loaded?"

Numbly Mrs. Dougherty nodded. "I kept it loaded with the safety on. I never fired it except at the firing range, and that's been… years."

"Did you know a woman named Penny Hill?" Mia asked and both shook their heads.

"I'm sorry, that name doesn't ring any bells," Mr. Dougherty said. "Why?"

"Just asking the questions." Mia smiled again to calm them. "Might help me later."

"I'll see if I can find your wedding album. Anything else?" Solliday asked.

"I know this sounds horrible, what with Caitlin…" Mrs. Dougherty's were filled with a combination of anxiety and guilt. "My cat, Percy, was in the house. He's a white Persian. Did…" She drew a breath. "Did you find him?"

Sympathy flickered in Solliday's dark eyes. "No, ma'am, we didn't. If we do, we'll let you know. I'll be right back, Detective."

Mia turned back to the couple. "Where will you be staying?"

"For now, we're at the Beacon Inn." Mr. Dougherty's brief smile was entirely without mirth. "I guess we're not supposed to leave town."

"For now, it would be easier if I or the Lieutenant could contact you when we need you,'" Mia agreed neutrally. "Here's my card. Call me if you think of anything else."

"Detective." Mrs. Dougherty was tentative. "The Bur-nettes… Ellen is a friend of mine. How are they?"

"As well as you can expect under the circumstances."

"I can't even imagine," she murmured.

They were silent then, waiting for Solliday's return. Minutes passed and Mia frowned. He should have been back by now. He'd stressed how dangerous the compromised structure was, but she'd heard nothing to indicate the roof had fallen in on his head. Still… "Excuse me," she said. Halfway up the driveway she stopped, her eyes widening as Solliday appeared from around the back. "What the hell is that?"

Solliday grimaced at the filthy bundle he held at arms' length. "Somewhere under all this dirt is a white Persian. He was curled up against the back door in the mud."

Mia grinned up at him. He seemed so disgusted. "That's so nice of you."

"No. I'm mean. Hateful. Take it. He stinks."

"No way." She laughed. "I'm allergic to dirty cats."

"My shoes are dirty," he complained and she laughed again.