Free Little Girl Gone by Brett Battles

no manslaughter charge,” Logan said, fighting hard to keep his cool. “And, ‘B,’ the embezzlement accusation was false. That’s why the case got dropped before it ever went anywhere. Again, none of this has anything to do with your fire.”
    “Did you know your file’s flagged?” he asked.
    Logan didn’t know he had a file, at least not one that could be accessed by the LAPD. He remained silent.
    “Says if your name comes up in connection with any unlawful activities, a Special Agent James Hall is supposed to be contacted. Are you familiar with him?”
    Logan was pretty sure his blank expression cracked just a little bit. He was familiar with Special Agent Hall all right, but it had been a while since he’d heard the name. Again, he said nothing.
    “Naturally, I had to give him a call. He says you’re a sneaky bastard. Says the only reason you weren’t brought up on manslaughter charges was because they were unable to locate some key evidence. I asked him if he thought you’d be capable of burning down a house. Know what he said?”
    Logan continued to stare at the detective.
    “He said, yes, you’d be capable, but that you’d need a really good reason to do it. And that you wouldn’t be so sloppy as to return to check things out the next morning.”
    That was a surprise. Special Agent Hall was far from Logan’s favorite person on the planet, and Logan was far from his. Hall had been the man in charge of the investigation after accusations that Logan might have been responsible for Carl’s death began circulating. Hall had made it very clear he thought that Logan was guilty, to hell with the fact there was no evidence and, therefore, never even a trial. For the first six months after Logan had begun his self-imposed exile in Cambria, Hall would call each week to let him know he was still out there, and to remind Logan that if he made a mistake, Hall would be all over him.
    Logan had been sure the agent had forgotten him by now. Apparently not.
    But Hall saying something that might make the police believe Logan? Definitely a surprise.
    Detective Baker leafed through the papers, then looked at Logan again. “One of my colleagues also had a conversation with your friend Mr. Myat. He showed up with a man who says he’s your father about twenty minutes ago. Lucky for you, he confirmed what you told me. But that still doesn’t give you a solid alibi for around the time the fire started. And if you think for one moment I’m going to blindly believe what some FBI agent says about you, you’re mistaken.”
    The detective’s frustration was showing. At first he must have thought he’d hit the jackpot, and had reeled in the arsonist without having to do any legwork. But then it turned out that Logan wasn’t as golden a suspect as he had at the start. A few seconds later the detective said, “I need you to stay in town until I tell you it’s all right to leave.”
    Fifteen minutes later, Logan walked into the lobby, and found his father pacing back and forth near the front desk. The moment Harp saw his son he rushed over.
    “You all right?” he asked as if Logan had been locked up in a KGB torture cell for the past month.
    “Yeah, I’m fine.” Logan looked around. “Where’s everyone else?”
    “Outside. Tooney wanted some air.”
    “Let’s go, then. I need to talk to both of you.”
    Instead of moving, his dad stared at Logan’s face. “Did they hurt you?”
    “No, of course not.”
    “But…” He reached up and pointed at Logan’s cheek. “What’s that?”
    Having no idea what he was talking about, Logan raised his hand and touched the spot. It was rough, and stung slightly when his finger brushed against it. “Just a scrape, Dad.”
    “They did this to you?”
    “Technically,” Logan said, remembering being knocked to the ground on the boardwalk. “But it wasn’t on purpose.”
    “Wasn’t on purpose? When we get home, the first call we make is to Lloyd Falon.” Lloyd was his