Diana (19 page)

She glanced at the clock. “We have a little more time before I need to get moving. I think it would be wise if you left before sunrise. Just in case."

Luke glanced at the clock, then back at Diana. “Thirty minutes? No problem."

He covered her lips with his own. He reached down, caressing her inner thigh.

She smiled. “Thirty minutes, nothing more."

[Back to Table of Contents]

Luke left Diana's and came back to his condominium complex. There, he got the shock of his life. Upon opening his front door, a multitude of undercover police officers, agents, and other officials from the FDNY arson's unit surrounded him.

"Luke Fontella, we have a warrant to search the premises."

He was speechless. His fellow comrades, with assistance from the other organizations, plunged through his home. He knew what they were after. Solid evidence to prove he was the serial arsonist.

He leaned against the counter in his kitchen, next to his home office. He'd given the FDNY eighteen years of his life, and this was how they treated him. No one wanted to represent him, help prove his innocence. Instead, guys he'd known most of his career stared at him, obviously convicting him guilty as charged.

His boss, the commander of the arson unit, Damian Toby, joined him in the kitchen.

Luke glanced into Damian's eyes. He was unsure if he could handle any more verbal assaults at the moment.

"I'm sorry about this, Luke, truly sorry."

Damian placed his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the adjacent counter. He sighed.

"Sure you are.” Luke turned his face away to look at the two patrol officers who stood guard.

"No, I really am sorry. I don't believe this is happening."

"Well, it is. As far as I can see, I'm completely on my own."

Damian was silent at his comment.

Luke exhaled in frustration. This unspoken validation from his boss told him he was truly on his own.

"My hands are tied, Luke. Just cooperate and everything should turn out fine."

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one being accused of arson and murder."

Damian remained silent until Detective Horan re-entered the room. He was the detective present during the interrogation, along with Diana.

Luke wondered where Diana was. Why wouldn't she be present? Unless his father had removed her from the case. It was a possibility. He struggled with relief and disappointment. She'd be safer being less involved. But as lead investigator, she would do her best to prove his innocence.

"Fontella.” Horan nodded, acknowledging Luke's presence.

"Detective Horan. Welcome to my home."

The detective gave him a dirty look, then glanced at Damian. “You're wanted in the other room."

Luke sighed just as Vince Porter, another investigator in the arson unit, entered the room.

He directed his comment toward Luke, but looked at the two patrol officers for validation. “Got a lot of shit in your garage, considering you don't fight fires anymore."

Luke gave him a dirty look. Vince Porter was a troublemaker. He was known in the department for having a big mouth and a drinking problem. The word was Porter stole a fire truck while under the influence, and the chief of his department covered it up. He was transferred to officer training, then a desk job in the arson unit.

"What are you doing here anyway, Porter? You're not really part of the unit."

"Like you are? You're a freaking arsonist and a killer. I want to be here when they arrest your ass."

Luke stood straighter. The two cops took position as if prepared to intervene if a fight broke out.

Porter looked at him. Luke was confident, not only because he was larger and in better shape, but because he also had a good six inches on Porter. He was sure the angry expression on his face was a good indicator not to mess with him.

"Why don't you get the hell out of here, Porter? You don't belong here."

"It's you who doesn't belong."

Luke took a step closer.

"Fontella!” Damian yelled, as he re-entered the kitchen.

"Porter, get your ass out of here.” Damian pointed his finger at the exit.

Porter raised his hands in the air, then exited the kitchen, but not before smirking at Luke and giving him a wink.

"Asshole.” Luke glanced at his boss.

"They're wrapping things up."

"Good for them."

His phone rang, and he glanced down to read the Caller I.D. He ignored it, knowing it wouldn't be smart to answer a call from Detective Pellino right now.

He realized he didn't have his cell phone on him.
Where the hell did I leave it?

The detectives had cleared out of the office, so they wouldn't glance down at the Caller ID to see who called. At least, he hoped. Now, he prayed Diana didn't leave him a message on his answering machine.

Diana closed up her cell phone, just as the answering machine picked up. She was probably too late to warn Luke about the search warrant. To top it off, Jake had spoken with Detective Horan, informing him about the lab findings and the extrication gloves. She knew that once the detectives entered Luke's home, they would find the firefighting gear and make their own conclusions.

This was exactly how Luke wanted things to go down, but not Diana. They were cutting time close, and she needed the real killer to make another move. If Luke wound up in jail, charged with multiple counts of arson and murder, then the real killer would get away.

Her cell phone rang. She answered it.

"Diana, I've been trying to reach you. Did you hear about the warrant?"

"Yes, Commander, I heard. I take it that Detective Horan has been assigned as lead investigator?"

"Sorry, Diana, my hands are tied. The chief wanted it this way."

"I figured as much, sir. Does this mean that I'm off the case?” Her heart ached as the words left her lips.

"Officially ... yes."

"You know I don't believe that your son is a killer?"

"I know you don't. I don't believe it, either."

"You said officially I'm off the case. Should I just stay clear of Horan?"

"You've done a great job so far in this investigation. The chief didn't say you had to stop doing your job. He just wants to confirm that there's no favoritism toward my son."

"Don't worry, sir. I'll do my best. Have you heard from Luke?” She couldn't help but ask, considering she'd tried contacting him several times and failed.

"No, I haven't. It's nearly 5:00 p.m. I think it's safe to say that the gang has left his residence. I didn't hear anything about an arrest, so I'm assuming he's still there.” “Why don't you call him? I'm sure he could use the support right now."

She picked up on the commander's silence.

"I know it's none of my business, sir, but it's the tough times that really bring a family together and prove that the love is there."

"Thanks, Pellino. Keep me informed of your progress."

"Yes, sir."

Diana hung up the phone and sighed.

He sat at the computer, typing away. It was time to tie up loose ends. He logged on with the phony name and phony account, then altered the information.

Log In Name: L. Fontella

Password: Arson catcher

He laughed. How full of pride he was.
They're going to eat this up.

He changed all the other information on the account and had the messages go directly to Fontella's email.

Then he typed Fontella's suicide note:

I kill because I can. Fire has ruled my every thought, my every motivation and desire. I wasted twenty years of my life trying to save mostly the ungrateful, the losers, the trash of society. I've accomplished physical acts that many only fantasized about achieving. I will be remembered for serving justice, for conquering the every day rage you all wish to conquer, but didn't have the guts to do so.

I killed because they deserved to die. ‘Line Closed'—I'll never hear those words again.

The time has come for me to move on and serve a higher one. I won't allow you to use me for your lack of success in ridding the world of garbage. I won't be used as a scapegoat, an excuse to validate the existences of such unworthy individuals like those I've killed.

Others will follow, others will mimic my actions. Stewart Howard will be remembered for all time.

"Perfect, absolutely perfect.” He laughed quietly and clicked the
send
button.

Quickly, he gathered his belongings, glanced around the empty library, and headed to the door.

Luke located his cell phone and placed it on the kitchen counter. He drank the remainder of the iced tea in his glass, before the doorbell rang. Who it could be?

"Hi, son. Can I come in?"

Luke moved to the side, surprised that his dad was here. “What do you want?"

"I stopped by to see how you're doing."

"How the hell do you think I'm doing? Didn't your team give you the rundown?"

"My
team
is no longer involved with the case."

Luke swung around to look at his father. He was surprised by this news. Maybe that was why Diana had called him? He never did get in touch with her.

"That's too bad. I think I'll miss Detective Pellino's interrogation tactics."

"Don't start, Luke. She's the reason I'm here."

Luke wasn't sure where this conversation was headed. He and Diana were careful, very careful, to hide their relationship.

"What do you mean?"

His dad placed his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath. “Pellino is a good kid. She has a big heart, and she gave me some great advice.

You see, I know we have this thing between us, but you're my son, Luke ... and I love you. Now is a time you need your family's support."

"Dad—"

"No. Let me say this, please. I never cheated on your mom."

"Oh, come on. I don't want to hear this shit right now."

"No, damn it! You're going to listen."

Luke stopped talking and faced him.

"All these years, I never told you why I was never home at night and needed your aunt to care for you."

Luke gave him a disgusted look.

"I was working, son. I was working extra shifts at the station, doing security and whatever else I could grab. I was trying to pay for all the medical bills from your mom's illness. Damn it, Luke, I loved your mother with all my heart. I never cheated on her. I never went out with any other women while she was alive."

He was shocked. Still, he remembered the women coming to the door, offering baked foods and prepared dinners, flirting, touching his father's arm every chance they got.

As if reading his mind, his father continued, “I know you remember the women, and your aunt telling you I was out for the evening at a party or with friends. At the time, she thought she was telling you the right thing. She, we, didn't want you to know how bad things were, or that I couldn't afford to keep living in the house."

"I thought you sold the house because you wanted to forget about Mom."

"No, son. I couldn't hold a mortgage, not on my police salary. Not with all the medical bills. I had no choice but to sell it and move into the condo."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth before now? Do you realize how much time we've wasted?"

"I was stupid, son, stubborn and selfish. When your mother died, a part of me I died. It was just easier to let time pass and the memories bury themselves than to face sadness and the loss. In the process, I lost myself and I lost you."

Luke rubbed his eyes. He felt tired and drained. “What made you come here tonight?"

"Multiple reasons. I wanted you to know that I'm here for you. That I don't believe you're the arsonist or the killer. I didn't want you to feel alone."

Luke let the conversation sink in. They were both men, neither showing emotions nor sensitivity, just like a lot of men did.

His dad touched his arm. “How about a cup of coffee?"

Luke was grateful for the suggestion.

"No problem."

They headed into the kitchen.

Luke's cell phone beeped.

"What's that sound?"

"My email alert. I'll check it in a minute.” He headed toward the coffee maker.

His dad's cell rang, just as Luke finished setting up the coffee. He answered, while Luke checked his email messages.

Meet me at 8:00 p.m. at the location below. Hurry!

He glanced at the clock. Who could it be? He had twenty minutes to figure out the location and get there.

He typed the address into the map search.

"Luke ... they're on their way."

He didn't look up at his dad. He focused on the message.

"Luke! Did you hear me, son? They're on their way."

"Who?"

"The detectives."

He stared at his dad. “Why?"

"They claim they have enough to bring you in and question you again. Something about extrication gloves."

"Who called you?"

"Jerry Montoff."

"Diana's partner?"

"Yes. He wanted to give me the heads up."

"Does he know you're here?"

"No one knows I'm here."

"How much time do I have?"

"I don't know. They're probably halfway here by now. Why?"

"I just got this message."

He showed his father the email.

"You're not going."

"Yeah, I am."

"Luke, what if that's from the real killer and it's some sort of trap?"

"Good. Then we can solve this thing."

"I have a better idea. Stay here. Have them arrest you. You don't show up at the meeting and he can't frame you."

"I don't even know if it's him who sent the message.” Luke couldn't help but think about Diana. If it were her, she would've let him know somehow.

The doorbell rang. He and his father exchanged glances.

Paul walked to the window and door. He saw the patrol cars outside. “They're here."

He grabbed his cell phone off the counter and placed it into a jar. He had no choice but to follow his dad's advice.

Another message beeped on the phone, indicating an email alert. It was too late to take a look and see whom it was from. The officers were headed toward the kitchen.