Diana (8 page)

Things only appeared to get worse as the party continued. Apparently, numerous people witnessed the confrontation between Luke and his father, with her in the middle, and they were drawing their own conclusions. Worst of all, Leslie Spencer, the daughter of Chief Spencer, the chief of their department, had the nerve to question Diana about the argument. Diana denied that any argument took place, and told Leslie that she was just an innocent bystander who had no idea what was happening.

She knew Leslie's reputation. Her goal in life was to land a cop for a husband, but her obnoxious, stuck up attitude turned most guys off. She was a troublemaker and had always been one. She cringed at the thought Leslie would start some sort of ridiculous rumor, and prayed that nothing more came up about it.

She couldn't help but think about Luke. He was a very attractive man. He towered over her even though she wore heels, which probably made her stand about 5 ft 8 in.

He was much larger than his dad, and appeared to have a body of steel. She could only imagine what he looked like in his firefighting uniform, turnout coat, and suspenders. Heat reached her cheeks and her belly tingled. What woman wouldn't be attracted to such a hunk of a man? She was human after all.

Diana smiled for a moment. Naughty thoughts about the commander's son would surely bring trouble. Wasn't she in enough trouble already? God only knew what Leslie Spencer was conjuring up as she spoke on her cell phone.

She gazed in Leslie's direction. Her gut warned her of approaching trouble. She swallowed hard, then searched for her mother. Time to get the hell out of here before matters got worse.

Lee entered her apartment. It was late in the evening and the place was pitch black. She flipped the switch by the front door, which usually activated the light in the living room. Tonight, nothing happened.

"Damn it! Stew, you friggen idiot. We paid the damn electric bill."

She stumbled through the darkness and into her bedroom. The landlord was an old jerk who continuously confused Lee and her roommate Janelle with the two girls who lived across the hall. There was no resemblance whatsoever, yet the old fool confused the four women. Now she had to suffer for his ignorance.

She was so damn tired and annoyed from having to work double the hours, until management hired a replacement for Barbara. Lee walked toward the blinds in the bedroom. They were closed tight, and she didn't recall closing them before she left for work this morning.

Without giving it a second thought, she walked closer and grabbed the chord. She bumped into the rocking chair. The squeaking sound of the wooden rockers sliding back and forth against the floors gave her an eerie feeling. She let go of the pull chord to grab the arm of the rocking chair. The squeaking sound stopped, replaced by pure silence.

A tingling sensation spread across her shoulders, down her back, under her skin. She heard her own breathing, the slight whisper of traffic outside, three stories below her apartment. She had to strain to hear and, in doing so, she closed her eyes. A sound similar to that of a match striking against its cardboard holder made her open them quickly.

A man stood in her bedroom, holding some sort of candlestick with a lit candle in it.

The surprise sent her two steps back, causing her to fall against the rocking chair. Lee screamed out then stood still, in shock at the sight. This was the man who killed Barbara. It was the man from the store. She'd seen him there numerous times and now he was going to kill her?.

She attempted an escape, but her attacker grabbed a strong hold of her hair, sending her flying backward and off her feet.

"No. Please. Why me?” Her voice quivered.

"Why not?” He stepped closer to her, grabbing her by the throat and moving the flame closer to her face.

"Please. Please don't do this. My family, my..."

He gripped her throat tighter, stopping her ability to breath. “No one will miss you. No one will care."

The words hit her soul as her feet lifted off the floor. She struggled, trying to fight against the killer, but it was no use. His strength, his grip, was too powerful. She struggled for air, knowing she had seconds to live, regretting her life, her past, and everything, as memories flashed through her mind

He felt the power in his hand, his wrists, forearms, and chest, right through the special material of the gloves. His heart barely beat. He was calm, his mind and ability to reason blocked by numbness. With one hand, he still held the lifeless body. Then, he pushed it toward the chair. He stared at his hand a moment, as the flame turned into sparks, continuing to burn.

He was amazing, his hands and his strength, stronger than they'd ever been.

It was his mission, his motivation to rid his world of the worthless clutter. He glided his hand against his cheek, down his neck, then to his chest. God had given him this gift, had provided these hands, his ability to work against evil.

He looked back at the body, knowing exactly how to honor this kill. He would make the news tonight, and he would continue to rid his world of the clutter. The wasted space occupied by the lowlifes of society would be cleaned. This was his town, his neighborhood, and he knew exactly how things went down.

Confidently, he set up the room, then laid the flammable object in its place. It would take a matter of five minutes or so before the fire spread through the room. It was a slow way to ignite the place, but gave him just enough time to make the call.

He would be famous, he would be honored, and he would be praised a hero for eliminating the garbage.

"Justice is served."

Smiling, he exited the apartment and made the call.

Diana and Jerry raced to the scene. They were in the area, and surprised to find out the apartment where the fire started was the home of another clerk from the department store. Diana's heart thumped hard as Jerry pulled up onto the scene. The fire had engulfed half of the apartment complex, and residents swarmed to safety a block away, just watching their homes being destroyed.

She noticed the fire engine company, and the fact her brother Brian and cousin Don worked with that particular ladder company.

The firefighters had control over the flames.

"Chief!” she called out, nodding hello to Chief Watkins.

"Hey, Pellino. Looking good.” He winked and she smiled, shaking his hand. “It's going to be a while before you can get in there. One body so far, and it looks to be where the fire started. The fire marshal is already on the scene."

"Good. Who do we got?” She scanned the area, looking for Henry Simpson or Brad Wamsley. Neither arson investigators were there.

"That would be me, Detective Pellino.” She turned toward the deep voice, drawn to the appealing smile and large bulky figure.

"Luke Fontella. Paul's son, but you know that already, don't you, doll?"

He eyed her with obvious smugness. Her defenses went up, and she felt embarrassed. She remembered the fierce confrontation between Luke and his father, her commander, and how she was somehow caught in the middle.

"You two know one another?” the chief asked.

"Kind of. I'll head in.” Luke turned his back to her and spoke with the chief.

Jerry gazed at Diana and squinted as if saying, “Who the hell is this guy?"

"Let's talk to the first responders and see what they got.” She kept her attention on Luke.

He stood there, looking authoritative, and as if he were in complete control. The navy blue windbreaker he wore told everyone who he was. The large bold white title ‘FDNY Fire Marshal’ was posted across the back. The jacket lay tight across his wide, muscular shoulders and back, and loose against his trim waist, with the corner zipper and edges just blowing in the wind.

While he ran a hand through his brown, wavy locks as he spoke with the chief, he glanced at her. She realized she must have been staring.

He continued to watch her as she walked away. She caught him gazing at her a moment, then he turned toward the fire. Was he actually giving her dirty looks? What the hell was his problem, anyway? It was she who should be angry and annoyed. Now, she was in the middle of some awkward family dispute, and it wasn't even her own family. For God's sake, it was her commander.

The sick feeling re-entered her belly. She needed this aggravation like she needed a hole in her head.

She refocused on her homicide case and the scene. The fire was nearly extinguished and firefighters began to exit the building.

As soon as the ‘pleasant’ fire marshal gave the okay that the structure was safe, she and Jerry could enter the building along with the crime scene unit.

The technicians took pictures, and forensics collected anything and everything they could get, even though the fire did major damage.

Diana stood close to the charred remains of their victim, hating the stench but handling it. This wasn't her first fire related homicide investigation. She'd seen plenty over the years and hated them the most.

"Hey, Chester, you see this?” she asked one of the technicians. He was still taking pictures and collecting evidence.

"That could be where the fire started. You may want to leave that there, so that I can do my job.” Luke's stern tone interrupted the conversation.

Diana gazed up at him.

She ignored his comment and looked back at the technician.

"I got it, Detective,” the technician said.

Luke stood there along with two other firefighters. They looked like a set of bulldogs waiting to attack.

"Hey, Pellino, you finished yet?” he snapped at her, as if she didn't belong there.

The anger slowly simmered in her gut. She ignored him and took a closer look at where she thought the fire may have started. After all, she knew a bit about fires from her brother and other close family members.

"What do you think, Pellino? Maybe our guy set the fire here while the victim lay injured a few feet away,” Jerry said.

"It's hard to say, but if you look at the position of the body and the way her head is tilted back, toward the window and wall, she may have tried to move away from the fire. But, other injuries stopped her. Once we know the cause of death and the injuries, we'll know more.

"Let's get a sample of this charred residue and have forensics run it. It looks to be the source of the fire.” She continued to survey the surrounding area. The direction of the fire left patterns indicating, to an expert, the route the fire took.

"Pellino, maybe you'd like to keep the arson investigation to us professionals,” Luke snapped at her again

This time, others took notice, and appeared to be on her side. She moved closer to Luke, being sure to whisper and not make a scene. He wasn't acting very professional, and this was a homicide investigation. They needed each other's help.

She gazed into his eyes. They were the color of the ocean. Her heart pumped hard.

"Listen, Fontella,” she emphasized each syllable of his name, hoping the sarcasm was clear, “I don't know what your problem is, but we have a murder victim on our hands, and we need to work together on this. So cut the shit and start acting professional.” She started to walk away, ignoring the mumbling behind her.

What was his damn problem? She wasn't interested in his father, despite his accusations.

"This dwelling is a bit unstable. You may want to move things along,” one of Luke's assistants said, with a smirk.

Diana walked closer to the three men.

"Preservation of the crime scene is first priority. Why don't you wait outside? We'll call you when we're ready for ya.” She walked away before they could respond.

Luke tried his hardest to focus on the crime scene. Charred human flesh never sat right with him, not even when it was the bad guy's charred flesh. He had a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach and he knew where it stemmed from. Detective Diana Pellino.

She was a piece of work. He sighed as he collected bits of some kind of substance that sat on the floor of the bedroom. She was a piece, all right. She was gorgeous, sexy as hell, and damn tough. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Pellino was trouble. The nerve of her, telling him to get his shit together and act professional. Who the hell was she, anyway?
Like sleeping with your commander is acting professional.

The anger filled him to his core. His father had great taste in women, but Diana was too young for him. The guilt suddenly felt more like jealousy.

Pellino questioned the firefighters on the scene. She batted her eyelashes, joked around with them, and they ate it up.

Again, he tried to shake the thoughts and focus on the task at hand.

To Luke, it didn't appear that any accelerant was used to start the fire, which meant that there had to be another source. He glanced toward the charred remains, then the small dust pile on the floor, adjacent to where the bed once sat. He needed to find out what the substance was, just as Pellino had stated. Maybe the detective knew a thing or two about arson investigating from her family background.

"Hey, Fontella, you get a load of this?” One of the technicians looked out the charred window that was once Lee's apartment.

Luke walked to the window and peeked outside. He was shocked. There was a media frenzy out there, with camera crews, reporters, and a huge crowd of onlookers. More police approached the scene while others began putting up barriers.

"Holy shit!"

"My thoughts exactly.” Diana re-entered the room with Jerry alongside her.

Luke looked over his shoulder and sighed, then turned away from her. “No one says a word about this investigation. No interviews, gorgeous."

His comment obviously angered her. Her lovely cheeks went flush, and her hands turned into fists by her side.

"I'll wrap things up and let the coroner finish. Tell him we'll meet downtown later today. With the media on the story, they'll be sure to want answers fast."

"Don't we all?” Jerry said.

"I would hope so.” Luke gazed at Diana every chance he got. He just couldn't help himself.