Fire Angel (6 page)

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said.

Startled, Alexis stalled. She couldn't very well tell him that she was thinking of having his babies, now could she?

“You can see so many stars here; at home, even though I don't live right in San Francisco, you never see this many, nor are they this bright. When I'm on a case, I try to get away for a few hours here and there to enjoy the scenery and get my thoughts organized. I have some awesome pictures on the walls at home.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I never tire of admiring something beautiful,” Jake replied, but he was looking at her, not at the sky. She blushed.

“I saw incredible skies and all kinds of shooting stars when I was deployed. It's at times like these that I remember all the things I can't do anymore, but there are still a lot of things to enjoy.”

Alexis smiled, about to ask him why he could no longer do certain things when she realized how dark the walkway to her cabin was. She stopped and stared.

“Here we are,” announced Jake halting beside her. “You really should have turned on the outside light before you left. I know everyone wants to conserve energy, but this isn't San Francisco — no streetlights. It's dark out here, and you could easily trip and hurt yourself.” He flipped the switch on the small LED flashlight he took out of his pocket.

Alexis'ss heart had tripled the pace of its beating as they approached the cabin. Her breathing became shallow. The yellow bug light that had glowed so brightly when she had locked the door was dark.

“I did turn it on,” she whispered. “I know I did.”

The trembling in her voice told Jake that something was wrong; she was terrified. He took the key from her shaking hand.

“Maybe the bulb burned out while you were at dinner,” he said in his most comforting tone.

Jake inserted the key into the lock, turned it, and opened the door. Like the outside, the inside of the cabin was in darkness, except for the faint glow from the fireplace's pilot light. Alexis gripped his hand tightly, her body seeming to need human comfort in her fear. He reached simultaneously for the outdoor and indoor light switches, and light shattered the darkness.

“Well, it isn't burned out,” he stated calmly. “What's the matter?” he asked noting how erratic her breathing had become. Instead of abating, her fear had increased.

“It was yellow, now it's white; someone changed the bulb. Someone has been in here, Jake; I left the lights on, I know I did.” She trembled.

Jake could see barely suppressed panic on her face. “I believe you.” He disengaged his hand from hers. “I'll check the cabin.”

He turned on the lamp near the sofa; nothing seemed out of place. Her computer bag was still on the desk, and the gift basket sat on the coffee table. He turned on the ceiling light in the kitchenette, and then moved into the bedroom and turned on the bedside lamp.

“I think I know what happened,” he called coming out of the bedroom with a small chrome tray in his hands.

“Minette came over while you were at dinner and turned down the bed; she probably turned off the lights to save power. No matter how often I remind her to leave at least one light on, she rarely does. “They can turn them on when they come back in” is her motto. I'll bet she replaced the outside bulb too. A yellow bug light would have been an old one. She probably replaced it with a high efficiency white one — we keep them in the supply cupboard under the sink.” He smiled encouragingly.

“She carries a powerful LED lantern and most likely, she forgot to turn the outside light on again. I'd forgotten that she'd be in to turn down your room. I should have told you that. I'll speak to her as soon as I get back; she won't turn your lights off again, I promise.”

He watched Alexis closely as her body showed signs of relaxing, but she went into the bedroom to see for herself that the moss green bedspread had been folded back to the foot of the bed exposing beige sheets, blankets, and two pillows. When she returned to the living room apparently satisfied, she removed her coat and hung it on one of the wooden pegs attached to the cabin wall. She set her umbrella on the shelf above the pegs, and put the flashlight on top of the desk.

“I'm sorry to be such a baby, but the note rattled me. I know grown women aren't supposed to be afraid of the dark, but I am. Thanks for being here.”

She walked over to the fireplace, turned on the fan, and adjusted the thermostat. She moved to the entrance to the kitchenette. “Can I get you something?”

“Sure, I'll have a beer.” He sat in the recliner and leaned back slightly. He didn't want to leave yet, and they had to discuss the note. What he really wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her, but he didn't think she was ready for that.

Alexis took his coat and hung it beside hers. She watched the dog smell every inch of the cabin, before Maya settled under the coffee table near his chair. She handed him a bottle of beer and a glass.

“So,” he said looking for something to break the ice. “I don't remember you being afraid of the dark; if you had been, James would have used that ammunition to torture you mercilessly.”

“It's a little thing I picked up last spring.” She tried to keep her voice light, but Jake clued in on the stress just under the surface. He decided to let it go for now.

“Hey,” he countered, reaching up to take her hand. “No big deal; I can afford a few extra bucks in hydro expenses.” Might as well get the nastiness out of the way, then he hoped she would be able to settle down for the night. He reluctantly let go of her hand when she moved over to sit on the couch, close to him, but not close enough to touch.

“Whoever wrote that note seems to know you. Tell me about your drive here,” he said. “What's this about a moose?”

“That monster came out of the fog and I almost hit him, but I swear there wasn't another car on the road either ahead of me or behind. I can't imagine how he knew about that. That's what has me spooked; I didn't have a clue I was being watched.”

“My guess would be that he followed you using the logging road that runs parallel to the highway, but that means he knew when you were coming, and I don't believe that was public knowledge. Either he has someone on the inside feeding him information, or we have a serious leak, and unfortunately, if that's the case, I know exactly who it may be.”

She waved the note in the air. “How do I handle this? I can't ignore it, but I'm not leaving either.”

“If we assume the arsonist wrote that note, someone who knows you set those fires. You need to be careful. Don't let the S.O.B. catch you off guard. From now on, we'll travel together.”

“Hey, hold on He-Man! Back off!” She stood and crossed her arms, defiance in every inch of her stance. He had obviously pushed her buttons; it seemed the lady resented someone making decisions for her; he should have realized that.

“No one tells me what to do. I'm a big girl now, and I can take care of myself.” She held up the sheet of paper on which the message had been printed.

“I'll get this to the police as soon as I can; maybe they can find fingerprints or DNA on it. We can't be certain that this sicko actually knows me personally; he might just know of me. My uncle had lots of friends back then; I'm sure he still does. This guy could be anyone, even one of James's buddies; as I recall, there were quite a few bad apples in that barrel.”

She took a deep breath, the color in her cheeks ebbing. Maybe she had realized that he was just being solicitous, and if she bristled at that kind of treatment, well, that was her problem not his. Somewhat calmer, she continued.

“Whoever slipped this guy the information that I was arriving today could have told him about my past, and he probably realizes, from the rumor mill that travels at warp speed around here, how good I am at my job and sees me as a threat; otherwise, he wouldn't worry about me. That gives me power. I'm not unreasonable, Jake. I agree that when it's feasible, we can travel together, but we each have our own work to do. We may be partners, but that doesn't mean we have to be together twenty-four/seven; I don't operate that way.” She paced across the small room and turned to face him once more.

“Let me do my job and worry about this jerk. He isn't the first to try to stop me, and I doubt he'll be the last. Now that I know he's out there, I'll watch for him, I'll find him, and I'll stop him. I don't like threats.”

When he didn't argue further, she relaxed and sat down once again. She quickly described her encounter with Bullwinkle, as she referred to the moose. Although there had been nothing funny about the incident, her dry sense of humor manifested itself in the way she related the story.
Sometimes, you just have to laugh at yourself,
he thought.

“So when the rental agency gets the car back, they can say the finger grooves in the steering wheel are for improved navigation control.” She chuckled. “I don't think they'll be open to returning my security deposit though.” She reached for her beer and took a drink.

“Now, let's forget my stalker for a minute and talk about the fires. You people have not been very forthcoming with information. Since there doesn't seem to be anything specific in the files that I've been given, I'm a little confused about this so-called link. From what I've read, the first fire could have been set by a careless squatter, the second sounds like a kitchen fire, and the third is most likely the result of that dropped cigarette; there doesn't appear to be any connection at all. Accidents, plain and simple; what do you know that I don't?”

She had changed, and he found the change very appealing. She had been more beautiful in her indignation than anyone could have imagined, her eyes flashing fire and growing more compelling for it. Her sense of humor relating the story of her encounter with the moose showed her courage and determination; it was nice to find a woman with a backbone, but whether she liked it or not, he would watch that backbone for her. The memory of a woman who allowed others to brainwash her into doing what they wanted flashed through his mind, but Alexis's presence and her question didn't allow it to take root.

“Whoever the arsonist is, he's very clever, and he's been extremely careful,” said Jake. “It was a fluke that we caught on to him in the first place. We've made a potential connection, but not in the fires, with the victims. That's why it's taken so long to call you in on this.”

“What do you mean by that? I'm a fire investigator, not a forensic anthropologist.” She scowled.

“At first, everyone believed, like you, that the first fire had been an accident, a careless camper squatting in a hunting camp. That being said, we didn't rush the autopsy and identification. We got the report just after the second fire. Our first victim was a small time drug dealer from Montreal known as Bandit, a.k.a. John Slaney. They identified him from dental records. His mother had filed a missing persons report on him early in September, but no one had taken her seriously. It seems young Mr. Slaney made a habit of relocating when the rent was due or the police were getting close.”

“What was a Montreal drug dealer doing in the middle of the woods?” she asked. “They don't usually stray that far from their customers; it's bad for business.”

“He relocated to this area about a year ago; with the year round tourist scene, the use of recreational drugs has doubled. Apparently, he had recently raised his prices, something that annoyed many of his customers. Slaney didn't get to that cabin under his own steam; someone took him there. The collapsed roof cut off the fire's oxygen supply, and the body didn't burn clean.” He took a drink before continuing.

“They found evidence that Slaney had been slipped Rohypnol, probably about seventy micrograms, certainly enough to ensure that he wouldn't wake up any time soon. They were able to detect the presence of the base drug in the tissues; that's how they made the connection. Added to that, the body had been wrapped tightly in a blanket soaked in gasoline; the techs found traces of it imbedded in the tissues on his back. They suspected he was dead before the fire got to him.”

“That still doesn't mean the cases are connected; arson is often used to cover up other crimes. In this case, the dealer wasn't too popular with his clients; maybe he was shorting not only his landlord but his supplier — those guys kill one another at the drop of a hat. Getting access to drugs wouldn't be a problem for them.”

Jake nodded, impressed by how well she knew her stuff. “The local coroner found traces of the same drug in two of the bodies found in the flophouse. The guys were a couple of local handymen, only they made a habit of taking advantage of people by doing substandard work and using inferior materials. They probably short-changed everyone in the region at one time or another. They didn't even live there, for God's sake!” He shook his head.

“The arson boys found evidence of a modern Molotov cocktail at the scene. The kitchen was the only area damaged, but the smoke must have been horrendous. The others in the house, three itinerant construction workers from Quebec, were clean except for a high concentration of alcohol in their systems. The smoke alarm had been disabled. They died of smoke inhalation. The bodies in the kitchen showed signs of being burned alive, Alexis. We kept this out of the papers and out of the public reports.” He finished his beer.

“Are you saying that the men in the kitchen were awake? Why didn't they try to get away?” she asked horrified.

“The techs think they were glued to the chairs.”

“My God!”

Alexis stood and began to pace the way he suspected she always did when she was upset or nervous. She wrapped her arms around herself and worried her lower lip. He could tell the information had upset her, and she was trying hard to hide her dismay.