Fire Angel (7 page)

“What kind of sociopath are we dealing with?” She stood still in front of him, her lips pursed, her forehead wrinkling as she tried to make sense of it.

“What about the third fire? Was Rohypnol used there as well?”

“Because the bodies were so degraded, we have a small sample being tested in Orillia; the report should be in any day now. The other three corpses were in the office and weren't as badly burned. They had been locked in; he probably knew they were there and didn't want them spoiling his fun. They were clean except for a trace of marijuana and some alcohol in the blood stream. Duffy was probably letting them crash there so that they could save money on a motel room. The fire affected the entire structure. That's one of the reasons why we didn't connect it to the others right away. The other two fires were controlled; this was a blazing inferno — out of control almost from the start.”

Alexis resumed her seat. “Were these guys alert too?”

“It's hard to say. Despite the severity of the fire, that section of the garage was relatively intact. Evidence shows that they may have been glued to the chairs with their hands glued together to the table. There is no way they could have escaped even if they had been conscious. There was a fourth chair at the table, but it didn't appear to have been involved.”

He stood, carried his empty beer into the kitchenette, helped himself to another, and brought her a second one too.

“I'll have to revamp my profile. With your note, I'm saying that he's local for sure, so that will narrow the suspect list. Duffy's had a reputation for padding their bills and careless repairs; some of his clients claimed that if they went in with one problem, they went home with another. As the only full service garage in town, they had a captive market. I'm thinking that this guy got cheated one time too many. Push came to shove, and he's shoving back.”

He sat beside her on the couch, stretching his leg out. She was about to speak, but he reached out his hand and stopped her.

“Hear me out before you say anything. This guy is a genius when it comes to fire. In his note to you, he called himself Fire Angel. This is the first time he's given us a name, and choosing a benign creature like an angel fits the hero-vigilante scenario I've been considering, but that's where it ends. He's a sociopath; he kills his targets and doesn't care if someone gets caught in the crossfire, excuse the pun. And he enjoys it; he takes time setting it up. I want you to look at the photos; I'm convinced that the bodies are posed, but I'll need your expertise to verify that. Whoever he is, I think he has a specific agenda, and plans to kill a lot more people before he's done. Unless you can identify him from the fires, we haven't a clue where to start looking.”

She shivered. Jake put his arm around her and pulled her close. She readily accepted his offer of comfort. He liked having her in his arms, and was disappointed when she pulled away a bit and continued their discussion.

“So, you believe this guy is a pyromaniac, a victim of bullying of some kind who has decided to fight back? You say he's putting a lot into getting the scenes ready, but so far, you have no proof that he's getting any pleasure out of setting these fires. That aspect is critical in pyromania. The sociopath part I can buy; I'd pretty much come to the same conclusion, but the other? Give me time to look at the scenes and feel them out; once I do, I'll let you know if your theory is valid.”

Jake looked at her quizzically and frowned.

“You'll be able to tell from looking at the fire scene whether or not he enjoyed himself? I've never heard another fire investigator make that claim.”

Somewhat stung by his disbelieving tone, Alexis pushed away from him and stood.

“That's the reason I'm here, isn't it? Because I can do what no one else can?”

The pleasant feeling that had existed between them vanished. He wasn't the first to be doubtful of her abilities. Why was it that people always mistrusted what they didn't understand?

Jake stood and called Maya to follow him.

“You're right; I don't know enough about what you do to be skeptical. It's late and it's been a long day for both of us. Since you're hell-bent on being independent, I'll meet you at the station in the morning. You have GPS in your car; set the address; it's not hard to find. We can show your note to the chief and have it tested while you look at the evidence.”

She stood to walk him to the door. Before she could hand him his jacket, he put out his hand to stop her.

“Alexis, don't get me wrong, I'm really glad we have this opportunity to reconnect, but I have to ask — why are you here? Why did you take this case? The more I think about this maniac, the more I realize what danger you were in on the highway with that monster out there with you, and I don't mean the moose. Even this cabin might have been a bad choice.”

He reached for her and held her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. “When you left, I was angry at your uncle because he wouldn't look for you. I've searched on and off for years. I'm good at my job, but Alexis Pruett had vanished. You obliterated all traces of yourself. Some of us cared about you, and you hung us all out to dry.” He let go of her and ran his hands through his hair, something he seemed to do when he was frustrated or confused.

“I need to know; why now? Until today, I didn't even know that you were still alive. It was my idea to send for you, based on the article in the paper about the way you brought the mob to its knees, but if I'd known it was you, I'm not sure what I would have done. I know that you're good at your job, but surely there are others who are equally skilled. You do realize that he still lives in town?”

Alexis stood away from him and raised her chin defiantly. This was why she chose to stay alone. Men! Why did they assume they knew everything? That they could fix everything? He had no right to question her. She'd done what she'd done to survive.

As far as the job went, he'd asked for the best and that's what he'd gotten. That hair-trigger anger of hers, the one she tried so hard to keep under control, flared. She glared at him, her hands on her hips, so incensed that she trembled in her fury.

“You don't really know me, you just assume you do. For all intents and purposes, Alexis Pruett is dead; I'm not her. I'm not that scared little girl anymore. I'm here to do this job, and once it's done, I'll go back to Frisco where I belong. You sent for me because of what I do; let me do it.”

She began to pace, unable to stand still.

“It's true that I've done my best to bury Alexis Pruett, and I really thought I wouldn't be recognized, and do you know why I was? Because I apparently look like my mother, a woman I barely remember; I don't even have a picture of my parents to remind me. While I didn't expect to be recognized, it's happened and I'll deal with it. So what if the arsonist is someone I knew sixteen years ago? Knew is the operative word. I've investigated fires in San Francisco; there is always a possibility that a perp is someone I or one of the other investigators knows; it goes with the territory. We don't live in a bubble, a ‘fire or arson investigators only' community. Some of us have families; we're neighbors, citizens, volunteers. We shop, we go to the movies — we're just as likely to rub elbows with criminals as anyone else.”

She picked up her bottle of beer and took a mouthful, her fingers nervously picking at the label as they always did when she was upset. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal.

“I could apologize from now until Doomsday for hurting you and anyone else you think might have been concerned about me, but it wouldn't change anything. I left, and I'm glad I did.”

Let's talk about the elephant in the room,
she sighed.

“Did I know my uncle was still around? No, I didn't, not for sure; in fact, I'd wished him to Hell so many times that I'd hoped he'd somehow gotten the memo. But it wouldn't have mattered; I would have come anyway. He isn't relevant to this assignment unless he's the arsonist. That monster may be a lot of things, but even I don't see him doing this. Skulking around in the dark isn't his style. He's too big a coward for that; he hides his sins behind his ‘I'm Mr. Perfect, the guy everyone wants for a friend' façade and everyone loves him. I suppose I'll have to see him while I'm here, but it's only to put this all behind me. He and I have nothing to say to one another beyond that. What happened sixteen years ago may have impacted me and changed me, but it doesn't define me. I do what I do, and I do it well. No one, not some maniac, not my uncle, and not you will chase me away. Get that through your head, Jake McKenzie. I'm here to do a job, this job, and I intend to finish it.”

“Alexis, forgive me; it wasn't my intention to belittle you or your abilities in any way. I'm sorry. You're right; you have a job to do. I'll be the last one to stand in your way. I shouldn't have said anything.” He ran his hand through his hair.

“I guess it's the shock of seeing you after all these years. I'm doing this badly, but I simply want you safe. Whether you believe it or not, you were important to me then, and now that I see you again, I feel responsible. I'm the one who's put you in this maniac's sights.” He hung his head. “Can you ignore my tirade, so we can at least be friends and partners?”

Staying angry with Jake would not help the situation, and it certainly would not change things. He had a right to his anger; when she'd left, she hadn't thought that her leaving would hurt anyone else. She'd been wrong, and had to accept the responsibility for that. Now, they had to work together, and that was going to be hard enough as it was. She probably owed him an apology and an explanation as well.

It was not his fault that things suddenly had become more complicated. She would have to call Peters first thing in the morning — what was the time difference? Three hours? Four hours? Maybe email would be better. She would have to hope that he would understand why she had to complete the assignment. This was her chance to prove herself not only to her colleagues, but to those who doubted her years ago. She was not ready to leave Paradise just yet.

Before Jake could put on his coat to leave, someone knocked at the door. “Jake?”

“I told the desk clerk that I'd be here,” he explained at her raised eyebrows
.

So much for anonymity and a sterling reputation,
Alexis thought.

She opened the door. A young man stood beside two police constables in full uniform — black jackets with the gold and blue crests, open to reveal Kevlar vests, black shirts, and black pants, and on their heads, they wore black peaked caps with blue bands. Each had on the typical black belt that held flashlights, nightsticks, handcuffs, a Taser X26, and the standard issue SIG Sauer P226. They looked very efficient and somewhat intimidating.

“Good evening. I'm Constable Leduc and this is Constable Howard.” He pointed to the older man standing beside him. “Sorry to bother you; is Jake here?”

Jake had moved aside to allow her to open the door and had come to stand behind her at the sound of the officer's voice.

“Thanks, Randy,” he said to the young man who stood with the police officers. “Pierre, Patrick, meet Special Agent Alexis Michaels; she's here to help us find the arsonist. What can I do for you, Pierre?”

“Grab your coats. There's been another one.”

“Where?” asked Jake.

“Providence House on Spruce; the firefighters are on the scene, but it's bad — apparently there were twenty-six residents plus five staff members in the building. I don't know how many got out. The chief sent us to get you.”

Jake turned to her. “It looks like we'll be starting work sooner than we expected. I'll take Maya back to my place and meet you at the front door. Dress warmly; it'll be cold out there, despite the heat from the fire.”

He grabbed his coat and left the cabin with the officers. Alexis realized that it was going to be a long night.

She put on a pale blue wool cardigan over her navy turtleneck. She grabbed her camera, a flashlight, and a notebook out of her duffel bag. After she made sure that it worked, she stuffed the complementary pen into her coat pocket. She exchanged her leather boots for a pair of flat-soled winterized rubber ones that would keep her feet both warm and dry. At least she'd been smart enough to remember those. She slipped her jacket on, regretting once more that she had no hat or gloves. Jake was right about one thing; it was cold now, and it was bound to get colder still. She turned off the fan, lowered the thermostat on the fireplace, and headed out the door. Jake had promised that Minette would not turn off the lights, but Alexis doubted that they'd be back here much before sunrise.

As she walked quickly across the parking lot, she realized that she hadn't considered her stalker, but then again, if he were the arsonist, as Jake suspected, then he was probably a little too busy with other things right now. She looked up and noticed that clouds had drifted in and the wind had dropped. Thank God for small mercies. Something Jake had said earlier nagged at her, but she could not for the life of her figure out what it was. There were too many things to consider, and the sooner she was able to concentrate on the case, the better. No doubt the death count here was going to be high. A shelter, of all places — this definitely wasn't a man with a hero complex.

She was grateful that she would not be the one driving since speed was of the essence. The three men stood just inside the reception office doors waiting for her and came out as soon as she was in sight.

Jake held out a red and white striped knitted cap, scarf, and a pair of matching gloves.

“I got these from Minette. I remembered you said you'd forgotten to bring some. It's getting colder; you're going to need them.”