Tender Is The Night (30 page)

"The fires. I asked him what he thought about there being two more fires, and he asked me if I was accusing him. Things went from bad to worse."

"You have doubts about him, too," he said, seeing the truth in her eyes.

"I don't want to believe that he's been burning down buildings I worked on to punish me, but I can't deny that there's a pattern. I really thought it was over until this past week when they started up again. Now, I don't know what to think. Eileen is really worried, and I am, too. I don't want it to be Brad. I really don't."

He could see the desperation in her eyes. "We need to find him. If he's not responsible, then we can clear him and move on. But disappearing and not being willing to talk will not help his cause."

"I've already called him a couple of times. And I called his sponsor, too. He hasn't heard from him."

Devin did not like the sound of that. "If you talk to him, you need to find out where he is, and you need to call me immediately."

She slowly nodded. "All right. He's not a bad guy, you know. He just has a temper, and he was upset that anyone could suspect him of arson. He gave so much of his life to firefighting."

"If he's not guilty, he doesn't have to feel bad."

"It's easier to say that when you're not being accused of something."

"It's not easier; it's just the truth."

She gave him a long look. "I'll let you know if I find him."

As Gerilyn left the room, he moved back to Eileen's desk to grab his phone. As he reached for it, his gaze caught on some family photographs on Eileen's desk. The girl standing next to Eileen in one of the pictures was very familiar.

He walked around the desk and picked it up to take a closer look.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing. The young woman with the straight brown hair and brown eyes was the same girl he'd seen in the St. Bernadette's yearbook. But that girl's last name had not been Raffin.

With his pulse beating fast, he took the photo down the hall to Gerilyn's office. He walked in without knocking.

"Gerilyn?"

"What now?" she asked, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

"Who's this with Eileen?" He held up the picture for her to see.

"That's her daughter, Lindsay. Why?"

"Is she a stepdaughter? Why doesn't she have Eileen's last name?"

"She has her father's name—Blake. Eileen uses her maiden name."

His heart was beating so hard and so loud, he could hardly hear himself think. He was standing on the precipice of something…" Did Lindsay go to St. Bernadette's Catholic High School?"

"I think so. Why? What's wrong?"

"Where can I find her?"

"I'm not sure where she lives now—somewhere in the city. You can ask Eileen."

Eileen.
They hadn't thought Eileen was the target but rather Gerilyn. Had they been wrong?

"What's Lindsay's relationship with her mother?" he asked.

"The usual mother-daughter drama. They've had their troubles over the years. They haven't always been close. Eileen worked a lot when Lindsay was small. Lindsay seemed to resent that." Gerilyn paused. "Why are we talking about Lindsay?"

"Because she went to school with Rick Baines at St. Bernadette's. Because a few days ago, there was a fire at that school."

"Now you think Lindsay had something to do with the fires?" Gerilyn asked in astonishment.

"Not something—
everything
. I think your husband just got off the hook, Gerilyn."

"Where are you going?" she asked as he jogged toward the door.

"To find Lindsay."

As he headed out of the building to the car, he remembered that Lindsay had called her mom while she was in the office, and she'd been agitated about something.

Maybe about the fire she'd set the night before?

Was it possible that it was Eileen's daughter who was out for revenge? But why? Resentment for her mother working during her childhood? That didn't seem like a strong enough reason.

When he got to the car, he texted Kate.
Ask Eileen about her daughter. Find out where Lindsay lives. Get me the address if you can but try not to make her suspicious
." He wasn't completely sure that if Lindsay was involved, she was acting alone.

Perhaps Eileen was part of it, too. His gut tightened. Eileen had offered to take Kate to one of the target properties. Wasn't it a huge coincidence that one of the properties on the list he'd sent to Eileen the night before now wanted a remodel?

Was Eileen just trying to get Kate into the house?

Had she done the same thing with Sam?

He felt sick at the thought.

He started the car and peeled off down the street. He knew where they were going. He just had to get there before the unthinkable happened.

Twenty-One

"I'm so sorry," Eileen said, as she searched for a parking spot. "I promise this will just take a few minutes. My daughter gets really upset around the anniversary of her dad's death, which is this week. I just want to make sure she's all right."

"Of course," Kate said. Eileen had gotten a call from her daughter again when they'd gotten into the car. Even from a distance away, Kate could hear how hysterical the girl was, so she'd agreed to stop for a minute so Eileen could make sure her daughter was all right.

As they turned another corner, she frowned, realizing exactly where they were—only a few blocks from Ashbury Studios.

"This is where you live?" she asked.

"No, not anymore," Eileen replied. "It's where I used to live. After my husband died, we moved to Nob Hill. I had this flat remodeled, and it's been a rental for the past ten years. But a couple of weeks ago, my long-term tenant moved out, and my daughter asked if she could move in. I said yes, but now I think it was a bad idea. Even though the place has been completely redone, there are memories there."

Eileen pulled in front of a two-story townhouse, partially blocking the driveway, and turned off the car. "Do you want to come in or…"

"I'll come in," she said, her heart skipping a beat as she got out of the car and looked across the street at the bookstore where a large peace sign hung in the window.

What the hell? This couldn't be a coincidence, could it?

As they entered Eileen's building, she saw some texts from Devin, but she didn't have time to read them.

She texted him the address and a quick message:
Eileen's daughter lives here—across from the peace sign. Going to meet her now. Something weird going on. Come if you can.

"There are two units," Eileen said, leading her up the stairs. "The first floor is rented to a single man. He's out of town a lot."

When Eileen reached the door, Kate said, "Wait."

Eileen gave her a questioning look. "Why?"

"It smells like gas."

Eileen's eyebrow shot up. "It does smell like gasoline. Oh, God, I hope someone hasn't gone after my daughter because they have a grudge against me." Her hand trembled as she tried to insert the key into the lock.

"I don't think we should go in," Kate said, her gut telling her there was nothing good on the other side of the door.

"My daughter is in there. I'm going in."

Kate was torn, but as the door opened, she felt compelled to follow Eileen inside. The smell of gas was stronger now. There were rags and newspapers strewn around the floor, over the couch and along the far wall. Fuel—ready to burn.

"Lindsay," Eileen called. "Where are you?"

Lindsay? It was the first time Eileen had said her daughter's first name, and Kate's stomach churned. Lindsay was the name of the girl in the St. Bernadette's yearbook.

As Eileen headed toward a dark hallway, the front door slammed shut.

Kate whirled around to see a slender brunette in her mid-twenties, standing in front of the door that she'd now dead-bolted shut. In one hand was a long match. In the other was a box with more matches.

Kate's heart leapt into her throat.

"Lindsay," Eileen said, coming back into the living room. She saw her daughter with the match and froze. "My God, what are you doing?"

Everything suddenly clicked into place for Kate.

Lindsay was friends with Baines.

Lindsay was Eileen's daughter.

Lindsay was the arsonist.

"It was you," Kate said. "You set the fires."

"What are you talking about?" Eileen asked, her gaze moving from Kate to Lindsay. "Lindsay, what is she talking about?" She started toward her daughter, but Lindsay motioned her back.

"Don't move," Lindsay said.

"I don't understand. Lindsay, what are you doing?" Eileen asked.

"I'm going to burn the apartment down. Isn't it obvious? Our beautiful home is going to explode and burn to the ground, and we're going to be in it when it happens." Her gaze moved to Kate. "You escaped last night's fire. You won't be so lucky today."

"Lindsay," her mother said. "This is crazy."

"Well, I'm crazy. And you know why, so you can stop acting surprised."

"I don't know why." Eileen looked at Kate. "I don't know what's going on."

"Lindsay set all the fires," Kate said, her gaze on Lindsay's stoic, cold eyes. "Why did you do it, Lindsay?"

"Because I had to escape from
him
."

"From who?" Kate asked.

"My father, of course."

"Oh, Lindsay," Eileen said in a pleading voice. "I told you that I didn't know he hurt you, that I was sorry."

"Actually, you never said that, Mother. You said you thought I misunderstood. You said sometimes Dad does things he doesn't mean to when he gets drunk. You said you would have done something if you'd known. But that isn't true. You always knew. You just didn't want to admit it."

"I didn't know. I swear it. I told you that when you talked to me after he died. I wish you had come to me sooner."

"When would I have done that? You were gone all the time. And when you went to meet your clients at night, he would come into my room. He would tell me that I had to make him happy, because you were gone. You liked historical houses more than him, more than me, so we had to take care of each other." Lindsay drew in a breath. "He abused me for years, and no one would listen to me."

Lindsay's wavering voice gave Kate hope. If she could keep the young woman talking, maybe she could distract her and take her down before she could light the match in her hand. But while she had no doubt she could overpower Lindsay, she was worried she wouldn't be fast enough, that the flames would hit the gasoline and injure Eileen and possibly all of them before they could get out.

Devin would come as soon as he got her text. She had to give him time to get there.

"The peace sign," she said, interrupting their conversation. "I saw it in the window of the bookstore across the street. Is that where you got the idea for the fire pattern?"

Lindsay's gaze swung to her. "I looked at that neon sign every night when he was in my room. Peace. I wanted that peace. But I didn't know how to get it. I went to the counselor at school. I told her my father was doing things he shouldn't, and she said she'd call my mother, and she'd call the police. But she didn’t call anyone. She left for maternity leave. She went to have her baby while I was being hurt."

"Was that Marion Baker?"

"No, it was the other one."

"Is that why you set the first fire at a school?"

"Yes," Lindsay said. "I knew you were figuring it out when that guy chased me away from the rec center fire. How did you know I was going to go there?"

"We knew it had to be one of a few buildings within that area. Did you try to get help from someone at a community center, Lindsay?"

The girl nodded. "But I couldn't ask them, because there were other kids around, and I didn't want anyone to know. I tried to hint, but they didn't get it. I didn't have any way out of my horrible life. I was burning up inside. And then one day my friend was playing around with matches, and he started a fire in a wastebasket, and in those flames, I saw the papers crumple into ashes, and I thought I could do that, too. I could make that happen. I knew I wasn't going to escape unless
he
went away."

"Oh, my God," Eileen breathed, her hand going to her mouth. "No, Lindsay. You weren't home that night. You were at your friend's house."

"For some of the night, I was. I waited until he got drunk and passed out, and then I came back, and I lit the apartment on fire. I watched him burn, and I felt the most incredible release. Everything was gone. All the pain, all the anger. I was free. And he was dead. It was the best night of my life."

Eileen looked like she was going to pass out. "They said it was cigarettes. He was smoking on the couch."

"He was always smoking on the couch. It was easy to make it look like that."

"Did Rick teach you how to set fires?" Kate asked, stunned to hear Lindsay confess to killing her father. The fires had started much earlier than she and Devin had imagined.

Lindsay nodded. "Rick wasn't supposed to die, but he wanted to be a hero. He figured out what I was doing, and he wanted to stop me so the fire department would let him in. He told that FBI agent where I was going to go next. I had to take them both down."

"So now you're going to kill me?" Eileen asked in shock. "I'm your mother. I love you. I want to get you help."

"You never wanted to before."

"I didn't know," Eileen said in a broken voice. "I swear it. I didn't know."

"You're really good at lying to yourself. All these years, I kept waiting for you to notice that the fires were hitting all your buildings, but you never did. You thought it was Gerilyn's husband."

Kate was beginning to realize that every fire had been a call for help. Lindsay had wanted her mother's attention, and she'd finally gotten it.

"The fires started five years ago," Kate said. "Or is that not true? Were there others before?"

"I thought I could stop after
he
died. It was better for a while. I went away to school. I thought I could be normal. No one would ever know. But after I graduated, after I came back, and I saw her with another guy, another guy who looked at me the way
he
did—"