Touched by Fire (7 page)

“Exterior units only. We’ll run the tape for CRD and let you know if anything turns up.”

“Appreciate the offer,” Merrick said, deciding that if there was any crime-related data on the tape, he’d find it himself. “But I’m gonna need a copy. Leave a message with dispatch, and I’ll pick it up.”

Copeland nodded grudgingly.

“By the way, nobody touches anything in there until I say so. Dr. Graham included.”

Lilah was staring numbly at the black hole that had been her office when she noticed Merrick leaving the lab. She hurried past Copeland and dashed between the work-stations in pursuit, bursting into the corridor to see Merrick entering the elevator. “Hey! Hey, Lieutenant, wait!” she called out, managing to slip inside just as the door was closing. “Where you going?”

“Another fire.”

“What about this one?”

“It’s on hold for a while.”

Lilah’s eyes clouded with disappointment.

“Sorry. Hot weather brings all the weirdos out of the woodwork. It looks like one of them tried to turn you into a french fry.” Merrick fished a business card from a breast pocket and handed it to her. “Give me a call if you think of anyone who’d want to kill you.”

A surge of adrenaline set Lilah’s heart pounding wildly
in her chest. She was thunderstruck by the remark and was staring at him in stunned silence when the elevator stopped. Merrick bolted through the door before it had fully opened. A few seconds passed before Lilah pulled herself together and ran after him, hurrying across the lobby and through the door into the plaza. Merrick was on the far side pushing through a group of reporters who had converged on the Blazer. He climbed behind the wheel, started the engine, and set the emergency flasher on the roof. Lilah pressed on undaunted. She was a few feet from the vehicle when Merrick slammed it in gear and drove off without so much as a nod.

Lilah recoiled at the ear-piercing screech of tires, then watched numbly as the Blazer’s taillights vanished in the distance. The wail of its siren rose in intensity along with the unnerving feeling in the pit of Lilah’s stomach. She swallowed hard to keep from wretching, then looked about anxiously at those around her. Merrick’s offhanded remark had pierced her armor, shattering her carefully crafted denial; and she had suddenly realized that her reckless disregard for her own safety, her obsessive concern for her work, her initial hostility toward Merrick, her subsequent attempts at levity and coy flirtations had all been part of a subconscious diversion, a way to avoid coping with the terrifying knowledge that someone had tried to kill her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Serena Chen and Paul Schaefer had been at the security desk in the lobby when Lilah ran from the elevator after Merrick. They were among a group of researchers who’d heard about the fire and were trying to get up to their offices and labs. Only those with Mac-Med ID were being allowed inside, and even
they
were told to wait in the lobby until the building was declared safe. Lilah had been too intent on her pursuit to notice her colleagues, but they saw her dash past. The Blazer was long gone and she was still standing at the curb, staring blankly into the darkness when they caught up to her.

“Lilah?” Schaefer called out. “Lilah, what happened?”

She turned toward him but was blinded by lights mounted atop TV cameras as a jostling mob of reporters encircled her, elbowing her two colleagues aside.

“What
did
happen up there, Dr. Graham?” one of the reporters demanded, thrusting a microphone in Lilah’s face.

“Was it an accident?” another shouted.

“We heard an arson investigator was here!”

“Was the fire intentional?”

Lilah looked confused and overwhelmed. “I don’t know,” she replied weakly, too shaken to explain. The questions were still coming rapid-fire when Serena
knifed her wiry frame between two reporters. “That will be all for now,” she announced, her voice ringing with clipped British authority. “Dr. Graham will have an official statement tomorrow.” She took Lilah’s arm and smoothly extricated her.

Schaefer ran interference as they crossed to the entrance. One of the security officers cleared them into the lobby; others kept the media from following as Serena impulsively pulled Lilah into an embrace. “Good heavens,” the junior researcher exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

Lilah nodded and clung to her tightly. Her colleague’s reaction was clearly heartfelt, and more than welcome, despite their professional jousting.

“I’d just arrived home when security called,” Serena went on breathlessly. “Have we lost everything?”

“No, thank God. The reefers are okay, and I saved most of the—” Lilah stopped abruptly and looked around as if she’d misplaced something. Spotting Captain Singer standing amid the tangle of hoses that covered the floor, she rushed toward him. “My briefcase, my shopping bag? What happened to them?”

The captain smiled reassuringly and directed her to the security desk, where he’d stashed them for safekeeping. Lilah was just rejoining her colleagues when she glimpsed Kauffman peering through one of the windows and averted her eyes.

“I know this isn’t a good time, Lilah,” Schaefer said, “but what do you want to do about Monday?”

Lilah appeared puzzled. “Monday?”

“The prison . . .”

Lilah shrugged, obviously unable to deal with it.

“Why don’t you let us arrange a postponement?”
Schaefer offered. “You know, a few days, until you’re back up to speed.”

Lilah smiled numbly and nodded.

“Well,” Schaefer said, sensing she was hoping for a bit of chivalry he couldn’t provide, “I’d like to see you home, but I’ve really got to get going.”

Lilah nodded and tried to contain her emotions. Schaefer’s instincts were right She felt vulnerable and alone, and had wanted him to escort her. And, more than ever, she wished she had someone to come home to.

“I’ve a thought,” Serena said brightly. “Why don’t
I
drop you off? I’d be happy to keep you company for a while. Perhaps we can catalogue this data you’ve rescued? Take your mind off things . . .”

Lilah hesitated, wondering if Serena had an ulterior motive, but petty animosities paled in comparison to her fragile state. “Thanks, that would be nice.”

Kauffman watched from a distance as they left the building and hurried through the windy plaza toward the parking structure. He knew the nature of their relationship kept Lilah from acknowledging him, but he still felt empty as he slung his backpack over a shoulder and started down the broad staircase.

A short time later the two women were in Serena’s Mazda, winding up the hill to the condominium complex. They parked on the street and were walking through the courtyard when Lilah’s eyes darted anxiously to the bank of mailboxes. Several were adorned with a yellow slip of paper, indicating a package in the receiving room; but none had been taped to hers.

Greatly relieved, she led Serena into her apartment, then excused herself to shed her damp clothes, take a quick shower, and pull on some sweats. When she returned
Serena was sitting on the living-room floor hunched over a laptop computer. She’d removed a packet of autorads from the Macy’s shopping bag and was logging the bar-code numbers.

Lilah fetched a couple of beers and began removing the boxes of computer diskettes from her briefcase. “That was quick thinking before. Thanks for getting me out of there.”

“I didn’t think a whit, believe me,” Serena confessed, typing in another bar code. “I just did it. By the way, who was that grungy fellow who drove off?”

“The arson investigator.”

“An arson investigator, driving a
Blazer?
”
Serena exclaimed incredulously. “Takes his work seriously, doesn’t he?”

Lilah nodded glumly. “He thinks someone tried to kill me.”

Serena’s jaw slackened. “You’re quite serious, aren’t you?”

“Quite.”

“My God, Lilah, I’d no idea. Really, I thought perhaps a bit of levity might . . .” Serena let it trail off and shuddered at the thought. “Good heavens . . . why?”

Lilah shrugged, and pulled her knees up under her chin. A long silence passed before they resumed cataloguing the items. They’d been at it for almost an hour when Serena got to the bottom of the shopping bag and came upon the bright red teddy.

“Lilah!” she exclaimed, whisking it out of the bag.

Lilah shrugged. “It’s going back,” she said, preferring not to get into the details.

“Really? I find it rather fetching.” Serena eyed her as if making a decision, then dangled the slinky lingerie in
front of her. “And I daresay, I’d find it all the more fetching on you.”

Lilah took a moment to comprehend what her protégée seemed to be suggesting. “Something tells me there’s a side of you I don’t know about, Serena.”

Serena peered from within the shiny black mane that framed her face and smiled seductively. “We all have one, don’t we?”

She did have an ulterior motive, Lilah thought, but it was more personal than professional. Lilah exhaled a long stream of smoke, then slowly put out her cigarette. “Sleeping with the boss seems to be taking on a whole new meaning these days, doesn’t it?”

Serena moved closer and put an arm around Lilah comfortingly. “It could,” she said softly.

An intrigued smile betrayed Lilah’s thoughts. Usually, her sense of adventure and appetite for danger would have prompted her to consider taking such a risk, but tonight it was her need to be held, to be comforted, to feel protected; and there was a surprising tenderness in Serena’s moist, almond-shaped eyes, and a softness to her touch that sent a rippling sensation to the tips of Lilah’s extremities.

Lilah’s eyes darted about in search of a mirror, as they always did when she was in need of reassurance. She caught sight of herself in the one in the entry and studied the image, making her decision. “I really appreciate everything you did for me tonight, Serena—” she said, her voice breaking slightly.

Serena smiled thinly, knowingly. “Something tells me that teddy
is
going back, isn’t it?”

Lilah nodded. “I just don’t think I could handle it. I hope you understand.”

“Of course,” Serena replied, lowering her eyes contritely
tritely. She was flustered now, and took a moment to collect herself. “I don’t know what to say, Lilah. I’m afraid I was more than a bit out of line. I can’t imagine what came over me.”

“An impulse,” Lilah offered generously. Then, glancing with concern to the teddy, she added, “We both seem to be having trouble resisting them tonight.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lilah
was exhausted, but her brain refused to shut down, and she’d been lying awake in the darkness for several hours. Her eyes had just begun to close when the phone rang. “Yeah?” she whispered sleepily, fumbling with the receiver.

“Lilah? Oh, I’m so glad you’re there!” Marge Graham shrieked excitedly.

Lilah bolted upright in the bed. “Is it Daddy?” she asked, assuming the worst because of the hour.

“No, he’s fine. What about you? I couldn’t sleep, so I put on the TV. They bad something about a fire at UCLA. The genetics lab.
Well,
you can imagine what—“

“Mom?
Mom . . .
I’m fine . . . Uh-huh, you’re right, I should’ve called . . . No, just exhausted. I’ll fill you in tomorrow, okay? . . . Promise.”

Lilah hung up, sagged against the headboard and lit a cigarette. The flare of the match brought the evening’s events back in a numbing rush. She inhaled deeply and shuddered at the words that were ringing in her head.

It wasn’t her mother’s shrill chatter that she heard, but Dan Merrick’s dispassionate probing: You have any enemies? Genetics a competitive field? What about jealous colleagues? Any enemies? Competitive field? Jealous col-
leagues? Enemies? Competitive? Jealous? Colleagues? Colleagues? Colleagues?

Her eyes darted from one mirror to the next, and then the next; and then to the sweep of black hair beside her. Despite their awkward moment, Lilah really hadn’t wanted to be alone, and she’d insisted that Serena keep her company. Now, she watched Serena’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

The phone rang again, snapping her out of it.

The caller apologized for the hour and identified himself as a reporter. Lilah hung up and unplugged the phone, then sat staring into the darkness until the first rays of light painted the room a dusty pink and the rising wind rattled the windows in their frames.

The morning news shows led with the wildfires and Santa Ana winds that were still fanning them. A reed-thin fellow sporting a boutonniere was strutting across the TV screen doing the five-day forecast. “That’s right, folks, we’re looking at
more
dry air,
more
gusting winds, and
more
double-zero digits!” he exclaimed with the goofy enthusiasm that afflicts L.A.’s all-male corps of weather reporters. “We’re talking a hundred-plus degrees out there today! And
no
end to the fire season in sight! Marta?” he prompted cheerily, handing off to one of L.A.’s many double-minority newsreaders.

“Thanks for putting it all in perspective for us, Lannie.” She lowered her voice and in a grave tone repeated, “
No end in sight.
Indeed, despite the heroic efforts of firefighters, the Las Flores, Trancas, and Calabasas wildfires are still burning and are
all
of suspicious origin.” She turned to a monitor where a wind-lashed field reporter was standing in front of the Health Sciences Center. The words
LIVE UCLA
appeared on the screen as she prompted, “This
is the time of year when L.A.’s Arson Squad earns its keep, isn’t it, Skip?”

“It sure is, Marta. Especially when you consider there are only nineteen investigators for a city of over three million people. Compare that to San Francisco’s fifteen investigators for a fourth of the population, and you can see why L.A.’s squad is feeling the heat—but this week one of them still found time to be a hero.”

Lilah was in the shower. Serena was sitting on the bed with a cup of coffee, staring at the TV. Her eyes widened when a videotape of Merrick and the rescued firemen appeared. “Lilah?” she called out. “Lilah, it seems your arson investigator is on the news.”

Lilah hurried from the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel, and watched as the camera zoomed in on Merrick’s weary face.

“That’s right, Marta,” the reporter went on, “Lieutenant Dan Merrick was in hot pursuit of an arsonist when he took action that saved the lives of five firemen; and less than twenty-four hours later, Merrick was here at UCLA investigating yet another suspicious fire.” The image changed to a videotape of Lilah encircled by the media. “A fire that was started by a fire bomb mailed to Dr. Lilah E. Graham, a prominent researcher and member of the medical school faculty. Informed sources are saying the motive may be related to the controversial nature of her work—a motive that raises the specter of Unabomber Theodore Kaczynski. As you may recall, before being caught and imprisoned several years ago, Kaczynski had spent nearly two decades sending mail bombs to unsuspecting victims whose work or philosophy he found offensive. Many were university professors.”

“Well,” Serena sighed resignedly. “I was rather hoping it was all a bad dream.”

“That makes two of us. I don’t know how we’re going to get it all done in time,” Lilah lamented, referring to the upcoming seminar in Maryland; then her eyes clouded with fear and her voice took on a more fragile timbre. “I want to do
something,
but I don’t know what. I feel so . . . so damned paralyzed.”

“Well, releasing a statement would be a start. I’ll rough something out, if you like?”

“Good idea, thanks. Then what?”

“I’d say you’ve little choice but to leave the rest to the authorities. This Merrick fellow seems capable enough.”

“I’m scared, Serena. What am I supposed to do, ask him to protect me?”

“Oh, I doubt that will be necessary. He came charging to his colleagues’ rescue, didn’t he?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Really? A damsel in distress, a fire-eating prince oozing machismo from every pore—it’s fair to assume he’ll come charging to your rescue as well.”

“Well, I’m not going to hold my breath.” She lit a cigarette and exhaled thoughtfully, breaking into an ironic smile. “You know, Serena, you’re the last person I thought I’d ever be talking to like this. I mean, I don’t know why I feel so comfortable with you, but I do.”

“That’s because you don’t give a bloody damn what I think of you.”

“Not a bloody damn,” Lilah said, mimicking her as they both began laughing.

“Good, because to be brutally honest . . . all these mirrors, really. I can barely stand looking at myself in the morning, let alone dozens of you.”

The laughter brightened Lilah’s spirits. She fetched Merrick’s business card from her briefcase and called headquarters. When told he hadn’t come in yet, she left her cellular number, said it was important, and asked that he call as soon as possible. Then she got dressed, in jeans, T-shirt, tennis shoes, put on a few dabs of perfume, and gathered her things.

Serena dropped her at Macy’s and headed home for a shower and change of clothes. Lilah took the escalator to the lingerie department on the second floor. She still couldn’t recall buying the teddy and, along with returning it, hoped the clerk who made the sale might recognize her and provide the details and circumstances.

Lilah was drifting between the racks of lacy undergarments when a well-dressed woman who seemed vaguely familiar broke into a knowing smile. “Hi there, how’d that teddy work out for you?”

“Oh, hi,” Lilah replied. “Actually, not too well.”

“Decided red wasn’t for you, huh?”

Lilah removed the teddy from the bag along with the receipt. “The fact is, I just can’t spend this much.”

“Oh,” the sales clerk exclaimed, clearly surprised. “You gave me the opposite impression yesterday.”

“I did?” Lilah prompted.

“Uh-huh. I remember because, well, it took me years to stop buying cheap underwear, you know?” She leaned closer to Lilah and shifted into a confidential tone. “Of course, soon as I did, I started seeing this man who had a thing for tearing it off me. It gets a little expensive sometimes, but hey, ten years, three kids, and don’t ask me how many teddies later, we’re still mad about each other.”

“He doesn’t have a brother, does he?”

The clerk laughed, then ran Lilah’s MasterCard through
the imprinter and returned it with the refund slip and a pen. “Anyway, when I showed you what I had, you went right for this one.”

“Gosh, I can’t imagine what I was thinking.”

“Well, you did seem a little scattered,” the clerk offered. She was about to staple Lilah’s copy of the credit slip to the sales receipt when her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Yeah, I’d say you were having a pretty off night.” She set them side by side on the counter and pointed to the signatures.

They were totally different.

An eerie chill went through Lilah and set her mind racing. How could she explain to the sales clerk what she couldn’t explain to herself? “Some people get a craving for chocolate,” she finally said, forcing a laugh. “Me, I get extravagant, and my signature changes. What can I tell you?”

Before leaving the store, Lilah took the cellular phone from her briefcase and called Merrick’s office. “It’s Dr. Graham again. I left a message earlier . . . In the field? Thanks . . . No, no need to page him.”

She hung up and hurried across the street toward the campus. If Merrick was in the field, she was fairly certain she knew where to find him.