Kat ordered lunch, ignoring Vinnie’s suggestion that she needed pie. Glancing down at her clothes, she had to admit they were a little looser than, say, six months ago. Okay, so she had lost a few pounds. And yes, she did have to put a belt on with her pants this morning. They wouldn’t have fallen off—she still had enough junk in the trunk to keep them up. However, one bite of Miss Elsie’s chocolate cream pie would introduce about five thousand calories into her system. No telling how many millions of calories a whole slice contained. Holding on tight to her willpower, Kat resisted the urge to call in for a piece to be added to her order. One small step and it would be a fast slide into hedonism and bigger pants.
Ashley walked in with a white bag smelling of heaven. “Does this mean I have the job?”
“Welcome to LexaKat PI Services. When can you start?” Kat took the bag and inhaled deep, then groaned when she saw the pie.
Ashley snickered. “She said you’d do that and to eat it anyway. Also, I can start now. What do you need me to do?”
Kat pointed to a stack of files and explained what she needed. Ashley listened, grabbed the stack, told Kat to sit and eat, and got to work. Kat was wondering why they hadn’t they hired an intern before . . . one like Ashley who could actually do manual work, unlike Vinnie who was better for comic relief, snooping, and reading witnesses’ bullshit.
Together they flipped through the insurance files and pulled out the profiles on the owners. Doctors Cora Barone, Brooke Harris, and Selena Walker, all graduated from the University of Washington. Each did their respective internships and residencies at the prestigious university hospital before moving back east, where Selena hailed from, and opened a clinic together. Within two years, they went from one clinic to three. Each of the doctors rotated from one to the next on a regular basis. Not a bad five-year expansion plan. Possibly one or all three came from money, or somewhere in the mix hid a silent partner.
She flipped through more pages, but didn’t see a financial profile on the owners or even a credit report. Pretty slack of the insurance company. While they thought disgruntled patient, Kat thought financially-in-debt owners. A recent case had taught both her and Lexie never to judge anyone at face value, even if you’d known them your whole life.
Kat pulled out her phone and sent a text to her dad, asking what, if anything he knew about the three doctors. As a surgeon, he knew most of the medical members of their community.
“What do the local cops say?” Ashley asked.
“I’ve got to get hold of them. I’ve been working with the fire marshal.”
Kat ordered credit reports on all three ladies and then put in for a credit report on the clinics themselves.
“Want me to schedule interviews with this list of employees?” Ashley asked.
“Yes, but make it for tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got a personal appointment at nine.”
While they waited for the financial records to download, Kat mentally prepped for tomorrow’s interview. The idea terrified her, having only gone through the process once before. At the midway point in college she’d interviewed for an internship with a large investigation firm in Hartford and landed the coveted position. The internship lasted two years and upon graduation they hired her as a full-time investigator. Lexie got the other internship and went to work for them as well after college. That had been seven, nearly eight years ago. And the fact that tomorrow’s meeting was with someone she’d known causally for years didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made her nerves jump more so. Not to mention, within the next hour, the entire town would probably know.
A drawback of small-town life, the speed of the gossip mill could rival that of an F-18 fighter jet at times. One would think, as a private detective, that rumors could help solve a case. Most of the time, you got bitten in the ass.
Oh well, she’d have to suck it up and deal. She’d planned on talking to Lexie about her doubts, and thinking maybe this wasn’t the career for her, but things got busy with the wedding. Time slipped by, and the next she knew she was waving goodbye and dodging a bouquet. Until Lex returned, she’d shoulder the guilt and plow ahead. Right now, she had a case that needed her attention, one for a steady client who kept the bills paid and the home fires stoked, so to speak.
Attention back on work, she scanned the credit reports first. The first thing that caught her attention was the paid-off student loans for all three. Each woman had a modest car and house loan. Low to no balances on their credit cards? Med school was expensive—taking years to pay off—yet these three had managed to pay theirs off while still in their residencies. It was possible they all came from money. Having grown up around the medical community with a renowned orthopedic surgeon as a father, Kat knew firsthand how the interns and residents complained about the amount they had to pay back. She pulled up another website and ordered full background checks on the owners.
“Interesting reading, isn’t it?” Ashley asked. She’d already scanned through the reports while Kat ate.
“It is and makes you wonder about our good doctors.”
Again, she flipped through the file, this time looking for the fire investigator’s interview notes. Not finding what she wanted, Kat dialed the number listed on his business card. He answered with a terse yeah, sirens screaming in the background and multiple people shouting.
“Shawn, where are you?”
“Route 2 in North Stonington at the old Millhouse Restaurant. There’s been a fire and it looks like arson.” His voiced faded as he yelled to someone in the background. “Sorry, it’s chaos here.”
“Do you think it’s the same person?
“Too soon to tell, and there are differences. To start with, this place is abandoned.” A frustrated sigh came over the phone. “Kat, if it’s the same arsonist, we might have a break. But the bad news is, if it’s him, then either he wasn’t as careful or he’s escalated, because this time someone was hurt.”
Chaos? What came after? Shawn wondered. Whatever it was probably fit the situation better. The old restaurant had been neglected, with weeds and trees growing much too close to the building and creating the perfect path for the fire to travel from the building to the nearby woods. There had been months of high temperatures and no rain, leaving the woods dry and dangerous. A housing development stood on one side of the trees and, on the other, the elementary school. The fire department responded quickly, but like most small towns in Connecticut, volunteers manned the station. People had to leave work or school, come in from the farm fields, and then drive to the call location.
Precious moments were eaten up as the firefighters commuted. Thankfully, today the fire chief had recognized the danger right away and called for backup. Trucks from all over—Pawcatuck, Stonington, Camden Point—littered the small parking area and surrounding street. Everyone was covered in soot, dripping from the heat, Shawn included. In a situation like this, no one stood around watching, everyone jumped in and did their share.
By the time he had arrived, charred remains stood in place of the building. The EMTs had transported the victim to the nearest hospital and the crews were fighting the blazing bushes. They had managed to stop the flames before they could reach the first house or come near the school. Shawn had suited up and jumped into the foray and was now working with the crews to put out any hot spots. It might sound wrong, but today was the kind of day he lived for. The adrenaline rush, the closeness of his fellow firefighters as they stood by each other’s sides and contained the beast, beating it back into submission. Saving someone’s life. That’s why he’d chosen this career. Here he was needed, wanted, appreciated.
“Hey, Randall, the building’s all yours,” Martinez, from the Stonington house, called out.
Grabbing his clipboard, he waved a hand in acknowledgement and headed into the ruins. The business once housed here had closed long before he moved to the area, but he had overheard one of the others mention that it used to be if you wanted a great steak and to impress your date, you couldn’t p
ick better than the Millhouse. What was left now were a giant stone fireplace, a few blackened pillars, and the concrete floor. Not much to go on. Grabbing his digital camera from a side pocket on his pants, Shawn walked through the debris taking pictures of everything. Nothing was left unphotographed. Next he pulled out his MiniRAE, a handheld device that acted like a Geiger counter. The closer you got to an accelerant the louder it got. Instantly the machine beeped, getting higher in frequency toward the perimeter of the building and lower in the middle. Whoever started the fire had most likely poured gasoline all over on the inside walls. Of course, he wouldn’t know for sure until the samples he bagged were analyzed by the state lab.
There was no way to say for sure that this was the same arsonist who had torched the clinics, but the chances of two of them hitting so close in location and time were pretty slim. The next questions were why this place and how did it tie into the clinics?
And who was the victim? Probably some unlucky bastard who happened to come along at the wrong time. Or one of the many homeless who slept in abandoned buildings. Or could justice already have been served? Was the man lying in the hospital the arsonist, caught in his own trap?
Chapter 3
Kat stood on the sidewalk leading to the elementary school’s front entrance. It’d been years since she’d passed through those doors. Even longer since she’d been summoned to the principal’s office. Strange how the thought could still cause butterflies to swarm through her system, although this time it was pre-interview jitters, not guilt. The last time she’d been called in to see the principal had been middle school and she had dumped her lunch on Dan Freeman’s lap when he’d grabbed her butt in the cafeteria. She didn’t have anything to feel guilty about back then, and she didn’t now. Except for bailing on her best friend. Maybe. She hadn’t fully decided what to do, but she knew she needed to check out her options.
From the outside, the place looked the same. Sure, it had a fresh coat of paint on the window frames, new equipment stood on the playground, but the two-story, dark red brick building still looked like a prison for kids. There was even a buzzer at the side of the door and a camera. Pressing the button, Kat waited for a booming voice to come over the intercom and demand to know her business. Instead, a sweet, high-pitched voice said welcoming words, and inside red hallways, covered in fall leaves and pictures of all the happy little cherubs, greeted her.
Ah, the blissful ignorance of youth. The best of times with no cares in the world, no heartache, no stress to bring you down and try to take you out. Simple times of hand-shaped turkeys, recess, and avoiding boys with cooties. Stupid decisions didn’t cost people their lives. To be fair, her idiotic choice hadn’t killed anyone, just close.
Now’s not the time to think of past mistakes.
Entering the office, Kat shoved the thoughts away and plastered on a confident smile. “Hi, Katarina Jones to see Principal English.”
A perky brunette, whose face looked as sweet as the voice that greeted her over the intercom, bounced to the counter. “Ms. Jones, welcome. Principal English is in with a student, but it shouldn’t be too long. If you’d like to take a seat while you wait?” She gestured to the line of chairs. The wall of shame. “Can I get you a bottle of water or a cup of coffee?”
Kat declined the offer, took a seat, and picked up a newsletter to pass the time. The current happenings in all core classes, plus computers, art, and music for each grade were posted. A small sigh of envy escaped as she once again thought how lucky kids were. A young boy, whom she hadn’t noticed before, sat beside her, let out a louder sigh, and looked her way. If she had to guess she’d put him around fourth grade.
“What’d you do?” she asked.
“Beaned this jerk in my class with a spit wad to the head.”
“What did he do to you?”
“Nothing. He called Kira a fat cow.”
“Sounds like he deserved what he got.”
“Yeah, but my teacher didn’t think so. She said I was being a bully and now my dad’s going to get called down here.”
“Bet Kira thinks you’re a hero.”
“Think so?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Cool.”
A door opened and another student skulked out, head hung low, feet shuffling past them. He mumbled something that sounded like, “Good luck.” He was followed by a short, stout, steely-haired lady in a tweed skirt suit and sensible heels.
“Ms. Jones, come on back.” She speared a glance in the boy’s direction. “Isaac, your dad will be here shortly. We’ll talk then.”
Kat stopped, squatted down to get eye level with Isaac. “Sometimes standing up for someone doesn’t always go as we planned. Or maybe afterward, like now, it feels like the wrong choice. But the intention was in the right place and you may find out later that it was all worth everything.”
He sat a little taller with a contemplative look on his face. He’ll be all right, Kat thought as she rose and followed the principal into her office. A picture window with a perfect view of the playground took up the entire wall behind the behemoth desk. A handheld radio sat on the corner of the desk and Kat could picture the principal lounging in her chair, sipping coffee, and monitoring the outdoor activities. If she saw anything untoward all she had to do was pick up her radio and buzz the supervisors outside. It all felt a little Big Brother to Kat, but she could understand the need.
“Ms. Jones, I have to say your transcripts—elementary through college—are all very impressive, as are the personal references I’ve heard. Mrs. Monroe speaks very highly of you. Not so much about your business partner.”
A small laugh slipped. “She blames Lexie for interrupting her winning streak on the slots one day.”
“I have to ask, given your education and experience, why teach? What I mean is, you hold a master’s in criminal justice and you’ve got eight years’ experience in private investigations. Your business seems to be doing well—it wasn’t that long ago that you took down that would-be murderer and a fraud ring. Why would you want to give it all up to become an underpaid, overworked babysitter?”
The principal’s words appalled her. Kat sat back in her chair, collecting her thoughts to form an intelligent and positive response. How could a person think so little of their job and yet have risen so far in the field? True, teachers were paid way below their worth. But they did so much more than watch children. Maybe she was testing Kat?
“Actually, Lexie brought them down. I was in the hospital recovering from a car accident.” A sour lump filled her throat. She had to swallow a few times to find her voice. “While I enjoy . . . enjoyed being a detective, it’s not all that. There are drawbacks like crazy hours, dealing with low-lives on a regular basis, cold spells with no cases or income.”
She left off the parts about how dangerous the job could be and that she woke up more nights than not in a cold sweat reliving the car accident. Best not to sound mentally unstable on a job interview.
Sitting back in her black executive chair, Principal English studied her with an unyielding stare taking inventory of her every twitch. Man, I feel like confessing and I haven’t even done anything. Bet the kids fold like lawn chairs under her glare.
“Why do you want to teach?”
Before she could answer, the air cooled, indicating an unwanted visitor had arrived. Seconds later Vinnie stood next to the desk, shaking his head.
"Don't do this, Kat. She reminds me of a nun I had in third grade. Sister Mary Albert. Had a ruler obsession. Makes you wonder about her private life, if you know what I mean."
Kat glared at her spiritual guardian.
“Is there a problem, Ms. Jones?” Crap! Principal English thought she was aiming the look at her. Thanks for nothing, Vinnie. Guardian. More like a cursed poltergeist or whatever was sent from the netherworld to torment a person for all their supposed sins.
Vinnie tsked and disappeared. Ha, as if that would get him out of hot water. She’d wring his neck next time s
he saw him. Metaphorically, of course. She might be unbalanced, but she wasn’t stupid.
“Ms. Jones?”
The playground filled with children, some running to the jungle gym, others heading out to the field, and a few simply hanging together. A group of girls clustered, giggling and casting shy smiles toward a group of boys bouncing a basketball. Definitely the best of times.
“Truthfully, I find children refreshingly honest. They have no filters and say exactly what they think and feel.” Principal English’s pursed lips didn’t bode well. Perhaps Kat had been a bit too honest herself. “They’re also full of energy and enthusiasm to learn new things if presented correctly. What could be more rewarding than knowing you’re contributing to the future?”
“The position is temporary. You’d be substituting for our second-grade teacher who’ll be going out on maternity leave in two weeks. She plans to return after the winter break. And we have another second-grade teacher who will be going on maternity around that time. Are you interested?”
Kat hesitated. Was she interested? Was this the right thing? Should she wait until the beginning of the year? Crap, if she did that, whoever they found to fill this term would probably get that, and then she’d be stuck. The principal arched her brow, reminding Kat that she was waiting for an answer.
“Yes, I am.”
“It’s been a while since you did your student teaching gig. We’ll see if you still feel the same way in a month.”
Oh, man. What have I done?
“Thank you. Do you mind if I ask, what’s going to happen to Isaac?”
A small smile ghosted over the principal’s face. “We’ll talk about the correct way to handle bullies. I’ll send him back to class and then I’ll commend his dad for raising a good kid. We can always use more gentlemen.”
“Yes, we can.”
She handed Kat a stack of papers to fill out, explained she already had the background investigation completed, and because her fingerprints were already on file with the police, she was all set to start in two weeks.
Before the Dawn Page 4