“Well, I guess I hadn’t thought about it before, but he was acting funny. Real jittery-like. I mean, we were all keyed up, so I don’t know why he stuck out, but he did. I thought he seemed upset, so I asked if he was doing alright.”
Raising an eyebrow, Darger gave her a knowing look.
“What?”
“Your gut knew something was off, even if you didn’t yet.”
A disbelieving scoff told Darger what Beck thought of that.
“Now you’re making it out like I’m some kind of psychic or something.”
“No. I’m just saying you sensed it, however faintly.”
Beck folded her hands over her protruding belly and pursed her lips.
“Everyone’s acting like I’m some kind of Sherlock, but it was just dumb luck.”
Darger’s fingers moved furiously over the screen.
“You had to put all the pieces together. You’ve done jigsaw puzzles with your kids, I bet. You don’t assemble it with luck. You use your perception, your intuition. So yeah, you are some kind of Sherlock.”
Beck’s face flushed, a pinkness showing on her cheeks, but Darger kept typing.
“So is that when you started digging?” Darger asked. “After he mentioned being in Yucaipa way back when?”
“Heck no! It didn’t even cause so much as a single hair to stand on end. I thought nothing of it.”
“Until?”
“Until he got a call from his mother. She was giving him a bunch of guff about not gassing up the car. Sounded like she was talking to a kid more than a grown man, which struck me funny. I didn’t know why, at first. I mean, beyond the fact that at some point you need to cut the apron strings, you know? And then I remembered that in your profile, you said he might still live with a parent.”
Beck took a breath, adjusting her pregnant bulk in the chair.
“Obviously, I couldn’t just ask him something like that. It’s awfully personal. Besides that, my first instinct was to tell myself I was being paranoid. But my mind started going backward from there. I thought about him driving her car and wondered, what if that’s what he uses when he’s starting fires? Something unfamiliar to anyone that knows him. Something that wouldn’t come up if you were searching vehicles owned by firemen and law enforcement.”
Darger nodded.
“So that’s when I looked up his mother’s vehicle registration. Found a dark brown Buick Enclave. My heart was already pounding a little when my deputy told me that, but there was something else. We got a big traffic safety grant a few years back. The county put in a handful of traffic cams at our busiest intersections. Guess whose license plate got logged for running a red light in Yucaipa on the 4th of September?”
“The day of the church fire?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s when I got the willies, like a big ol’ spider had just crept up my spine.”
“So you went to Chief Macklin then?”
Beck shook her head.
“No, because after that I was afraid to let Klootey out of my sight. He’d been squirrelly the whole time, even more so once it became clear they were attempting a rescue mission. When he heard they were sending in a chopper, I could see on his face that he was thinking about running.”
“He must have thought I’d figured him out. Or would soon,” Darger typed. She sighed which caused her to wince in pain. “But I’m not so sure I would have.”
“Of course you would. I only figured it out because of you. Because of your profile.”
Darger shrugged noncommittally.
“What happened after you cuffed him?”
“He froze at first. I think it took him a minute to realize what was happening. And then he started to make a real fuss. I got pretty nervous, being surrounded by a bunch of his buddies, you know? That’s when I said we’d better call for their Chief.”
Darger said nothing, waiting for Beck to continue her story.
“He didn’t much like what I had to say. Not until I showed him the traffic cam shot of Klootey in the Buick. Once he saw that, he got on the horn and got a warrant to search both the mother’s vehicle and Klootey’s bike. The Harley was clean, since there’s not much you can stash on a bike, I guess, but the Buick had a little pyro kit in it. A five-gallon can of gasoline, some empty plastic bottles, matches, a ripped up t-shirt, and some scissors. All pretty innocent on their own, but together…”
“He’ll still try to claim it’s all just some junk his mom left in there,” Darger said.
“Oh I’m sure he will. But by then, they’ll have searched everything. His house, his locker down at the station, his phone, his internet search history. He’s not nearly as bright as he thinks he is. I bet he left bits of evidence all over the damn place. We’ll find them.”
Epilogue
By the time she was discharged four days later, Darger had regained the ability to speak without turning into a gagging, coughing mess.
Her first destination was her hotel room for a change of clothes that didn’t reek of smoke. The outfit she’d been wearing in the fire went straight in the trash.
Her second stop was the county jail. Beck had sounded shocked when Darger told her where she was headed.
“Your first taste of freedom after what you went through, and you want to go sit in a hard chair in a starkly lit room with Thomas James Klootey? Go to the beach and get an ice cream cone or something. Geez.”
But Darger knew what she needed and that was to sit down with Klootey face to face. To look at the man who had fooled her and so many others and see him for what he really was.
Her voice was still raspy, and it hurt like hell to talk, but it would be worth it. She wanted to be the one to hammer the final nail into the coffin. For her, but also for Luck.
She signed in at the jail, stowing her weapon and valuables in a locker. When she entered the private visitation room, Klootey was already there, along with a wiry-haired man in a brown suit she figured for his lawyer.
He didn’t even wait until she had the door closed before he started in on his objections.
“I don’t know who arranged this little sit-down, but they didn’t clear it with me. If they had, I could have saved everyone a lot of time, because my client isn’t talking to you.”
“Well that’s not really up to you, is it?” Darger asked, taking a chair across the table from the two men. Beck had been right, too. The chair sucked.
The lawyer blinked at her from behind a pair of glasses.
“Excuse me?”
“You can advise your client not to talk. That’s all good and fine. But Klootey’s the one who ultimately decides whether he’ll talk to me or not.” Darger let her gaze shift to the ruddy-cheeked man in the chair beside the attorney. “What do you think, T.J.? Do you want to hide behind your lawyer, or do you want to talk?”
Klootey’s eyes narrowed to slits. She hoped the suggestion that he was hiding would goad him into opening his big stupid mouth. She didn’t have to wait long.
“Sure, I’ll talk to you, Agent Darger,” he said, spreading his hands wide. “Because I have nothing to hide.”
“I strongly advise against this,” the lawyer protested, but Klootey waved him away.
“It’s all a frame job anyway.”
Darger raised an eyebrow.
“You were framed? By who?”
Klootey shrugged.
“Could be you for all I know,” he said. “Every piece of evidence you’ve got is shady as hell. Not to mention circumstantial.”
“Maybe at first, but not now.”
She waited a beat before she gave him more.
“We’ve got prints.”
“Fingerprints?” Klootey asked, then scoffed. “Bullshit. It’s nearly impossible to get prints from a fire scene. Nearly all of the deposits left are destroyed by the fire. Anything that might remain is usually further destroyed by water when the fire crews show up.”
Darger smiled. Even now, he couldn’t resist trying to prove how fucking smart
he was.
“See, if I were sitting where you are, that wouldn’t be my argument. My argument would be that whatever prints you found can’t be mine, because I wasn’t there.”
“I’m just presenting scientific facts, Agent. Nothing more, nothing less,” he said in an overly patient manner. “But if it makes you feel better, the prints ain’t mine, because I wasn’t there.”
She almost laughed then. He thought he was clever. So clever.
“Oh, I forgot to mention that part… the prints aren’t from one of the fires. And they’re not yours.”
She watched him try to blink away his confusion.
“You’re talkin’ nonsense,” he said.
Darger pulled the photograph of Carl Tanner from the manila folder and slid it over to Klootey. She watched his face for a reaction, saw what she thought was fear in his eyes before he quickly covered it.
“Who’s this?”
“You don’t recognize him?"
He sniffed and wiped at his nose.
“I’ve never seen this guy before in my life.”
“Well then, allow me to introduce you,” Darger said. “This is Carl Tanner. We pulled his prints from the Buick. Ran them through AFIS and got lucky. Ol’ Carl here served a bit of time for burglary and drug possession.”
Klootey’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.
“He also matches the demographics of our John Doe from the dumpster fire. And boy, did we just hit the jackpot there. See, Carl has a sister. And she made sure that Carl here got in to see a dentist every few years, because one time he had an abscess that almost killed him. She didn’t want that to happen again.”
Klootey stared her down, suddenly seeming to lose his gift of the gab.
“It’s funny. I’ll bet you thought you picked someone no one would miss. You assumed that some homeless guy you picked up on Skid Row wouldn’t have a family. Wouldn’t have anyone that cared that he was gone. But you were wrong.”
She could see the muscles along his jaw moving now, clenching and unclenching.
“And you were stupid,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “You were so sure you’d get away with it that you didn’t bother wiping down mommy’s car.”
Nostrils flaring, Klootey finally spoke.
“I’m done,” he said, turning to his lawyer. “I want this bitch out of here.”
Darger only smiled. She plucked the photograph of Carl Tanner from the table and returned it to the folder.
“Oh that’s fine. I was pretty much done,” she said, getting to her feet. “Really, I just wanted to come down and be the first to wish you the best of luck on your one-way trip to Chino.”
Klootey’s eyes watered now, tears of rage.
“Fuck you.”
Darger was already at the door. She stopped, pretending to wince.
“Oof. I’d work on my manners, if I were you. It’s gonna be hard enough making friends in prison, being a cop and all.”
And then she was out of the room, walking down the hall.
* * *
Darger returned to the hospital after her talk with Klootey, taking the stairs to the ICU. She was out of breath by the time she reached the nurse’s station, and her lungs felt like they were on fire. The doctors had warned her it would take time to recover from the smoke inhalation, but she hadn’t expected to get her ass kicked by a single flight of stairs.
She recognized the charge nurse on duty behind the desk. Her name was Jackie, and she’d been Darger’s nurse the night she was brought in.
“I thought they kicked you out this morning,” Jackie said, smiling.
“They did. But I wanted to bring by a little token of my appreciation,” Darger said, dropping a box of donuts onto the desk.
Jackie groaned at the sight of them.
“Get those out of here,” she said. “I’m supposed to be starting that damn keto diet today.”
Darger flipped the lid of the box open.
“Start tomorrow.”
“Fuck it,” Jackie said, grabbing a donut. “If I cave before I’ve barely started, I’ll never make it.”
Darger chose a cinnamon sugar donut and took a bite.
“Any updates?”
“He’s still stable,” Jackie said. “If you want more information than that, you can get it from his family. They’re in there now.”
Darger nodded, popping the last of her donut into her mouth and dusting the sugar from her fingers.
All of the rooms in the ICU had glass walls with curtains for privacy. The curtains on Luck’s room were open, and she could see Luck’s former in-laws and his daughter seated inside. She paused at the doorway and knocked.
Claudia, his ex-mother-in-law, stood and came to the door.
“Hello again, Agent Darger.”
No matter how many times she’d asked Claudia to call her Violet, the woman refused.
“How is he?”
“Mostly the same. They did another bronchoscopy this morning, though, and the doctor was pleased with the results, so we’re counting today as a good day.”
“Well, I’m just here for a quick visit, if that’s OK.”
“Of course.” Claudia glanced at her husband and granddaughter.
Jill sat on her grandfather’s lap, a book in her hands.
“We were just talking about going down to the cafeteria. Jill spotted an ice cream machine yesterday.”
“Please don’t leave on my account,” Darger said, but it was too late. At the mention of ice cream, Jill had leaped to her feet and was already tugging her grandfather toward the door.
“Come on, Grandpa. Do-it-yourself sundaes, remember?”
Claudia smiled.
“No, it’s good that you’re here, actually. I feel better leaving when I know there’s someone else to sit with him.” On her way out the door, she patted Darger’s shoulder. “Talk to him, if you can. They say it helps.”
When they’d left, it seemed to Darger that all of the sounds in the room were amplified. The whoosh of the ventilator. The steady beep of the heart rate monitor. A series of clicks and whirs from a piece of equipment she couldn’t identify.
Luck’s face was puffy and red, and stepping closer, she could see where patches of his hair had been singed by the fire. The blistered spots on his nose and cheeks were starting to heal, at least.
She took his hand in hers and stared down at her friend, wondering why she’d been able to walk away from the fire when he hadn’t.
Sometimes when they caught the bad guy, it felt like they’d righted something. Like some wrong in the universe had been put right. Order restored.
Other times, she found it difficult to reconcile the fact that such disorder should be allowed at all. That a monster like Klootey could sow such destruction with so few repercussions. The man had killed twenty-eight people and wounded countless others, and yet he walked, talked, laughed, lied, ate, and breathed while Luck was here in this room, clinging to life by a thread, unable to do any of those things.
Darger’s eyes filled with tears at the injustice of it. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself.
“I saw him today,” she said out loud. “Klootey, I mean. Beck was right. He thinks he’s quite a bit more clever than he is. And he loves to talk. I’m hoping he’ll talk himself right into a life sentence.”
She sighed.
“Of course, his lawyer will probably try to keep him off the stand, but I don’t think Klootey will be able to abide that. The attention he’d get from testifying will be too tempting for him. He’ll see it as his chance to tell his version of the story. The version where he’s the hero.” She swallowed. “No, I don’t think he’ll be able to resist.”
Darger’s gaze landed on the fresh cast on Luck’s ankle, which had already been thoroughly decorated by his daughter. She spotted an orange cat, some clouds, and a unicorn.
“Your daughter is quite the artist,” she said. “When it’s time for the cast to come off,
I think you should save it.”
She squeezed his hand then. If anything should stir him, she figured it would be talk of Jill. But nothing happened. It was expected, but no less disappointing.
“I fly back to Quantico tonight,” she said, her voice hoarse from more than just the talking. “So I guess this is goodbye. For now.”
Still holding his hand in hers, she leaned forward to kiss his forehead.
She was about to let go, was about to turn away and leave, but something kept her there for another few seconds.
And then she swore she felt something. The slightest twitch of the fingers she held entwined with hers.
“Luck?”
She squeezed his hand again, waited, waited.
His fingers didn’t move this time, but when she glanced at Casey Luck’s face, his eyes were open.
Author's Note
Thanks so much for reading Night on Fire! Want more Darger books? Leave a review, and let us know.
- A Note From the Authors -
In a way, I've been on the path toward writing this series since 1995 when I read Red Dragon by Thomas Harris. It not only scarred my impressionable psyche, it also made me want to spend the rest of my life writing creepy stuff.
So this is our delve into the murky waters of the serial killer thriller. Not many books do the genre justice, I'm afraid, but I can promise you that we put our hearts into it. I can't wait to hear what you think.
I'm excited to report that we've got a lot more Violet Darger headed your way. More Loshak, too.
But that's where you come in.
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Violet Darger (Book 6): Night On Fire Page 31