Fire Storm

by Nancy Mehl

  “Look, Jason,” she said, “this is a pattern. If these were all accidents, this pattern shouldn’t be here.” Kaely tapped her finger in the middle of the ring of fires. “This is probably where the UNSUB lives or works.” She frowned at her brother. “Of course, it’s just conjecture at this point. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but my gut tells me there may be a problem. If I’m reading this right, the next fire will be here.” She pointed to an area of the map just north of her mother’s home.

  Jason frowned at the map. “I see what you’re saying, but if Sam doesn’t think these fires were purposely set . . .”

  “Sometimes we don’t see things because we’re not looking for them.” Kaely slipped back into her chair. “Again, I’m not certain. I’m just saying I find it suspicious.”

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Marcie snapped. She grabbed her plate and carried it over to the sink. “I’m going to my room.”

  Kaely started to call her back, but Jason grabbed her arm and shook his head. She waited until Marcie left before saying, “I didn’t take time off work to come here and upset her.”

  Jason took a drink and then put his glass down. He frowned at her. “Just why did you come here, Kaely?”

  Surprised by his question, Kaely stuttered, “I-I came be-because . . .”

  “Because you felt you had to?”

  She leaned toward her brother. “I came because you asked me to. Because you needed me. And you’re right. I honestly don’t want to be here. Don’t get me wrong, I want this to work out. But I have to wonder what good it’s doing her to have me hanging around when she wishes I was back in St. Louis.”

  Jason sighed. “I know. I’ve had the same thoughts.” He peered at her through narrowed eyes. “You’re the expert. What’s your analysis?”

  “It’s not you. Or me,” Kaely said slowly. “She’s building walls.” She knew the psychology of trauma. Had studied it. Had lived it.

  Correction. Was still living it.

  “It’s like I said before,” Jason said. “I don’t think she really wants to shut us out. Truthfully, I think her mind just can’t cope with everything she’s been through.”

  Kaely understood what her brother was saying. As a Christian she knew she should try to help her mother, but she wasn’t sure she was capable of giving Marcie what she needed. Her heart was still full of animosity, and she had no idea how to get rid of it.

  six

  Look, let’s put our dysfunction aside for a while,” Kaely said. “Can we get back to the fires?”

  Jason wasn’t so easily swayed. “Kaely, do you think Mom knew about Dad? About what he was doing?”

  She shook her head. “No. That’s one thing I’m sure of. She had no idea. I still remember her face when the FBI stormed the house and arrested him.”

  “You know, even after all this time, it’s still hard for me to believe none of us suspected him.”

  “Not a new story, I’m afraid,” Kaely said. “Look at BTK. Dennis Rader was active in his church. By all accounts he was a loving husband and father. His wife and daughter had no clue. Psychopaths have a way of compartmentalizing everything. Their regular lives exist in one part of their personalities, and their other lives fit neatly somewhere else. If they keep them separate, they can justify the evil deeds they commit.”

  “What you do, Kaely, does it help you understand Dad?”

  Kaely shrugged. “Yes and no. I understand the psychology, but there’s a part of me that can’t accept Dad would trade life with us for . . . that.” She picked up her glass and stared at it as if there were answers floating inside. “I’ve been taught that people like Dad feel compelled. Drawn by something larger than themselves. Rader called it ‘Factor X.’ I’m sure our father would tell you he felt the same thing. He was tortured by a compulsion he couldn’t control—or says he couldn’t anyway.”

  “You don’t believe that?”

  Kaely leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “In some ways I do, but I have a problem with anyone who says they can’t help themselves when they’re able to hide what they’re doing. Lie to protect themselves. Stop if the police get too close. That means they are able to exert some power over their actions.”

  “Do you believe in demons, Kaely?” Jason lowered his voice as if someone else was listening.

  “You mean do I attribute Factor X to demonic influence?” Kaely hesitated. “Yes, of course, but that’s something I keep to myself. Some people in the Bureau already think I’m insane. Telling them I think demons are speaking to some of these twisted killers could get me tossed out of the FBI for good.” She frowned. “In the end, what I do has nothing to do with the spiritual condition of an UNSUB. I follow patterns. Statistical possibilities. No matter who the UNSUB is, they still need to fit the profiles I come up with. I simply try to help the authorities narrow the field. After these monsters are locked up, they’ll get the chance to speak to ministers who do prison work. Several rather notorious serial killers have found God while behind bars.”

  Jason tapped his fingers on the tabletop, not looking at his sister. Something was bothering him. Kaely waited.

  “Have . . . have you ever thought about visiting Dad?”

  “No. Never.” Kaely’s words were hurled at her brother like bullets from an automatic weapon. She wanted nothing to do with their father. Had promised herself she would never see him again.

  “But, Kaely, we both have God in our lives now. Shouldn’t we try to witness to him?”

  “Sorry, Jason, but I won’t do it. I don’t want that man in my head again. If you feel you need to go visit him, do it. I won’t be upset. But I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “As Christians don’t we have the responsibility to tell him about God’s forgiveness?”

  “Like I said, there are ministries that work with prisoners. Let them deal with him.”

  “But—”

  “I can’t talk about this now, Jason.” She started to stand up.

  Jason took her arm and gently pulled her back down. “Stay. We don’t have to talk about Dad anymore. We can focus on figuring out those fires.” He stared at the map for several seconds. “I’m not sure I see what you do, but if you’re right . . . I mean, what can we do?”

  “Well, first of all, the local authorities need to consider that these fires could be more than unintentional incidents. They need to look closely for evidence that this is arson, but until they do and open an investigation, there’s nothing that can be done.” She paused for a moment. “You mentioned there was a firefighter who lived nearby? Sam?”

  “Yeah. Sam Lucas. He lives a few doors down. He’s been really kind to Mom ever since she moved here. Would you like to talk to him?”

  Kaely nodded. “That would be great. But don’t tell him I’m with the Bureau. In fact, please don’t tell anyone. I have no authority to look into this in an official capacity.”

  “Okay. I’ll give him a call in the morning.”

  Kaely picked up her glass of tea and took a few gulps. Her mouth was dry from talking so much. “Enjoy my room at the B-and-B.”

  Jason got up from his chair. “Oh, I will. Trust me. Here.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans, took out a key, and handed it to her.

  “It’s like I’m experiencing one of my nightmares,” Kaely said as she slipped the key into her own pocket. She laughed, but there was a grain of truth in her comment. Living at home with her mother again. Kaely was slightly terrified, but she wasn’t sure why. She swallowed back her fear and helped Jason clean up the kitchen.

  As he drove away, she waved good-bye. Kaely locked the front door and headed down the hallway. Even though this wasn’t the house where her family had lived, ghosts of the past whirled around her, trying to get her attention. It was getting harder and harder to push them away.

  seven

  After taking a shower, Kaely stopped by her mother’s room. The door was closed, so Kaely opened it slightly, wanting to make sure Marcie d
idn’t need anything. She was lying in bed, snoring softly. Kaely left the door open a crack so she could hear if Marcie called for help during the night. Kaely had just crawled under the covers when Georgie appeared, sitting on the end of the bed.

  “This isn’t going well,” she said. “You know that.”

  “I can keep my emotions in check,” Kaely retorted.

  Georgie’s brown curls wiggled as she shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s true, hon.”

  Kaely rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m a Christian. I have to forgive. Why am I having such a hard time?”

  “You think being a Christian means you’re never allowed to be angry or hurt?”

  “I don’t know,” Kaely said softly.

  “No one can hide their feelings forever,” Georgie said. “Sooner or later they’re going to force their way out into the open. How you deal with them makes the difference.”

  “You think I should try to have an honest discussion with my mother?” Kaely shook her head. “That won’t work. She won’t talk to me.”

  “And why is that?”

  Kaely sighed. “Because she’s trying to hold it all inside too. And that’s why she—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Georgie disappeared. It was too obvious to ignore. Kaely and her mother were going through the same thing—and reacting exactly alike. Maybe Kaely wasn’t feeling sorry for herself the way Marcie was, but their similarities were disconcerting. They really needed to talk. But could Marcie do that? Kaely would hate it if her mother died with this animosity between them. Kaely closed her eyes and prayed, asking God to help them bridge the gap. To bring healing to their relationship.

  She lay in bed a long time, thinking about the books on the shelves next to her. They brought back memories of climbing under her sheets with a flashlight, reading into the early morning hours.

  She pulled up the covers, grateful for the nightlight stuck into an outlet on the wall. She wasn’t usually afraid of the dark, but in this room, it was as if she could feel specters hiding in the shadows, ghosts of herself at different ages. She remembered the night she couldn’t sleep with her favorite teddy bear because Mom had to wash it. When she finally got it back, Boo Bear seemed different somehow. It was years later before she found out that her old bear had come apart in the washing machine. Her parents had searched almost every store in Des Moines looking for the same bear. Her father finally found it in a small toy store on the edge of town. When he slipped it into Kaely’s arms she didn’t question the differences. She trusted it was Boo Bear because her father told her it was. The memory gurgled around inside her like molten lava. She threw off the covers and sat up in bed, determined not to allow the past to ensnare her.

  She’d worn sweat pants and her FBI sweat shirt to bed. The sweat shirt hugged her like an old friend, reminding her who she was now—not a little girl who needed a stuffed bear to feel safe, but a trained FBI agent who didn’t need anyone else to protect her.

  She unzipped her suitcase and took out her laptop, then crossed the room to the desk. After grabbing another one of her PayDays, she pulled up the local newspaper online and began searching through past issues. The fires were all on the front page, which made sense in a town this small. She discovered a clearer picture of the local fire chief. He was a good-looking African-American man with intense eyes and a determined expression. Probably in his forties. That surprised her. For some reason she’d thought he’d be older. She got her notebook and wrote down his name. Fire Chief Tuck Reynolds.

  In an article from about a month ago, the chief urged homeowners to make certain their space heaters were safe. There was a list of recommendations to ensure a good outcome. Kaely was surprised by the long list of safety rules. Her parents had used space heaters when she and Jason were young, and she was pretty sure they hadn’t followed all these suggestions.

  Never leave them unattended. Keep them three feet from everything, including drapes, clothing, and bedding. Make sure they’re approved by an independent testing lab. Use near a smoke alarm. Make sure they’re the right size for the room. Place on a hard, flat surface. Don’t use with extension cords.

  Kaely gulped at this one. Extension cords had been a source of pride for her father when she was young. The more things he plugged into one cord, the better. The article gave at least five other warnings. Maybe the fires weren’t that suspicious. Frankly, after reading the article, Kaely was pretty sure she and Jason were only alive by the grace of God. Kaely closed the article while promising herself she would never, ever buy a space heater.

  She opened her candy bar and took a big bite. Then she looked again at the map of the fires. Was she just seeing what she wanted to? Could she be manufacturing something to take her mind off being with her mother? Or was there actually an uncomfortable pattern here?

  She searched online for a local TV news station to see if she could learn anything else. It took a while to find KMVP, a station out of Valentine, a city not too far from Darkwater. The words Breaking News flashed across her screen. Kaely clicked on them, and a female reporter appeared. Kaely turned up the volume on her laptop.

  “We have a report of another fire in Darkwater. We’ve sent a crew and will report more details when we have them. All we know right now is that the fire department has been called to a home in the northern part of the city. Fire crews are on the scene. We’ll update you when we can.”

  The north part of town. Her mom’s house was on the north side. Kaely turned the volume down and listened. Sure enough, she could hear the whine of sirens outside. She quickly finished her candy bar, then pulled on her boots and grabbed her coat and purse. After putting on her coat, she walked carefully down the hallway toward the front door. First, she looked in on her mother once again. Still sound asleep.

  She checked for the house key Jason had given her. After locating it, she slowly opened the front door and slipped out, closing it behind her. She double-checked, making sure it was locked. Then she got into her car and backed out of the driveway without headlights. When she was safely in the street, she flicked them on and headed toward the area of town where she was fairly sure the fire would be. The thought skirted through her mind that maybe she shouldn’t have left her mother alone, but she wouldn’t be gone long. Marcie probably wouldn’t even know she’d left. It was probably better to let her sleep.

  It wasn’t hard to find the fire. All she had to do was follow the police cars rushing past her, lights and sirens blaring. When she arrived near the scene, she could see the flames dancing in the dark. The water from the firefighters’ hoses caused the flames to sizzle and jump, as if trying to escape extinction.

  Kaely parked her car on the street and walked down the sidewalk toward the fire. She could flash her creds here and try to get closer, but she was from another state and had no authority in Nebraska. Besides, unless the FBI was called in, the local fire and police departments would handle this on their own. Her credentials wouldn’t help her tonight.

  The location of the fire confirmed her suspicions. In her experience, arsonists picked sites away from their own homes, but still in their comfort zone. Places where they felt they could get in and out safely. Although reliable profiles were sketchy and prone to embellishment by those being interviewed, most serial arsonists were young white males. Almost eighty percent of them set fires before they were twenty-nine. Most of them had poor interpersonal relationships, along with a large number of previous arrests. Only one-third had regular jobs. Serial arsonists tended to have distant relationships with their parents and might even be aggressive toward them.

  But the part of the study that had propelled Kaely outside on a freezing winter night was the fact that nearly a third of serial arsonists liked to show up at the scene and enjoy the fruit of their labor. She wasn’t there to see the fire.

  She was there to see the person who set the fire.

  Anger is breath. Anger is life. Rage is everything. He watches the emerg
ency vehicles descend upon the scene, their lights bouncing around the neighborhood like some crazed disco ball. Firefighters jump down from their engines, everyone with a job to do, working like a well-oiled machine. But it won’t be enough.

  As they inch closer and closer, the fire storm greedily laps up another home. Another special family. He laughs. He controls the fire. He controls everything.

  And no one can stop him.

  No one.

  eight

  Kaely kept her distance from the looky-loos gathered to watch the drama unfolding in their neighborhood. Mothers stood clutching children, their coats thrown over pajamas, their feet shoved into shoes without socks. Husbands and fathers gathered together as close as they could get to the barrier set up by the police, who’d cordoned off the area and stood their ground, determined to enforce the perimeter.

  Kaely could hear the men discussing their opinions about the fire. Most felt it was electrical and explained their theories based on their knowledge of faulty wiring and the way homes were built nowadays. The remaining men stood and listened, trying to look as if they understood every word being said. Kaely smiled to herself. She could tell which guys actually knew something about the subject and which ones were clueless. Of course, they nodded along, afraid to breach the bond of male superiority when it came to all things electrical.

  Kaely found it interesting that no one brought up the possibility that a space heater might have started this fire. She assumed the men naturally felt this blaze had to have been caused by something else, since the probability was astronomical that a space heater had caused another fire. Without realizing it, they’d made it clear something was amiss in Darkwater. As the men talked, their warm breath created an effect akin to smoke. It almost looked as if they were on fire themselves.