by Pandora Pine
“What would have happened if you hadn’t been able to make it out to a fire scene? Or if you got stuck in traffic? Or were in an accident yourself on the way? People would have died because you had a secret and didn’t tell.” My stomach felt as if it were eating itself.
“I understand where you’re coming from, Ozzy, but none of that happened. I’d been able to make it to the fires to save those families. What worries me now, more than the prospect of a jail cell, is not being free to get the next message from the tipster.”
Christ, I hadn’t thought of that. With the type of technology in Chief Holland’s hands, I assumed he would be able to track the phone number and have the real arsonist arrested by midnight.
“This guy has been on the loose for almost a year now. No one has been able to catch him. Not the police, not the Fire Marshal, and not you. I know it isn’t your job to catch arsonists, but nothing anyone has done in this situation has brought his name out into the open.”
“You keep saying the arsonist is a man. It makes me think you know more than you’re telling me.” I was stepping onto shaky ground here.
“I think the arsonist is a man, because I can’t imagine a woman being coldhearted enough to nail a family inside their home and then set it on fire. You saw the nails that were used in that house. Singe marks on the metal showed how deep they had been pounded into the wood frame. I don’t think I have the energy necessary to pound one of those nails as deep as it was, never mind four of them. I also wasn’t tall enough to reach the fourth nail. I had to stand on tip toes to wiggle and then yank it out. There was no way I would have had enough leverage to hold the nail and bang it home.”
I had seen the nails, and where they had been placed in the doorjamb. It never occurred to me Deacon was too short to have hammered the top one. I only looked at it from the point of view of my own height. Just another reason why I was a firefighter, not a detective. “I don’t understand. The cops would have seen how high up that nail was, and would have known you couldn’t possibly have put it there.”
Deacon rolled his eyes. “Give me a break, Ozzy. You and I have both seen enough cop movies to know they would accuse me of having brought a stool or finding something around the scene of the fire to stand on. I also wasn’t tall enough to glue that second door shut, but that wouldn’t stop them from using the exact same reasoning. We both know if this were an episode of Law and Order, the cops would find nails, glue, and a stepstool in the trunk of my car.”
My memory flashed back to the gorilla glue laying on the floor of the backseat passenger side of Deacon’s car. Either he was the most talented compulsive liar in the world, or that glue had an innocent reason for being in his backseat.
The door to the interrogation room burst open. “Is that a confession, Mr. Fairbanks?” Chief Holland walked into the room. Behind him was Kennedy, who looked shell shocked. He was wearing a pair of black rubber gloves and carrying three plastic evidence bags. He walked to the table and set them down in front of us.
My heart sank. Sitting on the table in front of me was a hammer, a box of nails matching the ones from the Old Salem Road fire, and a bottle of Gorilla Glue. Sweet fucking Jesus. “Where did you get those things?”
There was a commotion in the hallway and before Kennedy could answer my question, Mason Burnett and my father were fighting their way into the room. “Don’t say a word, Deacon.” Burnett sounded angry enough to breathe fire. He turned to Kennedy and the police chief. “What the hell is this? Not only were you eavesdropping on my client, but you also barge in with unknown evidence without having shown it to me first. What kind of Mickey Mouse department are you running here, Holland?”
My father looked as angry as Burnett sounded. He worked his way around the room until he was standing behind Deacon. In that moment, I had a flashback to my childhood. I had to testify against my own biological father. In the middle of my testimony, Paul stood up and started shouting at me from the defendant table. He was yelling and screaming that he should have killed me.
Before I knew what was happening, David was out of his seat and running toward me. The bailiffs thought he was going after my biological father, but I knew David was heading toward me. His son. I remember feeling like I had the power to conquer the world with David McCoy at my back. I hope Deacon felt the same way. No matter how this situation turned out, David would be in Deacon’s corner for life.
“My men found the glue and the nails in the defendant’s car. I would say we have ourselves an open and shut case.” Chief Holland looked extremely proud of himself.
“Where is Deacon’s phone?” Burnett demanded. “I asked for it an hour ago, and no one has brought it to me yet.”
“What does it matter? Your client is obviously guilty.” Holland wore a shit-eating grin.
I wanted to punch the chief in his disgusting face. “When the real arsonist finds out you have Deacon in custody, there won’t be anyone getting tipped off the next time there’s a fire. Anyone else who dies after this is on your hands, Chief.”
“There isn’t going to be another fire, Captain Graves. The man who’s been starting all of them is sitting right in front of you.”
“And if he isn’t?” Kennedy asked. I could tell my brother had reached his limit. Kennedy was one of those types of men who could only stay silent so long in the face of injustice. “Are you willing to take responsibility for that, Chief?”
“You’re getting a bit above yourself, aren’t you, Captain Lynch?” Chief Holland sneered.
“Get the phone and trace the number of the person tipping Deacon off!” I demanded. I’d taken about all the bullshit I was going to take today.
“I’ll tell you what, Captain Graves, while I’m gone getting the phone, you can tell your little boyfriend all about our secret arrangement.” Holland’s smile was pure evil. If this were a horror movie, live spiders would have tumbled out of his mouth.
I felt all of the blood drain from my face. Everything was about to come undone, here and now.
“You know what I’m talking about, where you agreed to spy on Deacon Fairbanks to get us the information we needed to arrest him tonight?” With one last malicious grin, Holland crossed his arms over his chest.
Deacon gasped. I saw his gaze swing toward me. I knew he was questioning every single moment we’d spent together over the last few weeks. I knew he was wondering if my words of love were genuine or all part of Chief Holland’s plan.
“Okay, that’s it!” Kennedy grabbed the chief’s elbow and started dragging him out of the room.
“How dare you, Lynch! Get your hands off me!” Holland was yelling so loud it shook the two-way mirror in the room.
Burnett ran out of the room after them. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, boys. I promise.” With those words, David was out the door too.
I was alone with Deacon. He had gotten out of his seat and was now as far across the room from me as he could get.
“Sweetheart, let me explain.” I took a step toward him.
Both of his hands came up in front of him, as if to shield him from me. “Get out!”
“Deacon, just give me a minute to explain what happened. Chief Holland and Chief Higgins ordered me to find out if you were the arsonist. I was just following orders.” I knew instantly, from the look on his face, I’d said the wrong thing.
“Oh, so you were just following orders when you fucked me last night and told me you loved me, right?” Deacon’s hands were fisted at his sides. His blue eyes burned with fury.
I’d never heard Deacon use words like that before. I knew it was time to go but didn’t want to leave him like this. “I’m so sorry. I love you. You have to believe me.”
“Yeah, Ozzy, I believe you. Just like you believed me when I told you I didn’t have anything to do with these fires. Now get the fuck out!” Deacon pointed to the door. His index finger shook, but he wasn’t backing down.
Feeling like my entire life had just crumbled around my feet, I took o
ne last look at the love of my life and did exactly what he asked me to do.
28
Deacon
I was going to be arraigned in the morning. After the commotion died down, Kennedy came back to the interrogation room where I was being held. “It’s too late to take you to the Essex County Jail, so we’re keeping you here with us for the night. I can’t guarantee it will be comfortable, but you will have a cell to yourself. I’ll be with you the whole night. I already called Gunnar and told him not to wait up for me.”
The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of Ozzy’s brother, especially since I wanted to punch Ozzy in the face, but I wasn’t expecting this level of kindness from Kennedy or his parents. I got up from my seat and held my wrists behind my back for him to cuff me.
“That won’t be necessary. We all know you weren’t responsible for those fires. I just wish you had come to me or Ozzy with these tips you were getting.”
“I wish you or Ozzy had come to me with whatever had gone on in that meeting with the chiefs. You knew he’d been asked to spy on me, or gather evidence that would prove I was the arsonist. You both knew, but neither one of you said a word.” I took a deep breath, weighing my next words carefully. “I’m only saying anything to you because I think you’ll know where I’m coming from. My heart is so broken right now. I don’t know if I will ever recover from this.” There was a very real possibility I would be recovering from my heartbreak in a prison cell.
“I know you’re heartbroken. I won’t try to defend my brother. I’ll leave that up to him. What I will say, is that Ozzy is in love with you. I’ve known him since I was ten years old and he’s never felt like this about anyone in his life. He’s going to do whatever he can to get you out of here. We both are.” Kennedy took a look outside the door before moving back inside and closing it behind him. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
I did what Kennedy asked. I knew he was on my side, but I was going to have to watch what I said. He was still duty-bound to report anything that could be considered evidence against me.
“Do you have any idea who is sending you these tips about the fires?” Kennedy was back in cop-mode with his notebook at the ready.
“It’s the one thing I’ve been thinking about day and night. My assumption is that it’s a concerned citizen who maybe knows the arsonist. Someone like his wife or child, who wants him stopped, but doesn’t want him to go to jail.”
Kennedy seemed to think over what I had told him. “Did you ever consider it might be the arsonist himself sending you the tips?”
My mouth hung open. To be honest, I’d never considered the arsonist being the tipster. “Why would he be the one sending me clues?”
“That’s really the big question here, isn’t it? It could be that he has a heart after all and doesn’t want the people living in the houses he torches to die. Maybe this person really likes you or wants to get your attention, and figures what better way than to get you front and center into these stories.” Kennedy was quiet. He nibbled his bottom lip.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” I didn’t like the direction this was going.
“Yeah, there is. The theory I can’t seem to shake is what’s playing out right here in front of us. Whoever this person is, set it up to look like you were the one committing these crimes.”
Sweet baby cheeses. “Who hates me enough to set me up for this? Between the arson counts and the number of people who’ve died in these fires, I could get life in prison if I were convicted.”
Kennedy nodded. “I was thinking the same thing myself. A simple Google search will give you information about first-degree arson charges in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. It’s highly likely the arsonist knows what’s at stake here just as much as we do.”
“If I am being set up, how do we combat that? The chief of police already thinks I’m guilty, how do we convince him otherwise?” I’d been so hopeful when I was telling my attorney about the arson tipster, but now I was starting to feel like the one who was going to get burned here was me.
“Leave that to me. The results of the fingerprint analysis on the bottle of glue, nails, and the hammer found in your car should be back by tomorrow morning. When they reveal someone else’s prints, instead of your own, I’ll speak to the DA and the chief.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, Kennedy, but what will speaking to them do to help us find the arsonist?” As much as I’d covered these arsons over the past year, there were still a lot of things I didn’t understand about the judiciary system. If Kennedy’s plan didn’t work, I had a feeling I was about to get a crash course, firsthand.
“I hate to say this, Deacon, but I want to use you as human bait.”
“You mean you’re hoping my being released from jail will lure him out of hiding, since he got what he wanted with me being accused of the crimes he’s been committing?”
“Exactly. Since it was his plan all along to frame you, we don’t have to worry about another fire being lit because that would defeat the purpose. He’s already got you right where he wants you.”
I wasn’t exactly sure I was with Kennedy on this one. “Yeah, but if I’m released from jail and another fire is started that will just be proof I did it.”
“You’re forgetting about the ankle monitor. The GPS in the monitor will show you were nowhere near the fire scene when the fire was started.”
“Unless my house is the next one to be burned to the ground, with me trapped inside.” I shivered at the thought. If Kennedy was right and someone was looking to frame me, I had no idea why. “I’m completely on board with the idea of you thinking this is a frame job. The only problem with that is we don’t know the arsonist’s endgame. Does he want me to suffer? Does he want me to die too? Did he know I would be arrested and then released?”
“I know I asked you this question before, but there’s no one in your life who would want revenge against you for one reason or another?”
“My mind has been going over the people I’ve known in my life since you mentioned the idea of a set up. Back in school, I was one of those invisible kids, someone who managed to blend into the background and not make much of a fuss. I wrote for the school newspaper and was on the student council. Ditto for my years in college at Northeastern. I wrote for the newspaper and spent the bulk of my time in the library. I had a couple of one-night stands, but parting ways at the end was always mutual. There was never anyone who wanted more than I was willing to give.”
“What about at the newspaper? Is there anyone who thinks you’ve taken their assignments or that you were promoted ahead of them? Anything like that?”
I sighed. “Kennedy, I’m a good man. I spent the bulk of my life trying to help other people with my words. I’ve never known of anyone who had something against me, either personally or professionally. The idea that someone hates me enough to want to see me arrested and sent to prison boggles my mind.” I could feel my emotions rising again and was just too tired to keep stuffing them down. I shut my eyes when tears started trickling down my face.
Kennedy’s chair shifted backward. A moment later, I felt his hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Deacon. We’re going to help you through it. I promise.”
I somehow managed to pull myself back together. I figured it was better to cry here in front of Kennedy than it would be to lose it in my cell. My body shivered. I’d just referred to the jail cell as mine.
“I hate to say this, but I have to take you back to your cell. I’ll be by with breakfast in the morning. I’ll be here all night, just in case you need anything.”
I stood up and walked with heavy steps toward the door. Catching a glimpse of myself in the two-way mirror, I saw a man with a slouched posture looking like he didn’t have a hope in the world. I didn’t want anyone, including myself, to see me that way. I stood tall, with my shoulders back and my head up. “I’m ready.”
“Don’t make me regret not putting the
cuffs on you.” Kennedy grinned and led me out into the hallway.
I kept my eyes forward, not looking directly at anyone we passed in the hallway. The jail cells were in the back. Three of them sat side-by-side. All of them were empty. Kennedy led me to the last one. Pulling out his keys, he unlocked the door and swung it open.
The door creaked on its hinges, giving me the creeps. With my head still held high, I took my last breath as a free man and stepped into the cell. I kept my back to the door as Kennedy swung it shut and locked it. The sound of the tumblers turning chilled me to the bone. If Kennedy and Ozzy weren’t able to figure out who was trying to frame me, living in a cell with bars was going to be my new way of life.
29
Ozzy
Spending the night tossing and turning did not improve my disposition. I kept going back and forth between being angry and heartsick. One thing had become crystal clear overnight. I had no business being angry at Deacon for keeping a secret when I’d been keeping one of my own.
I was angry at myself for not having taken a few minutes to tell Deacon what was going on thanks to my meeting with the chiefs of police and fire department. I had a feeling if I had confessed my secret, he most likely would have done the same.
It was all water under the bridge now. Deacon was being arraigned this morning on three charges of first-degree arson. Mason Burnett had called early this morning to ask if I was going to be there. He said Deacon would have a better chance at being given bail if he had pillars of the community in his corner. A fire captain would certainly fit the bill.
My father had texted around the same time as Burnett to tell me he’d just brought breakfast to Deacon in jail. Seeing the word “jail” was still a shock to my system. I’m sure it was to Deacon as well. I’d texted back to ask how Deacon looked, and my father told me to come to the courthouse and find out.
It wasn’t like my father to play head games, but I knew where he was coming from. Deacon was the chick in danger at the moment. All of my parents’ energy was focused on rescuing him. The rest of us would have to fly or fall without them.