“You’ve had the day from hell, haven’t you?” When she glared at him through slitted lids, he chuckled. Grasping her arm, he pulled her over to the students’ workstations and pushed her into an empty chair.
“What are you doing? I don’t have time for . . . ohhhhhhhhhhh . . .” Her groan bordered on sensual as Matt’s hands settled on her shoulders, skillfully massaging the tight knots under her skin. “Maybe I have time after all.” Her eyelids fluttered closed.
“You want us to come back in a few minutes?” There was a smile in Paul’s voice and he winked at Kiko and Juka.
“No, I want you to tell Leigh what you’ve been up to since we got back to the lab.”
Leigh’s body went stiff under Matt’s hands as her eyes flew open and she braced her hands on the arms of the chair, ready to spring. Steady pressure on her shoulders kept her off her feet as he leaned down to her eye level. “You stay in the chair. This is their show. I’ve been busy with the remains.” He pointed a finger at Kiko. “Go.”
Kiko swung around from her desk to face Leigh. “We know that you’re under a lot of pressure right now. Especially with the media attention.” She grinned when Leigh gave a soft snort. “So we thought we could help out. Matt wanted some solo time on the remains this afternoon, so we thought we’d help with your red phosphorus issue. We didn’t think you’d had time to look into it yet.”
“The second fire kind of got in the way.”
“I bet. We went ahead and tracked down the chemical supply houses in the area that carry red phosphorus. Juka did most of the chemistry research so we could have an idea as to who the end users might be.” She imitated Matt’s pointer finger, passing the ball to Juka.
“Let’s start with the basics. Do you know what phosphorus is?” Juka asked.
“Only from what I learned in high school chemistry and biology. My degree is in criminal justice. Not much use for phosphorus there.”
Paul snickered. “I guess not.”
Juka fixed him with a flat stare and then turned back to Leigh. “Elemental phosphorus exists in two main forms—white and red. Red phosphorus can be produced by heating white phosphorus or exposing it to light. Now, you likely already know red phosphorus from its main use—safety matches.”
“Hold on. You mean the red ends of matches?”
“No. It’s in the strike plate. That’s about fifty percent red phosphorus. It heats up with friction and that sets the chemical compound caked on the match head on fire.”
Leigh tipped her head back against Matt’s hands, freezing his fingers in place temporarily as she looked up at him. “How did Bree describe it? The red phosphorus reacted with the latex to produce heat and that ignited the latex?”
“Yes. Add the oil accelerant and you’ve got yourself a fire.”
“Red phosphorus can be dangerous,” Juka continued. “But because of its use in the production of crystal meth, it’s a controlled substance.”
“Is that all it’s used for? Matches and crystal meth?”
Juka shook his head. “There are many other uses: the production of pharmaceutical methamphetamines in diet pills or for treating ADHD, pesticides, rat poisons, welding alloys, fireworks, hazard flares, smoke bombs, caps for toy guys, and semiconductors.”
“And, counterintuitively, in some flame retardants,” Paul added. “It’s got a lot of legitimate industrial uses.”
“All of which might have made our lives much more difficult if the DEA didn’t have its hands all over it,” Kiko said. “Because they’re worried about it falling into the hands of illegal drug labs, they’ve made it a List I chemical.” She looked down at the sheet of paper in her lap. “And I quote: ‘As List I chemicals, handlers of these materials will be subject to CSA chemical regulatory controls including registration, record keeping, reporting, and import/export requirements.’ Everyone who sells this stuff is required by law to have full records of every transaction.”
“As much as we wanted to call the chemical companies in the area and tell them we were the cops and we needed info— OUCH!” Paul rubbed his shoulder where Kiko had smacked him. “Okay, okay, I wanted to call them and tell them I was a cop, but I got voted down.” He handed Leigh a sheet of paper. “This is a list of eight companies in Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut and New Hampshire that produce and ship red phosphorus. For each one, we’ve listed product numbers and descriptions based on the purity of the phosphorus found at the first fire site. You should be able to get whatever warrants you need based on this pretty quickly.”
Stunned, Leigh gazed down at the paper in her hands. “I don’t know what to say.”
Paul leaned back in his chair and crossed a high-top sneaker over his jean-clad knee. “Coffee and fresh baked goods say ‘thanks’ just fine,” he hinted broadly, grinning.
“Deal.” She looked up at Matt, her body swaying slightly as he dug his thumbs into a knot over her right shoulder blade. “You asked them to do this?”
“Nope, this was all them. But I thought it was smart. We understand the science and know what we’re looking for. And you have enough to do. Now you have a little less on your plate.” He gentled his touch and ran his thumb lightly up the back of her neck, a subtle caress out of sight of his students. “Now, speaking of what’s on your plate, how did you do at the rectory?”
Leigh quickly outlined her visit. “I think we’re correct on our assumption of the second victim’s identity. Father Thomas identified the cross and said the victim was never without it. The question then is why? And what’s the link between the two victims?”
“What’s next, then?” Matt circled around her to sit on the edge of Kiko’s workstation.
“I need to find the link between our victims and identify who had access to the red phosphorus. What about you?”
“We’ll confirm the murder weapon used on the second victim tomorrow. And I got the DNA results back this afternoon. I can go over them with you when you have time.” He met her gaze, holding it, hoping that she realized that it wasn’t just the DNA from Moira Simpson he was referring to. When her eyes widened slightly, he knew she remembered the envelope from her special delivery.
“Thanks. That would be great.”
Matt pushed back his sleeve to check the time. “And now I’m kicking you guys out. It’s Friday night. Go pretend you have lives. Go dancing, have a beer, watch the baseball game. But get out of my lab for fifteen or sixteen hours. It’s like you live here or something.”
Paul was already on his feet, heading for the door. “Don’t have to tell me twice. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Kiko and Juka rose, but hesitated. “Are you sure?” Kiko asked. “We could put in a few more hours.”
“No, we’re done for the day. Scram. Go remind your fiancé that he has a fiancée. Then sleep in tomorrow. We’ll start at ten. That’ll give me time to hit the water first.”
Kiko grinned and started after Paul, Juka right on her heels. “Night.”
The door closed behind them with a thump, leaving the lab suddenly quiet.
Matt turned back to Leigh. “How are you doing?”
Leigh sat back in the chair, exhaustion playing over her face. “Tired. It’s been a crappy day. What did you mean—‘hit the water’?”
“I want time out in the scull. I need to work off some of the stress from this case. Want to join me? We missed our chance at it Sunday. And the fresh air and exercise would be a good break.”
“I miss being active. I try to climb a couple times a week, but the last month has just been hell on my schedule. I think I’ve made it there once.”
“Rock climbing? You’ve never mentioned it.”
Leigh shrugged. “Guess it never came up. Likely because it’s been too long since I had time to go.”
“You know, there’s a great rock wall in the fitness center on campus. You could show me how it’s done.”
A slow smile transformed her tired face. “You’d like to try it?”
“Sur
e.” He winked at her. “You know, I’ll show you mine, then you show me yours. Besides, I’ve always thought it looked like fun, but never had the time to learn. Might be a good activity over the winter when the Charles is not so inviting.” Leaning forward he picked up her hand. “Now, how about some dinner?”
“Only if you let me pay this time.”
“Sure.” Matt climbed to his feet, pulling her with him. “I’ll just let Dad know he’s on his own tonight.”
She frowned. “That’s not right. Why don’t we take him with us?”
“You want to have a date with my father?”
“Buddy, you’re not getting a date tonight. You’re getting dinner and that’s it. I’m too tired for anything else. Besides, I like your dad and I’d feel bad leaving him on his own on such short notice.”
Tipping her face up, he pressed his lips warmly to her forehead. “You’re a good woman, Leigh Abbott. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
She smiled back up at him.
Maybe the day wasn’t ending so badly after all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: RECOVERY
* * *
Recovery: the development, coordination, and execution of service- and site-restoration plans, and the resumption of government operations and services after a fire.
Saturday, 8:46 a.m.
DeWolfe Boathouse
Boston, Massachusetts
Leigh was laughing breathlessly when they glided up to the dock. Carefully raising her left oar to clear the wooden boards, she reached out with her free hand to slow their progress. One of the trainers jogged out of the boathouse, steadying the scull as they climbed out. She stood for a moment, out of breath and sweaty, but feeling deliciously alive from her workout.
Sunlight splashed over the Charles in bright streams, sparkling on the bobbing crests. Trees lined the river’s edge in a dazzling array of flaming reds, oranges and yellows. Near the water’s edge, a group of ducks paddled under the draping branches of an American elm, spinning the fallen leaves that floated on the river’s surface. Under her feet, the dock pitched gently, rocked by the swift moving water below.
“Look out,” Matt called.
Leigh stepped back as Matt and the deckhand pulled the scull from the water to carry it into the boathouse. Leigh followed along at a slower pace. Stepping inside, temporarily blind in the dim light, she was struck by the scents of sawdust, sweat, wax and lacquer. Blinking a few times, she peered into the storage room. Racing boats were stacked on metal racks four high, from short single-man sculls to massive eight-man shells. Beside the open doors, braces of oars stood blade up in neat lines, reaching from the floor nearly to the ten-foot ceiling. Through the floorboards overhead, she could hear the sounds of rowers working out on the fitness equipment.
Matt appeared at her side, two bottles of water in his hands and a windbreaker in Boston University colors draped over his arm. He wore a similar windbreaker already. He handed her one of the bottles. “Why don’t we sit outside for a few minutes?”
She followed him back out onto the dock and over to a bench pressed up against the clapboard wall of the boathouse. He held out the windbreaker. “Here. The breeze is refreshing now, but it’s going to be cold once you start to cool down.”
Leigh pulled the windbreaker over her long-sleeved athletic T and sank gratefully onto the bench. She took a long gulp of water and then leaned her head back against the sun-warmed wood, gazing out across the water. An eight-man scull slid gracefully by as it arrowed under one of the arches of the Boston University Bridge, sixteen oars dipping in perfect time and barely making a ripple on the water. On the other side of the river, BU’s Charles River Campus sprawled in an eclectic mixture of architectural styles that reflected campus growth after World War I. In the green space behind the buildings, students walked or lay on the grass, enjoying the last days of fall warmth.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Leigh lazily turned her head to look at Matt. He’d donned dark glasses and the wind ruffled his hair. Reaching out, she touched the ends that dangled in front of his eyes, pushing them aside. “You need a haircut.”
“That’s what you were thinking about?”
“No. Actually, I was kind of thinking about nothing. Just enjoying the peace and taking a few moments to relax. You gave me a good workout.”
He squeezed her biceps. “You did great out there.”
She laughed and pulled her arm from his grasp. “Tell me the truth—you had to slow your pace for me, didn’t you?”
“Okay, maybe a little. But not much. I didn’t really expect that you’d be able to keep up with me. You’re new at it and while you’re in good shape—” His eyes ran over her body with an appreciative gleam. “—rowing is hard work.”
“No kidding. And I underestimated how much legwork it was. How does your father do it?” she asked, referring to Mike’s workout with Matt at the oars. Matt had told her about the specialized shell they had built so Mike could row without the use of his legs.
“You’ve seen what he looks like. When you can’t use your legs, it’s a total upper body workout. He’s really strong now. I think he could bench-press more than me and he’s twenty-five years older.”
“He’s amazing. I, on the other hand, have a bad feeling about what shape I’m going to be in tomorrow. I hope I don’t have to chase down any bad guys, or I’m really going to be in trouble. I think I used muscles today I didn’t know I had.”
Matt laughed and rubbed her thigh in sympathy. “So . . . uh . . . speaking of bad guys . . .” He cleared his throat. “What’s your next move with the information about your father?” His gaze searched her face, lines of worry deepening around his eyes. “You’re covering it well for everyone else, but I can tell it’s never far from your mind.”
Leigh sighed, some the joy seeping out of her mood. A chill ran down her spine, but she doubted it was the breeze cooling the sweat on her skin. “I haven’t had time to deal with it, other than getting you that sample to test.”
“And that came up as a big fat goose egg. Must have been one of those self-adhesive envelopes.”
“There’s no way I could have gotten so lucky as to get a hit with the DNA. The more I think about this, the more I think it had to come from within the department, and cops know evidence collection inside and out. We also know we’re on file so our own DNA can be eliminated from a crime scene in case of contamination.”
“What about a journalist? Could someone like that have a source inside the department who could slip them information?”
Leigh made a humming noise, deep in the back of her throat. “Maybe. But I keep circling back to why? If a journalist thought he had a line on a dirty cop, wouldn’t he be more likely to investigate and then break it as a big story? That way he gets all the glory. That doesn’t feel right here.” She paused, taking a long sip of her water, trying to organize her thoughts. “Frankly, I don’t know what feels right. None of it makes any sense. If it’s intended as blackmail, why is there no request for money? If they want to go after me, why not just do it directly? What do they have to gain by ruining the name of a good man?” Her voice rose in pitch and the half-empty plastic bottle crumpled under the pressure of her fingers.
Matt pulled the bottle from her grasp, intertwining his fingers with hers instead. “You’re angry and frustrated.”
“Damn right!” When Matt’s eyebrows shot up from behind his sunglasses, Leigh forced herself to calm down. “Sorry. Apparently we’ve hit a nerve here.”
“No need to apologize. If someone was trying to do this to the memory of one of my parents, I’d be going crazy.”
“But getting angry doesn’t help. All it does is cloud my judgment and I need to think clearly. So, for now, I’m going to assume it’s someone on the inside. There’s nothing more to be gained from the first message, so I’m going back to basics. I’ll start by signing out the case evidence from Dad’s death.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea
? That must leave some sort of paper trail.”
“They know I’m going to look into it. Besides, it’s either that or sit on my hands, and I’m not really the sitting-still type. So I’m going to start taking it apart. I’ve also got Dad’s own files from back then.”
“He kept personal files? You can do that?”
“Dad used to make copies of stuff to work on from home. When he died, all that stuff was on his computer. When I sold the family home, I kept a lot of his things. His hard drive was one of them. At the time I kept it because he had family photos on there and some personal documents, but maybe there’ll be something relevant.”
“It’s definitely worth looking through. Can I help?”
She considered his request for a moment. “You could. Not your students though. I don’t want them in on this.”
“I agree. But I can be another set of eyes. You have enough going on. Let me carry some of this load.”
“You do that a lot lately.”
He rubbed the fingers of his free hand over the back of hers. “You know I’m happy to.”
“And to think just four weeks ago I thought you were the most arrogant son of a bitch I’d ever met and wanted to kick your ass from here to Springfield.”
Laughter exploded from Matt in a sharp crack that had the seagull perched on the edge of the dock rising into the air with an annoyed squawk. “And to think that just four weeks ago I thought you were a hardheaded, protocol-obsessed, controlling flatfoot with zero personality.” He grinned. “Isn’t it nice to be wrong?”
“In this case, yes.” Leigh pushed back the cuff of the windbreaker to glance at her watch. “I’d better go. I want to talk to Flynn Simpson about the second fire. He may be able to see a connection between the victims that we’re missing.” She stood, looking out over the water as the wind whipped at her ponytail. “Thanks for this morning. It was a great break.” She rolled her shoulders.
“We both needed it. But now . . .”
Their eyes met as they shared the same thought: It was time to get back to work.
A Flame in the Wind of Death Page 17