Burning Embers

by G. K. Parks

  “Relax,” Voletek said. “You’re okay.”

  Easton got up from the table and circled the kitchen. “I thought I heard him in here, but when I opened the pantry door, the kitchen was empty.”

  “Was the back door open?” I asked.

  Easton blinked. “Um…”

  Voletek glanced at me. Witnesses and victims often forgot details in the heat of the moment. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

  “The door was closed, but it might have been unlocked. I can’t remember. I heard rustling out back and feared the bastard intended to sabotage my truck. The car out front and the brick might have been distractions. I don’t know how I got outside. All I know is that I ran out back to check on my truck, and that’s when I saw him.”

  “Saw who?” Voletek asked.

  “I don’t fucking know.” Easton went to the fridge. He ripped open the door before slamming it shut. Then, as if remembering a forgotten promise, he grabbed the towel from the hook and opened the freezer. He wrapped some ice in the towel and dropped it on the counter in front of me. “He wore a watch cap. He might have had a mask. I don’t know. I couldn’t see much. But he was messing with the tarp. I surprised him, and he took off. He got into the car and drove off before I could stop him. That’s when I went inside the food truck. I figured I’d stay out there to guard it.”

  “Instead, you surprised me,” I said.

  The wheels turned in Voletek’s head. “Did you get the plate?”

  Easton sighed. “No.”

  “Did you see anyone when you got here, Alex?”

  “No.”

  “What time was that?” Voletek asked.

  “I don’t know.” I looked at the clock. “Less than ten minutes before you arrived.”

  “Okay. Hang tight. Let me see what I can do.” Voletek strode out of the kitchen, leaving us with an officer who was poking around in the pantry.

  “Why didn’t you call Bennett Renner?” I asked.

  Easton let out a huff. “I did. He promised he’d get here as soon as he could. I guess I’m not his top priority.” He exhaled and attempted a smile. “I guess I’m yours.”

  “Maybe,” I admitted, “but don’t tell my boyfriend.”

  Ten

  After assigning a patrol to sit outside Easton’s house, Voletek pulled me to the side. “I spoke to the neighbors. No one remembers seeing any cars that fit Easton’s description.”

  “You think they’d talk to you?” I glanced pointedly at his badge. “This doesn’t seem to be the most cop friendly neighborhood.”

  “You’re right, but I have a weird feeling about this. You saw the damage inside. What caused it?”

  “I’m guessing the Louisville slugger.”

  “Those are traditionally wood, not aluminum.”

  “Do I look like I care?”

  Voletek laughed. “So we’re in agreement the damage in the pantry is from Easton trashing his own place?”

  “Probably, unless we’re dealing with several unsubs. What did forensics say? Did they find any prints?”

  “A few partials and some smudges, but nothing appears recent. I’d say they probably belong to whatever houseguests Easton has had in the past month or so. We only found one set of prints on the note, and when we ran them through the scanner, they matched Easton Lango. The lab will verify it, but we have no reason to doubt the findings. This bastard is clever. He wore gloves and didn’t leave any evidence behind.”

  A silver sedan pulled up behind Voletek’s SUV, and Bennett Renner got out of the car. “Hey,” he waved, glancing around, “is Easton okay?”

  “Shaken up, but fine,” I said. “And for the record, I didn’t call the cops. Make sure Cross knows that.”

  “Will do.” Renner saw Easton watching us from the front door and waved. “Why the boarded up window?”

  “Someone threw a brick through it,” I said.

  “Yeah, someone,” Voletek muttered. “I’ll see what forensics turns up on the letter and the handwriting, but I don’t think we’re missing anything. The car’s probably our best bet. A custom job like that should be easy enough to find.”

  “Do you have a starting place in mind?”

  “Maybe.” Voletek eyed me, and I knew we had the same thought. We wanted to know what Galen Strader drove.

  Renner gave the two of us a strange look. “What’s going on, Jake? Is there something I should know?” He glanced at me. “Do the two of you know each other? You seem awfully close.”

  “We just met today.” I faced Voletek. “Does this mean the police are opening a new investigation?”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but the brass hates being wrong. Easton’s right. They might write it off as vandalism or a teenage prank since nothing was stolen and no one was hurt. I’ll do what I can. These threats are real, and if we don’t identify the party responsible, he’ll escalate.”

  “Someone needs to catch me up to speed,” Renner said.

  “I will,” I promised.

  “We took the tarp into evidence. Maybe we’ll find something on it. I should head over to the precinct and see if I can locate the car.” Voletek reached for his phone and sent a text message.

  “Keep us looped in,” Renner said.

  “Since we didn’t find prints inside the house, I’m sure you won’t find any outside either. The guy probably wore gloves,” I surmised.

  “I’ll look anyway.” Voletek narrowed his eyes at Renner, his brow furrowing. He saw something I didn’t, and he didn’t like it. “The patrol unit will sit on Easton until we know more. It’ll give the chef a brief reprieve. Hopefully, he can rest easy. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  “Let us know when you’re pulling the protection detail,” Renner said.

  Voletek nodded and got into his car.

  I watched him drive away. “Where were you? Easton’s your client. This is your case. Just because Cross wants to cover his ass and lists me as primary, that doesn’t mean you can drop the ball.”

  “I’m sorry. I got held up.”

  “I don’t care. When a client calls and says someone has broken into his house, you haul ass.”

  Renner grabbed my shoulders. “I know, Parker, but I got held up. Literally. Held at gunpoint, held up.” He released me and rubbed his jaw. His knuckles were battered. That must have been what Voletek noticed.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, but I was dealing with that when Easton called. I told him to call you. He said he already called the cops, but I knew you’d show up. What did I miss?” After I caught Renner up to speed, he whistled. “Sounds like the chef nearly bashed your skull in. Obviously, he’s not making this up. The fire must have been arson.”

  “Or a terribly timed coincidence.” Which I didn’t believe. I glanced back at the house. Easton hadn’t moved from the front door. This was the second time I’d seen the chef freak out. Last night and tonight. I hated to think what tomorrow would bring.

  Renner led the way up the path to the house. “Jake’s a good guy, and he’s a good cop. But it gets him in hot water with the brass when he fails to fall in line. Sergeant Chambliss said there was no case, and the investigation is closed. Now it’s open again, and if I know the PD, they’ll want to close it as soon as possible. They won’t like that Jake’s poking around.”

  “He’s just doing his job.”

  “Which is why he always lands on his feet.” Renner shook hands with Easton and followed the chef into the house. After asking how our client was, Renner rubbed his palms together. “Let’s see what the police missed.”

  While Bennett went over the details with Easton for what felt like the fourth time, I grabbed the large Maglite from my trunk and checked the sidewalk, street, and every inch of Easton’s yard for clues. The police officers watched, calling out unhelpful suggestions when I was close enough to their car to hear them. Thanks, guys. At times, I understood why Cross despised the PD.

  Aside from some litter, I didn’t find anything.
Nothing indicated a vehicle had idled in front of the house or that the occupant sent the brick through Easton Lango’s front window. I stood at the curb and stared at the house. There was a good fifteen feet between the house and the curb. Assuming the average weight of a brick and the height of the window, I wondered how hard it would be to throw it through the window from inside the car. Honestly, I didn’t think it was possible.

  I returned to the house, shutting and locking the door behind me. “When the man you encountered escaped, did he get behind the wheel?”

  Easton thought for a moment. “No.” He paled, making the dark blue pop in stark contrast to his skin tone. “There’s two of them.”

  “That’d be my guess.”

  Renner looked up from his seat on the couch. “You searched the house before the police arrived, right?”

  “I didn’t search it. I cleared it.”

  Renner thought for a moment. “Did you contaminate the scene?”

  “I don’t think so.” Aside from stepping on the broken glass, pushing the clothes around in the closet, and picking up Easton’s phone, which I returned to its previous position, I didn’t think I disturbed anything. Renner climbed off the couch. From the way he moved, I could tell he was hurt. “What are you thinking?”

  “How’d you get inside?” Renner asked.

  “The front door was open.” The realization hit me. “Shit.”

  “I know it was locked,” Easton said. “That was the first thing I did after the window broke. I made sure the door was locked. Then I picked up the brick, read the note, dropped it, grabbed my bat, and called Voletek and you guys. You know the rest.”

  “Do you have a security system?” I asked.

  “You’re joking, right?” That would have been too easy.

  “Alex, you and Easton go around the house and see if anything’s missing. Since patrol’s already been through here, we won’t know how much damage they’ve done, but let’s hope it wasn’t too much. I’ll grab some gear out of the car.” Renner didn’t leave any room for debate.

  When Easton and I completed the walkthrough of his house, finding nothing stolen or disturbed besides the pantry items and the broken lamp, we found Renner scanning the living room for radio frequencies. I arched an eyebrow, but Renner put a finger to his lips to keep me from asking the question. If the intruder planted a bug, we didn’t want to tip him off that we were on to him.

  “So, Chef, I saw that spread in the paper. The critics speculate you’re in the running for a Michelin star.”

  “Was.” Easton’s expression soured. “You have to have a restaurant worthy of making a special trip to even qualify, and I have no restaurant. Food trucks don’t count.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down what Renner was doing before Easton could ask the obvious question, “why were you parked outside the club the other night?”

  “The band’s manager contacted me. They put in a special request for private catering, but since I already planned on announcing the official food truck launch at the end of the month, I figured I could use the dry run. In case it flopped, no one would officially know, and I could change the name before any more damage was done to my reputation.”

  “From the looks of it, I thought it went pretty well. The food was magnificent.” I glanced at Renner, who nodded, encouraging me to continue the conversation as he moved into the bedroom.

  “It could have gone smoother. I have to perfect my prep and make sure the stations are organized.” Easton winced. “Shit. The broken window.”

  “Don’t worry about it. That’s the least of your problems,” I said.

  Easton picked up his phone from the counter and added a reminder. After that, he picked up one of his notebooks and modified his ingredient and recipe list. Obviously, focusing on work would serve as an outlet for him to relax after the crazy night he had.

  Renner finished his sweep of the rest of the house and entered the kitchen. The device let out a beep, and Renner moved closer to the sink. Based on the display, we knew a signal was being broadcast. But from where? I got up from the table and helped Renner search.

  “Wow,” I said, finding a tiny camera hooked to the side of the fridge. It was practically indistinguishable from Easton’s magnets, which was why the police missed it.

  Renner followed the cord as it wrapped around the fridge coil and hooked to a battery pack and signal booster. He disconnected it. “You’re right, Chef. You had an intruder.”

  Easton looked up from his notepad, squinting at the camera. His gaze darted from Renner to me. “Who would do something like this?”

  “You tell us.” Renner put the camera in a bag and took off his gloves. “It was focused here. What’s significant about this spot?”

  “That’s where I cook. I test out recipes and work on techniques.”

  “A competitor, maybe.” As far as I could tell, that was the only benefit of placing the camera there.

  “Whoever it is went to a lot of trouble.” Renner checked the back door. “Let me scan your truck. Someone might have bugged that too. And I want to get some mechanics to look at it before you take it anywhere.”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” I offered. “Easton, are you okay in here?”

  He glared at the side of the fridge. “Fine.”

  “Okay. We’ll be right outside if you need us.” I followed Renner out the door. “What do you think? Do you think someone sabotaged the truck?”

  “After the fire at Sizzle, I wouldn’t doubt it. Clearly, our client isn’t crying wolf. I want to put the house under surveillance in case these assholes return. They know we found the camera. I just don’t know if they’re crazy enough to try again.”

  “What do you think they wanted?”

  “If Easton’s right, they want the secret to making the perfect tart.”

  I would have laughed at the absurdity if it wasn’t true. Everything read like sabotage and unhealthy competition. Another chef in the running for stardom would have plenty of motivation to burn down Easton’s restaurant, sabotage his food truck, and steal his secret recipes. Galen Strader remained at the top of my suspect list with Asher York as a close second, along with countless other unnamed culinary geniuses – evil culinary geniuses.

  After checking the truck and finding nothing amiss, we went back inside. Easton scribbled furiously in his notebook as he paced back and forth. I glanced over his shoulder, wondering why the intruder didn’t steal the book, but I found it was written in an indecipherable shorthand. I couldn’t make heads or tails out of the doodles, but they meant something to the chef. Easton stopped writing and looked at me.

  “Now what?”

  “Tomorrow morning, mechanics will check your truck, and we’ll find someone to replace the window,” Renner promised. “I want to outfit your house with surveillance equipment, but until that’s done, I’d like to stick around, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” Easton dropped into a chair. “What about the camera and the latest death threat?”

  “We’ll have Cross Security analyze the camera. Hopefully, that will lead to the intruder. The police have the note, so until they finish with it, there’s nothing we can do about it.” Renner turned to me. “Why don’t you take this back to the office and get started tracking the buyer? See if the techs can trace the signal. If Jake calls, let me know what he says.”

  “Roger.” I scooped up the bag from the table.

  “You can meet us back here tomorrow morning, after your morning meeting with Cross.” Renner kept a straight-face, but his eyes shone with amusement.

  “I hate you,” I said and headed for the door.

  Eleven

  “Hey, Alex. I haven’t seen you working this late in a while. Burning the midnight oil?” Gus from building security asked.

  “It looks that way.” I held up the evidence bag. “The techs won’t be happy to see me.”

  “You’re making them wo
rk for their overtime.”

  “I doubt anyone at Cross Security gets overtime.”

  The guard laughed. “Have a good night.”

  “You too.”

  After dropping off the camera, I went to my office to get some work done. The names of potential suspects stared up at me from the list I made earlier. Pushing it aside, I dug into Galen Strader. Even though Voletek said he’d follow up on the car, I was confident I could get the information faster. It wouldn’t take long to link the car to Strader and call it a night, except Strader didn’t own a car. That put a chink in my plan.

  However, I was nearly certain whoever threw the brick through Easton’s window had at least one accomplice. I picked up the list of names and checked vehicle records, but nothing popped up. I wondered if Easton’s description was accurate. He didn’t strike me as a car guy. The neon green lights might have been the only part he got right. After all, with that fancy dye job, I had no doubt he knew his colors better than he knew his cars.

  Since I couldn’t track the car, maybe I could track the lights. Several auto body shops specialized in customizations. Unfortunately, at this time of night they were closed. That would just be another thing I had to look into in the morning.

  Unsure where to go from here, I paced in front of my desk and forced my mind to go back to the beginning. Renner told me last night it took him a long time to track down Easton Lango. And Renner was a professional dick. Locating people was in his wheelhouse. Since receiving the online threats, Easton had been much more secretive about his whereabouts and location, only posting things related to cooking or inconsequential details. He stopped checking in at the locations he visited and posting pictures from venues and clubs. The slew of photographs with him and various young, attractive women stopped around the same time he left Bouillon, but that hadn’t been enough to deter the arsonist from striking.

  Since Easton recently moved, most internet searches of public records still displayed his old address. Cross Security pulled the address from the DMV, but normal people didn’t have access or wouldn’t think to do that. So how did the brick-thrower find Easton?