Jake nodded and turned his attention back to the fire. This one was different from the others, yet because of the fatalities, he had a bad feeling about it. If they were lucky, the perp would be one of the bodies inside. If they weren’t ... He shook his head and sighed.
Just as it appeared that the fire was under control, flames erupted from another section of the building. Heavy black smoke, to be expected considering the number of petroleum products inside, filled the air. With so many flammable and combustible materials on the premises, this fire could burn for hours. There had been a couple of small explosions since he’d arrived, possibly from aerosol cans and the compressed gas cylinders—there would have been acetylene and God knows what else in there. The police pushed the crowd back, although it surged forward again fueled by its own fascination and morbid curiosity. This was going to be another long night.
Chapter Six
Jake watched the crowd. If the Fire Angel had set this fire, then he had to be here watching. He noticed Frank’s truck on the edge of the throng and walked over. He needed a jolt of caffeine to wake him, something to help him get his mind around this.
“Hey, Frank, you’re working late,” he said. While the guy could still be a dork at times, putting his foot into his mouth with comments that occasionally hurt, Minette thought the world of him and his commitment to the inn—and he did make a hell of a good cup of coffee.
“Lynette got me out of bed. She said you guys needed me. It looks like a bad one.” He moved gingerly to get Jake the coffee he’d requested.
“What’s wrong with your back?” he asked.
Frank smiled, his cheeks growing red. Few men blushed as much as he seemed to. He stood up straighter.
“Today was my day off, and since Minette asked me to get her some rabbits and ruffed grouse for the Temagami recipes she wants to offer for that conference you’re hosting next month, I thought I’d bag a deer for her, too. Everyone likes venison. Got up at four in the morning and fell asleep in my tree stand.” He shook his head. “I fell out of the damn thing and landed on my ass on the rocky ground. I’ll be sore for a couple of days.” He pursed his lips. “Didn’t get the rabbits or the grouse, either. I’ll have to try again next week.”
Jake chuckled. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but you do paint a funny picture. Take care of yourself. If it isn’t better by Monday, have Dr. Shillingham look at it. He’s got an analgesic ointment that works wonders—I would be lost without it. You could have busted your tailbone or something.”
“You might be right—hurts like the dickens—but I think this was my lucky day.” He shook his head, his eyes the size of silver dollars. “I usually sit in on Duffy’s poker game, but I bailed. My ass is too sore for hours on a hard chair. I guess that’s two close calls for me today. I’d better pick up a lottery ticket in the morning.” He pointed to the widows. “I’ll drop by Duffy’s house tomorrow with coffee and squares. I hope they had lots of insurance.”
“So do I,” Jake said, handing over a twonie to cover the cost of his coffee. “He’s got a couple of kids, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, and I heard she’s got a bun in the oven, too.”
“Raising kids alone is never easy.” He lifted the Styrofoam cup to his lips and sipped. “If you were a regular, who else might be in there?”
Frank scratched his head.
Jake set the coffee cup on the canteen’s window ledge, took out his cellphone, and opened a note page.
“Let’s see,” Frank said, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “Duffy was always there, but the other guys sometimes changed. I’ve seen as many as six play at once. Lamont Kirby might be there—he drives for Piedmont Fuels, the company that supplies Duffy with gas, but he and Duffy got into it last month when Lamont accused Duff of cheating. Leo Preston, his brother-in-law and mechanic must be there since that’s his wife. Some of the time, his apprentice plays, but that guy’s more into video games than cards. Clint Jones has been in on a game or two. He works for the town issuing building permits. I’ve seen Wally Bancroft, the bank manager, there, but his wife gives him holy hell if he loses. And of course, Father Martin did whenever the church was fundraising. God must’ve been on his side because he cleaned me out a few times. Angus Carothers was a regular, but I heard he fell off his roof.” He shook his head. “Not much help, was I? It’s a popular game?”
Jake closed the document and pocketed his phone, reaching for his coffee once more. Any of the guys on this list who weren’t playing tonight might be potential suspects, especially Lamont Kirby if he had a beef with Duffy, and this was arson. He was pretty sure he’d seen Wally Bancroft’s name as a complainant, but couldn’t remember against who. He would definitely look into Angus Carothers, too, although if the man was injured, it was unlikely he could’ve done this.
“You’ve been more help than you think and have given me a place to start.” He sipped his coffee. “It’s a hell of a fire, isn’t it?”
“Damn big one, that’s for sure,” Frank snarled. “Don’t get me wrong. I feel really bad for the guys in there—thankful as hell that I’m not one of them—but where’s a man supposed to get gas now? It’s going to take months to clean this place up and get it working again. The truck owner’s going to rag on and on about the increased cost since I’ll have to drive into North Bay every time I need to gas up. Can’t sell anything if I’m on the road. It’s going to cut into my route, too.”
“I’ll have to remind Minette to keep the top half of the tank filled. She won’t want to run out of gas. Even with a motor league membership, it’ll be a long, cold wait if she does,” Jake said, sipping his coffee.
Frank nodded. He turned to the firefighter who’d stepped to the window. “What can I get you, Ian? It’s on the house tonight.”
“Just coffee, thanks.” Ian turned to Jake. “I guess you didn’t find the son of a bitch after all.”
“If this is his work, then no, but it’s not controlled like the other fires were.”
Ian nodded. “That’s an understatement. It’ll be hours before we get in there to find out for sure.” He tipped his fire helmet up and took off his gloves to reach for the coffee Frank offered him. “I’m sorry I was such an ass the other day. I know you have to find this bastard. If I can be of any help, call.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. I’m going to keep my fingers crossed that this is an accident.”
Jake moved away from the truck. Frank could be a jerk at times, but then he could also do the right thing like giving out free coffee tonight. The firefighters had a bitch of a job to do at the best of times, and this blaze was a doozy.
He watched another explosion light up the sky. The problem was that he didn’t know enough about fires to do this on his own. He was a profiler; he needed a fire expert. He’d read the reports. He couldn’t see the answers in them, and the answers had to be there. No, regardless of how this particular fire had started, he needed to convince Everett to send for a professional fire investigator.
He’d phoned the number listed after reading an article in a magazine one of his old pals from the RCMP had faxed him. Apparently, this fire expert used unorthodox methods but got the answers needed to solve the unsolvable cases. The author of the article had referred to her as the Fire Psychic. Seemed fitting to have her go after the Fire Angel. Perhaps between the two of them, they could figure this out. She hadn’t returned his call, but maybe she would return one from the Chief of Police.
Jake walked over to his old friend.
“Everett, I need to bring someone else in on this, someone who can solve this kind of puzzle. My gut tells me, that despite everything pointing in the opposite direction, this is the arsonist’s work.”
“Who do you want to call?” he asked.
“A fire expert, one with a reputation for solving the toughest cases.” He would keep the psychic aspect of this to himself for now.
* * *
Alexis Michaels raised her hand and knocked on her supervisor’s o
ffice door. As one of North America’s finest fire and arson investigators, a woman in a man’s world, she pushed herself to be the best. She had an exceptional understanding of fire and its behavior, but it went deeper than that. Driven by her own demons, spawned by an attempt on her life, she understood the purpose and actions of the various accelerants and ignition devices used by arsonists as well as what was going on inside the firebug’s head.
Usually called in when local fire and police officials requested help, it was her job to identify the origin and cause of the fire, track its progress, and if there was one, identify the common threads that tied multiple blazes together. What had that writer called her? The Fire Psychic? At first, she’d found the name insulting as if he were making fun of her, but the article showed he wasn’t. He was right, although he didn’t truly understand the depth of her abilities. She saw beyond what other inspectors could see and frequently found that missing link to solve the crime.
It was too bad that psychic ability didn’t work on the other aspects of her life. If it had, she wouldn’t be alone after yet another failed relationship, and she sure as hell wouldn’t have almost died at the hands of a professional killer.
“Come in,” Captain Peters called.
Opening the door, Alexis smiled. “You asked to see me, Captain?’
“Welcome back, Michaels,” he said, indicating she should sit down. “How’s the shoulder?”
“It’s fine. I completed my last session with the physiotherapist earlier this morning and I’m officially certified ready to work. I handed the documents into Personnel on my way up here,” she answered, chomping at the bit to get back into the game. Six months of rehab meant too much time to dwell on things, especially her lack of any kind of real life. She lived for the job, and after this latest Bob fiasco, that was all she would ever have.
Peters nodded. “Good. I’ll get right to the point. I received an interesting call last week from a Chief of Police in Ontario concerning a string of rather disturbing arson cases. After listening to him, I realized that, despite the fact you’re coming off sick leave, you’re the only one I can send to investigate this. The first few involved destruction of property, but the suspect upped the ante by adding bodies to the mix.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean by ‘adding’ bodies.”
“In the last three months, there’s been one fire each month, the blaze used specifically to murder individuals—the details on that are hush-hush and you’ll be briefed when you arrive. The first time, one person, the second, five, although three of them were considered collateral damage, and the last one, a week ago, had four victims.”
“In other words, he’s doubling his kill number with each fire—one, two, four. That’s not good.”
“No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “For security reasons, the last thing they want is for some of this guy’s MO to get out there. The community is already spooked, especially since the Fire Angel, as he’s been dubbed, could be one of them. They haven’t shared a lot of details, but you will be working with a partner, a criminal profiler, who’s been on the case since September.”
Alexis scowled. “Captain, if this is going to call for my special talents, then you know I need to work alone,” she argued.
“That’s not an option this time, and considering you’re just coming back to work, I’m comfortable with that. I know you’ll find a way to explain what you do. Your talent is a gift, not something to be ashamed of, I’ve told you that before. There are fifty other fire investigators on my staff who would give their eye teeth to be able to do what you do. The people of Paradise need that ability right now more than anything.”
Alexis swallowed the bile suddenly rising in her. “Paradise, Ontario?” she asked, scarcely able to believe she could say the words.
“Yes, it’s a small town in Northern Ontario, just east of North Bay. It’s along the Trans-Canada Highway. You’ll fly from here to Toronto and then take a smaller plane to North Bay. From there you can rent a vehicle. You’ll have to work with the profiler, but I’m sure there will be times when you’ll want to work on your own. Are you okay? You’re paler than you were when you walked in.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast, that’s all. I’ll grab something from the cafeteria. When will they need me?”
Peters chuckled. “According to Everett Lewis, that’s the chief’s name, yesterday would be about right, but I’ve explained you probably won’t be able to get there until next weekend. You’ll be testifying all week, won’t you? I wish California still had the death penalty, but I suppose life without any chance of parole will have to do.” He leaned forward, his hands joined on the top of his desk. “The case is time sensitive. This guy seems to be setting fires on the night of the full moon. That means you’ll arrive only days before ... and if his pattern holds...”
“Eight people will die.” She sighed. “Are you sure this has to be me?”
“I am. From what the chief said, they’re spinning their wheels. I realize you’re reluctant to take a job out of country, but Lewis has promised to look after anything you may want. He’ll keep you safe, and besides, as always, you’ll be armed. There’s no way I’ll see you in a situation like you were in last spring, but you can’t keep watching dark corners for boogeymen. The shrink told you that. I need you on this, Alexis. Those people need you.”
They hadn’t needed her twenty years ago.
“I understand. What else do I need to know?”
Peters continued his briefing, but she barely heard him. Twenty years ago, she’d run as fast and as far away from that place as she could get, from one hell into another. She’d left part of her heart and soul behind, but time had passed, and she’d survived. Now, she would be returning to Paradise to do a job no one else could do. After she found this serial killer, arsonist, or whatever he was, it might be time to deal with the other monsters in her life, but she wouldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t—not if she wanted to remain sane.
* * *
“Son of a bitch,” Alexis cursed, the sound of her voice loud and unnerving in the empty vehicle. The heavy rain had stopped, but as it had gotten darker, driving conditions on the Trans-Canada had worsened. A dense fog had settled into the region, limiting visibility. The beams from the headlights of her rental car encroached timidly upon the murky darkness but gave little light. She should’ve chosen a heavier, sturdier vehicle.
“A tank might’ve been nice,” she muttered. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” She punctuated each word with a punch to the steering wheel. “I should’ve known better. Damn it. I lived here for almost twenty years.”
Turning off the radio, she fought to concentrate on her driving, white-knuckling the steering wheel, but the silence played havoc with her nerves.
“Focus, Alexis. This isn’t a B movie with some killer waiting around the next bend.”
Talking to herself was a long-standing coping mechanism from years ago, one that let her retreat to a safe place in her mind. She’d started doing it at the creepier fire scenes, especially those where there’d been deaths. A few of the other fire investigators thought her odd, but in reality, talking to herself was just the tip of that iceberg.
“Holy shit,” she cried as the fog came alive in front of her, slamming on the brakes just as a large moose stepped out onto the highway less than twenty yards ahead of her, on the very edge of what little illumination her lights provided.
A piercing squeal shrieked in her ears, proof that the brakes might not be in the best of shape, setting her teeth on edge.
The massive bull moose must’ve heard it, too. He turned toward her. The car swerved into the opposite lane, scraped along the road-side rail, and spun, stopping face to face with the enormous creature.
Her heart thundered in her ears, her grip on the steering wheel painful.
The huge animal stood in the glare of her headlights, staring at the foreign object that had inva
ded his domain, puffs of vapor coming from his nostrils, reminding her of the enraged bulls in Saturday morning cartoons. She watched in horror as the gigantic beast took two steps in her direction.
What the hell had she been thinking?
The problem was that she hadn’t been—as usual. She’d been focused on getting to the crime scene as fast as she could before time ran out and more evidence could be destroyed. She’d seen the moose crossing signs, but she’d assumed that moose had enough commonsense to stay put on a night like this.
She stared in awe at the strangely magnificent beast before her. It was so big, much bigger than she remembered. The bull, almost black in color with palmate antlers, stood at least six feet tall at the shoulder and must have weighed well over twelve hundred pounds—probably more than the damn vehicle she was driving. Swallowing the bile filling her mouth, she wished she hadn’t eaten that bag of potato chips, and stared through the windshield at the animal. The way its body weight was centered above its long, spindly legs made it particularly dangerous for low-slung cars like hers. Heaven knew what would happen to her if he decided to charge.
Alexis watched as the gigantic animal continued his slow progress towards the car and then, less than a yard away, he veered right, raised his legs to cross over the rail, and tramped down into the low ditch. She sat immobilized, her gaze locked on him until he disappeared into the fog.
Slowly, she released the breath she’d been holding and pushed her hair up off her forehead.
“Holy cow, I mean bull,” she said and whistled. “That was way too close for comfort.”
Once she was certain the beast wasn’t going to turn around and come back, she drew a deep breath, put the car into low gear, and thanked the powers that be that the engine hadn’t stalled. Cautiously, she moved her coupe back onto the highway and into her own lane. She hadn’t seen another since North Bay when she’d stopped to buy the bag of chips currently sitting like a lump of lead in her stomach. It would be just her luck to avoid the moose and get hit by an oncoming car—driven by the only other person stupid enough to be out in this weather.
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