Jake grabbed her arm, his face devoid of color. “If the inn hadn’t been so busy, Minette would’ve been here, too. If she’d been here...”
“But she wasn’t,” she said in an effort to stop him from going down that road.
Jake wasn’t ready to lose another wife and certainly not this way. Poor Mia was already down one parent.
“Where are those still inside?” she asked, bringing the discussion back to the here and now.
“They’re all in the west section,” the fire marshal answered, indicating the part of the structure in flames. “The staff and volunteers were either in the kitchen on the lower floor or attending the lecture in the dining room on the first floor. The bikers would’ve been in the rec hall. Those sheltering here were upstairs. Until we get inside we won’t know exactly where the fire started, but the council was in the process of re-insulating the building with energy-saving polystyrene insulation, hence the black smoke.”
She frowned. “So there have been workmen here for how long?”
“At least a couple of weeks. It’s a local contractor, so he’ll have the names of the workers. You think it could be one of them?” He wiped ineffectively at the soot on his face.
“It’s possible. We’ll need the names of everyone who had access to the building. From what I’ve seen at the other sites, it takes time to set the scene the way he likes it,” she said.
Ev nodded. “This hits hard, Alexis. Most of the firefighters from North Bay don’t have skin in the game, but our volunteers do. They aren’t ready for this. A lot of them may have friends and family in there, people who are unaccounted for. I wish I could send them home to be with their loved ones, but I need everyone doing the best they can. The son of a bitch has this community by the short hairs.” Ev shook his head. “I’ve got Lynette making calls ... When the school was turned over to Correctional Services, steel riot doors were installed at both ends and in the center of the building. For some reason, when the smoke alarms went off, they triggered the lock down feature that should have been disabled, and the center doors closed. Without power, we can’t reopen them. The guys are trying to do it manually, but it’s as if they’ve been sealed shut. It’s preventing us from getting into that part of the building and keeping anyone in that section from getting out,” he continued, frustration fueling his anger. “It’s like that damn house fire. Only part of the building is involved, but the smoke’s everywhere.”
“Isn’t there another way into that section?” Alexis asked. “I seem to remember a door at the end and another on the back that led into the yard.”
“They bricked up the door into the yard when it was a correctional facility and as far as the end door goes, it’s completely involved,” Lincoln answered, his voice filled with frustration. “It looks as if the grease and oil bins were moved closer to the entrance. That violates the safety code, but places do it all the time during the winter so that they don’t have so far to go. It could even have been the ignition point for all we know. I’ve sent to North Bay for foam suppressant. It should be here anytime. My men are trying to vent the roof to see if we can go in that way or through the windows, but the bars are a problem. Hand-held, steel-cutting saws take time, and that’s the one thing we don’t have. Excuse me.” He walked away to join another firefighter who’d signaled for his attention.
Alexis watched the man depart, knowing he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, a weight that might never be lifted.
Chapter Eighteen
As soon as they were alone, Alexis turned to Jake and gripped his arm.
“Listen to me, Jake. You wanted to know why that reporter called me Fire Psychic, it’s because I have a sixth sense about the fire and the arsonist. I get flashbacks at the scene that show me what he does and how he does it. With these fires, it goes beyond that. He was here, watching, and I got inside his head. I surprised him and he’s angry and upset. He may still be in the crowd, but he won’t look at the fire. The fire connects us, and he can’t take the chance I won’t find him again.” She looked at him, begging him to accept what she said. “Don’t ask me to explain it all right now. I will as soon as I can, I promise, but trust me and have someone check those roofs.” She faced the buildings across the street. “Doesn’t Lamont live in that building? Have them check his apartment, too. Just trust me on this, please? I need to talk to those kids.”
“You’ve got it. I’ll send Tom and Pat to check the buildings, and I’ll look at the crowd myself. Finding someone who isn’t watching the fire shouldn’t be that hard.” He hung his head and shook it. “I thought I’d seen enough of this senseless violence towards women and children overseas. I never expected it here. This man isn’t human.”
“Hey.” She turned him to face her. “Sociopaths don’t have a shred of compassion in them. We don’t know yet that he’s the one who did this. We aren’t even certain it’s arson yet.” But he had, and it was. She’d sensed his admiration, his gloating. “Be careful, please.”
He pulled her into his arms and gave her a fierce hug before letting go and smiling down at her. “Ditto, partner.” He turned and moved off towards the throng.
Alexis watched him limp away into the crowd. His behavior confused her. The hand holding and now the hug? Was there a problem with his marriage? Minette had looked so sad when she’d talked about Afghanistan. Maybe the rebound relationship wasn’t working out. It happened when people were drawn together by mutual sorrow. It might explain why Mia didn’t call him daddy—but the thought of Min being here had devastated him. She shook herself. This was neither the time nor the place to expend energy worrying about that.
After donning the white hardhat Ev had given her and the orange vest that identified her as part of the on-scene investigation unit, she pulled out her asthma pump, another secret she’d kept from Jake, and took the two required puffs. The air was thick with smoke. The last thing anyone needed was for her to collapse. Turning on her heel, she headed toward the rescue vehicle. This wouldn’t be the first time she interviewed witnesses, but it would be the first time she spoke to anyone who’d been inside when the fire started and had managed to get out. Learning about what they’d seen could be invaluable.
* * *
Heart beating so fast it hurt, he raced down the fire escape, his lungs barely able to drag in the air he needed to breathe. When he thought he might pass out, he exploded out the door into the parking lot at the back of the apartment building, grateful no one saw him. All eyes were in front, attention focused on his creation, his Act Four, his greatest endeavor yet.
He shivered, his gasps coming out in visible puffs now that he was away from the heat and glow of the fire.
Damn bitch! She would suffer for this as soon as he figured out what the hell had just happened. How had she gotten inside his head like that? He hadn’t imagined it. She’d been in there, looking out through his eyes, taking control of his mind and his emotions. How dare she invade his consciousness that way. His elation had turned to disgust, her disgust, the same disdain with which she’d treated him and his gifts all those years ago.
He faced the moon, searching it for the answers he needed, but the face on its surface sneered at him. This was his fault. He’d let a woman best him. Why? Why had he let it happen again? He was better than they were, and he’d proved it, but still the bitches persisted in defying him.
Instead of reassuring him, the moon’s derision, as it slipped behind a veil of clouds as if it were turning its back on him, increased his agitation. He leaned against a car, knowing he had to calm down. His cold fingers trembled as he reached into the pocket of his down jacket for a joint, having dropped the one he’d been smoking in his haste to get her out of his head.
Damn her to hell! He’d known she would be trouble, but he hadn’t expected her to get inside his head like that. How was that even possible? Even now, he could sense her contempt. He lit the joint, inhaling deeply, letting the drug calm him. He made mistakes when he was upset, like
he had at Duffy’s. He’d skipped the weed that night and look at what had happened. By the time he’d been able to take his drug, he’d almost ruined everything.
Had her Uncle Nick realized she was a witch? A man of God would know. Was that why he’d beaten her? The son of a bitch hadn’t hit her hard enough. He should’ve held an exorcism. Maybe he could do it himself. Under that beautiful, desirable exterior lived the spawn of the devil. Now that he saw her for what she really was, it was his duty to get rid of her, too, but she was going to have to be punished for ruining tonight for him.
He couldn’t rush things. Not now, not when he was so close to Act Five, his piece de resistance. Whatever Alexis had done had to have been brought on by the moon. She’d turned his source of power against him. Had she performed a pagan ritual of some sort? Danced naked under the new moon the way Ralph claimed those women had done last summer?
Maybe she collected dead things of her own and sacrificed them to her new god. That could explain why his gift had barely impacted her, unlike other times when she’d screamed ... Did she cut things open now and read their guts? The image of her covered in blood pleased him. He shook his head. No. That wasn’t her. That was is mother. He was imagining things. Cutting was messy, and Alexis was too fastidious to be messy. He’d seen the way she packed.
Sucking in more of the drug, he stared at the red sky, wishing he could see the fire. He exhaled. Maybe that was what connected them. He’d been close to her before, far closer than she realized, and she hadn’t touched his mind, but now that she had, he knew what she wanted, had seen her thoughts. She would trap him, put him in a cage as if he were some demented animal. The joke was on her. If anyone was going to be caged or trapped, it would be her. She would pay for this.
The cannabis slowed his heart and his breathing, increasing his focus on the here and now. He shook his head as disappointment replaced fury. She’d ruined this for him. The connection had ended when he’d turned away from his creation. How could he enjoy the fruits of his labor before he had to go to work and deal with the consequences of his actions if he couldn’t even look at the inferno he’d created? It had taken weeks to set up, hours and days working right under their very noses, but in the end, Act Four seemed to have gone off without a hitch until she’d destroyed it.
In fact, it had turned out to be everything he wanted and more. Not only had he taken care of the woman who continuously stuck her nose where it didn’t belong, he’d gotten even with the one responsible for his own failed marriage and had managed to get rid of the bikers who’d given him a hard time a few weeks ago. Life was good—that is it was until Alexis got involved.
When that busybody Maxine had mentioned that Hester Rollins was back in town, staying at Providence House for the week giving seminars on empowerment, including on the day he’d chosen for his performance, he knew it had been God who’d arranged it—not Father Martin’s meek God who preached love and forgiveness, but the vengeful God from the Bible who smote his enemies. Hadn’t he rained fire and brimstone on Sodom and Gomorrah?
Providence House! There was nothing wise or providential about it. Back then, Hester had worked out of an office at the hospital in North Bay. His wife had met her when he’d had to take her in to have her arm set. After the accident, she’d changed. He hadn’t meant to hit her that hard, sending her down the stairs that way, but she wouldn’t shut up. Wouldn’t stop blaming him for not being there. Anger churned in his gut once more, calmed only slightly by recalling how the man responsible had begged for his life, until he’d taped his mouth shut and forced his head down onto the table top.
Hester had questioned the nature of her injury as if she had every right to. His wife’s death wasn’t on him. He might’ve been the instrument, but it was Hester’s fault. He’d almost burned this place down years ago when he’d learned that Maxine, the holier than thou woman who’d left her own husband and encouraged others to do the same, was reopening this as a shelter and soup kitchen. But he’d been calmer at that time, able to see both sides of things. Then Rasmus had died and everything changed.
While there’d been a lot of good men, down on their luck, who’d been given a bed and a hot meal at first, the program had deteriorated. Refuge, my ass. It had become a den of iniquity, a haven for dope heads and thieves—Bandit had stayed there for a while. That was when he’d discovered it also housed women who ran away from their lawful husbands.
When Dwayne had mentioned the trouble with his wife and Maxine’s interference, enough was enough. Dwayne would get over her, just as he had, and he would be there to comfort him, bond with him—after all they’d both lost their wives.
He spat and took another puff. Social workers! If he had his way, they’d all be lined up and shot. Nosy busybodies who thought they knew it all, sticking their noses in where they didn’t belong. How many times had he had to play nice with them? He couldn’t resists giving them that last gift. They’d been so appreciative. If it hadn’t been for their interference, he wouldn’t be going home to an empty house each night.
He’d loved his wife in his own way, but like his mother, she just hadn’t understood him. When she’d moved in with him after she’d gone, it had been a hundred times worse than when he’d been a child. He could hear her nagging, preaching about what she called his sickness.
“You of all people should recognize the fact you need help.”
She’d sent him away once to that place where they’d done unspeakable things to him, but he’d fooled them, convinced them he was cured, and they’d sent him home and his step-father had moved them to Paradise to start over. Well, she wasn’t preaching now, was she? Neither of them were, but he was still here.
He took the last drag on the joint, holding the smoke inside as long as he could.
It had to be that stubborn Temagami blood of hers. He’d warned his wife what would happen if she tried to leave again. Twice she’d done it, and he’d had to comb the streets of Montreal looking for her. Both times he’d brought her back, locked her up until she promised to behave, but she’d lied to him. She’d been planning to leave him that day. If he hadn’t dropped home unexpectedly ... He’d snapped.
When she’d picked up the phone to call a cab, he’d wrapped the cord around her neck, knowing how much pressure it took to break the hyoid bone, and pulled until her eyes bulged and her tongue stuck out just like Princess Leia had done to Jabba in Star Wars. When Hester had called that night, demanding to speak to her, threatening to send the police to get her, he’d answered her, crying that his wife had left him vowing to get a divorce and take everything she could from him. He’d sworn he was done with her, wouldn’t bother looking for her this time, and if she changed her mind and came crawling back to him, he wouldn’t let her in. He’d liked that last part. She’d gloated. Well, she wasn’t gloating now.
Standing, he pulled himself together. He needed to get out there. First responders and volunteers had to be in place by now, and he would be conspicuous by his absence. People depended on him in situations like this. He couldn’t let them down.
He stared upward, watching the fire’s glow dance across the sky. He didn’t dare look at it directly again, but he needed to know what was happening, and up close, he would be able to smell it, hear it, and feel its warmth. It would have to do.
He tossed the butt on the ground, grinding it under his heel, and pulled out a cigarette. It wasn’t as good, but it would do. Slipping through the hole in the fence he’d used earlier, he left the lot, heading over to where he’d parked his truck.
Bureaucrats! Always sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. Ev shouldn’t have sent for her. Whatever happened next was on him. That damn sister-in-law of his should’ve minded her own business, just like the others. He’d found the perfect way to punish the disobedient mothers and children. They wanted an escape? He’d given them one. A man was the supreme authority in his home. By flouting that authority, they’d earned their trips to hell.
Bad t
hings happened to those who didn’t obey. Alexis hadn’t obeyed. She’d stuck her nose where it didn’t belong—inside his bloody head—and she would pay the price for that, and it would be a steep painful one.
* * *
Examining the crowd as she made her way through it, Alexis avoided touching anyone and crossed to the emergency vehicles just as the attendants closed the door on the third one and signaled the drivers to pull away. Lights flashing, sirens blaring, the ambulances headed along the road toward the highway.
The remaining paramedic, a woman who seemed too young to be doing the job, was handing out another round of small oxygen cylinders to three boys sitting on the tailgate of the truck.
Smoke inhalation, which according to the ME had been the cause of death for the ten victims so far, was the leading cause of death in any fire. Inhaled fumes and gases injured and killed in three different ways—heat damage to the upper airway, chemical damage to the bronchial tubes, and poisoning by carbon monoxide, cyanide, or any other chemical produced by combustion. Even if the smoke had not burned their lungs, she was sure these boys, because of the time they’d voluntarily stayed in the structure, had probably taken in enough poison to make oxygen necessary.
“Hi, I’m Alexis Michaels,” she said to the paramedic who’d just stepped away from the truck after checking the gauze on a boy’s upper left arm. His shirt had been burned and hung loosely from his shoulder. “I’m working with the Paradise Police Department. Are any of those guys well enough to speak to me?” She indicated the trio on the truck.
“Any of them should be able to talk to you. Those,” the paramedic pointed to another truck a short distance away, “are going to North Bay as soon as the ambulances come back for them. I wish they could make the trip faster. That girl is just a little over five months pregnant. She’s really having difficulty breathing. The last thing she needs is to go into premature labor out here tonight.” She shook her head. “I’m waiting for Dr. Shillingham to get here and have a look at her. An emergency call came in just as all hell broke loose here. Apparently someone collapsed near those buildings.” She indicated the structures behind her. “He should be here soon ... I think she needs to be airlifted to Toronto or Ottawa.”
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