Fire Angel

by Susanne Matthews

  “What do you mean?” Ev asked. “The bikers may not have been the scum of the Earth, but they were troublemakers. Bullying, vandalism, drugs, you name it.”

  “When did Willy tell you about this meeting?” she asked.

  “Around noon today.”

  “Then they can’t be the target. There’s no way he could have put all this in place this afternoon. Who knew about Willy?”

  “Just my closest staff. By all that’s holy, he can’t be one of us! You’ve got to be wrong.” He shook his head. “My sister-in-law was supposed to die in there, wasn’t she?”

  Alexis nodded. “She had a lucky escape. Do you know why she went home? I mean you said she got sick...”

  “She’s been diagnosed with diverticulitis. When the cramps started, she went home for her meds and didn’t bother coming back in to work.”

  “I see. You said there was a seminar tonight?”

  “Yeah. Hester Rollins worked as a social worker in North Bay for years. She probably saved Maxine’s life, made her want to help others. She retired two years ago, but was visiting family in the area, and Max asked if she’d be willing to speak.”

  “When was that set up,” she asked, an idea forming in her head.

  “About two weeks ago,” he said. “Max just started advertising it last week.”

  “I suppose she could be the target, but I’m convinced all his victims were chosen before, along with his methods, and he’s setting scenes for us.”

  “You make it sound like some kind of sick play. Acts and scenes. How can we stop a madman like this?” Linc asked.

  “We’ll follow the bread crumbs he’s leaving us with each performance. That’s all we can do,” she said, a hard edge to her voice. “I’ve got two more fire scenes to examine, this one and the house. They’ll talk to me. You have my word on that.” She turned to Jake.

  “We need to learn all we can about who was staying in that house. Focus on the long-term residents and the staff. He chose this target well before the bikers decided to hold their meeting and those lectures were scheduled. He’s been preparing for this for a while—applying the super glue, reactivating the riot doors, rigging the grease bin and who knows what else. It probably took weeks to do this. The super glue might have been added today, but everything else had to be ready. These aren’t just fires. They’re carefully planned acts of terrorism against the citizens of Paradise. We’re involved in a war with an insane man, a man willing to kill any number of people for the sake of his ideology. The problem is we don’t know what that is.”

  She shivered and hugged herself. A deep cold that had nothing to do with the weather seeped into her soul. She would catch this animal, and when she did, she would make sure that he never saw daylight again.

  * * *

  Jake shuddered. The mention of pipe bombs had dragged him back to Afghanistan and the broken bodies littered around him on that day. Alexis spoke, but her words were gibberish among the endless images from the past. Reaching for her hand, he twined his fingers with hers. He would like to pull her into his arms and hold her, using her to ground himself in the here and now, but what would everyone think? It wouldn’t matter to him, but he was damn sure it would to her. If she was right, and he was pretty damn sure she was, Fire Angel was far more dangerous than anyone had anticipated. Men who fought for ideologies were hard to stop. He’d come up against too many of them in Afghanistan.

  Focus!

  Slowly curbing his demons, he pulled himself together. He would be of no use if he couldn’t leave the past out of the present or the future. It was as if Fire Angel was purposely dragging him through hell, forcing him to face all of his fears and laughing at him because he couldn’t solve the puzzle and identify him. He needed to get away from here before he lost it.

  “Come on,” he said, leading her from the fire. “I’ve had enough. It’s after two, and there isn’t anything else that we can do tonight. Tom’s going to drive us back to the inn. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, and we need to get some sleep.”

  “How long before I can get inside?” she asked.

  “Not sure. It’ll depend on Linc. As far as I know, he still hasn’t signed off on the house. Nobody goes inside until he determines it’s safe.”

  Turning away, he led her over to the police cruiser where the officer waited. Behind them, the fire still raged, lighting up the area, but like them, many of the spectators had decided to call it a night, especially since it had clouded over and the wind had picked up, making life even more miserable for the firefighters. They’d managed to get inside through the roof and a steady stream of body bags flowed down the ladder. He’d counted twelve. How many more would there be?

  Frank was still serving coffee—he’d probably be here all night and then show up right on time at the station in the morning. Over by the rescue truck, the boys Alexis had spoken to had been replaced by firefighters who needed a break. He didn’t see the doctor, but he’d probably accompanied the last ambulance to the hospital.

  Reporters, the carrion eaters of disasters like this, rushed toward them, but Tom ran interference, letting them get settled into the back of the squad car without having to talk to any of them. Ev would hold a press conference tomorrow. The media frenzy could wait until then.

  He let Alexis climb into the cruiser before he followed her. His nose flared as the stench assaulted him. Tom had spread a blanket over the seat, but the unmistakable reek of body odor, urine, and vomit had to be embedded in the car. No amount of air freshener could ever eliminate them.

  “Who died in here?” he asked.

  “Nobody. Pat got called to a drunk and disorderly earlier—drunk was a mild term for his condition. I wiped it down but...” he shrugged “I can crack the window open, but it’ll get chilly back there.”

  “Do it, please,” Alexis said, burying her nose in her scarf. “Not that we smell a lot better. We’ve got coats. We can share body heat if we have to.”

  “That we can,” Jake agreed as Tom opened the windows the two inches they would go down.

  He put his arm around her, and she nestled into him. The smell of smoke would be stronger that close to the wool of his jacket, but she seemed to need this contact as much as he did.

  “I wish you hadn’t left back then,” he said picking up on the conversation they had started in her cabin Sunday night. “I really wanted to take you to that dance. Sally spent weeks teaching me to waltz.” He laughed. “I wasn’t very good at it then. I’m probably even worse now.”

  “You know, if you’d asked me to that dance on Friday, I would’ve said yes and stayed a while longer, but Jake, I would’ve had to leave sooner or later. I couldn’t stay there anymore.” She snuggled closer. “After you left Sunday night, I realized I owed you an explanation and an apology. I never meant to hurt anyone. It just never occurred to me at the time that someone might care. Not the place I would’ve chosen for this, but maybe it’s for the best. I’ve been held prisoner by the sins of others long enough.”

  She spoke softly, barely loud enough for him to hear.

  “What’s past is past,” she continued. “If we’re going to work together, there are some things that you need to know about me, about my ability.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Alexis, but if you want to share, I’ll listen.” Maybe getting it off her chest would help her heal. Talking to the psychiatrist at the hospital after he’d lost his leg had fixed some of his problems—not all of them—but some. If she needed to bare her soul, he would listen and try not to judge.

  * * *

  Alexis inhaled deeply, the aroma of smoke strong in the car but a hundred times better than the stench embedded in its plastic-coated backseat.

  “Every family has secrets. I left here because I was tired of being my uncle’s punching bag. I know people react to alcohol in different ways. Some get all romantic and lovey-dovey, others lose some of their inhibitions and become outgoing and fun, while still another bunch gets emotional. My
boss cries every Christmas, but Uncle Nick wasn’t like that. I don’t know if he drank before my parents died, but he did after. When he drank, he got mean.”

  “Unfortunately, a lot of men do,” Jake said. “Your uncle was a big man back then, and you were pretty small.”

  “At first, when I went to live with them, he ignored me, then it was verbal abuse, hurtful things that tore at a little girl’s heart. As I got older and his drinking got worse, it became sly innuendos, cheap shots, and eventually punches. Aunt Emily and James were scared of him, but they never said a word. Why would they? While he was beating me, he wasn’t hitting them. He was cold and calculated despite the alcohol. Most of the time, his punches never landed where the bruises would show. Come Sunday morning, we’d sit in the second pew and he’d stand in the pulpit, preaching about damnation, hell fire, and the seven deadly sins, every one of which he committed time and time again. James was well on his way to being as bad as he was.”

  “I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, but it does explain why your cousin was such an ass.”

  She nodded. “Somehow Aunt Emily felt it was her duty to suffer in silence; I didn’t. I tried to get help, but no one believed me—I even went to the police. My uncle told them I was a disturbed child, a shameless liar, and a troublemaker.” She chuckled bitterly. “Speak to Ev if you don’t believe me. He’s apologized for doubting me back then. Uncle Nick was a pillar of the community, a man of the cloth. I kept trying to get help. Do you remember when I broke my arm ‘falling out of a tree’ that spring? It happened after I spoke to a social worker in Calvin who suggested I go to an AL-ANON meeting there. Somehow Uncle Nick learned about my plan and he was furious. As soon as my arm healed, I left.”

  “Hey,” Jake said, gently running his fingers along her cheek, brushing away the tears that dribbled down her face. “I’m sorry that I didn’t know. That I didn’t realize. I wasn’t much older than you were, but if I’d known, I’d have done something, anything to help you. You have to believe that.” He pulled her more securely into his arms. “You don’t have to talk about this. I never judged you for leaving. I just missed you. For everyone else, life went on as it always had, but for me, the sunshine had gone.”

  He rested his chin on the top of her head, the gesture strangely comforting.

  “That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” she admitted, unwilling to go back there but knowing she had to. “You need to hear the rest, so you can understand why I do what I do.” She shifted her body so that she could look at him.

  “That night, I climbed out my bedroom window and walked to the truck stop outside of town. I was terrified they would realize I was gone and come after me. James had grabbed me by the hair because I wouldn’t do what he wanted—I don’t even remember exactly what it was. I’d had enough and fought back. He punched me in the face. I had a lulu of a shiner, thought he’d broken my cheekbone, but he actually helped me. I was able to get a ride to Toronto with a lady trucker. She sympathized with the story I told her, most of it lies, but gave me a couple of hundred dollars for food and a room at a hostel.”

  Jake listened silently as she relived the horror of those first few days alone in a strange city.

  “I was terrified each time I saw a police car. I was a minor, and if they found me they would send me back. I tried to get jobs, but everyone wanted ID, so when the money ran out, I lived on the streets, begging, stealing, and sleeping in shelters. That’s where I met Jeanne, a social worker. She did weekly sweeps of the areas where most of the homeless hung out, bringing food and warm clothing. When she found me, I was sick as a dog. She didn’t ask names or reasons, just bundled me up and took me to Sanctuary. It was a haven, much like Providence House, run by this wonderful Chinese family. They fed me, clothed me, and got me back into school. Twelve of us street kids lived with them in an apartment over the Asian food store they owned in Chinatown.”

  “Must’ve been crowded,” he said. “The places I’ve seen on Dundas and Spadina weren’t that big.”

  “It was, but nobody minded. We were happy, felt loved again, and wanted for the first time in a long time.”

  He nodded, and settled her back against his shoulder once more.

  “No one knew Papa Chang was being shaken down by one of the triads. He’d refused to pay for protection. I was on my way back from my part-time job in a coffee shop when the store turned into a fireball.” Her heartbeat quickened. “The entrance to the apartment was at the back of the store. The flames were everywhere, but I didn’t care. I ran inside.” Tears thickened her voice and she swallowed them. “Mamma was lying on the floor. I hurried over to her. I reached for her hand. Her eyes opened. She knew I was there, but then she was gone. I screamed, the pain inside too great to hold back and swore vengeance against whoever was responsible. Suddenly the fire flared, fueled by God alone knew what and the ceiling came down, setting my clothes on fire. The pain was excruciating. But suddenly, it stopped, and I was standing in the doorway, tossing something at the mirror at the back of the store. I saw me reflected there, but it wasn’t me. It was the face of a Chinese boy just a little older than me. He watched the flames engulf the store and looked terrified, then instead of helping, he ran away. I blacked out.”

  “My God. It’s amazing you didn’t die,” he said, his voice filled with the horror she felt.

  She swiped at her face.

  “That’s what the doctors said. The firefighters found me unconscious and managed to free me. They said I was still holding Mamma’s hand. My shoulders, back, buttocks and thighs were covered with third degree burns. My lungs had damage, but I was better off than the others. I was still alive. The scars, the asthma, and my unique ability, what made that writer call me the Fire Psychic, are permanent reminders of that night. When the police questioned me, I told them what I’d seen in my vision, as if I’d been the one to see him throw the Molotov cocktail, because I was positive that was how it had happened, that Mamma had seen him, and somehow shared that knowledge with me at the moment of her death. They confronted the boy, and he confessed, offering to implicate the triad that had hired him, but he was knifed in his cell and died on the way to the hospital.”

  The police car came to a halt. She stopped talking, opened the door, and got out. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to clear the car’s stench from her nose and throat.

  “Thanks for the ride, Tom,” Jake said. “I hope you can get the smell out of there. Do you want coffee before you leave?”

  “No, thanks. I have to get back. I hope you two can figure out who this bastard is sooner rather than later.” He got into the cruiser and drove away.

  “Come on. I’ll make you a cup of warm milk,” he offered. “Besides, you can’t leave me hanging. How did you get from there to here? Where did you go after the fire? How did you pull off the vanishing act?”

  As much as she might not want to finish the story right now, did she really have a choice?

  “When the hospital was ready to release me, they wanted to send me back here, but I refused. Since I was sixteen, there were alternatives. Jeanne got involved again and did some background checking. She managed to trace my mother’s biological father to Tulsa and he came for me. Gramps hadn’t seen Mom in over forty years. My mom was only five when her parents divorced and no one, certainly not Grandma, ever spoke of him.”

  “You were very fond of him, weren’t you?”

  “I was. Gramps was great. He took me back to Tulsa, paid for the reconstructive surgery and therapy, and eventually I came to grips with the guilt. I changed my name to his, got my American citizenship, and put all of it behind me.”

  “When did you decide to become a fire investigator? I mean after that experience, I would think being around fires was the last thing you would want.”

  “So did I, but fate had other ideas. I was almost eighteen when there was a fire on a ranch that belonged to a friend of his. I knew the place well. I’d done some therapeutic riding there. There had been
a storm, and the consensus was that lightning had hit the barn. They managed to get the stock out, but the building was a total loss. The insurance called it an ‘Act of God’ and weren’t going to cover it. The neighbors and those who used the facility decided to help out by tearing down what was left of it and helping him build a new barn.”

  She stopped talking as they crossed the lobby. Jake nodded to a heavyset man sitting between the door to the apartment and the desk. Once inside, she removed her coat, hat and boots. He did the same, before opening the inner door into the apartment.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Seconds later, he returned with a can of deodorizer.

  “Minette uses this to freshen the cabins. Go on in. I’ll spray our clothes. It’ll help.”

  Alexis stepped inside, aware of the fact that the garments she still wore had absorbed the smoke, too. She walked over to the patio doors.

  “Done,” he said, closing and locking the door.

  “It’s starting to rain,” she said. “I would’ve expected snow.”

  “Maybe when you get up, everything will be nice and white. I’ll get the milk. So what happened at the barn?”

  She chuckled. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? You’re about to enter The Twilight Zone.” Sitting down at the table, she leaned back in the chair. She was dead tired. “It gets kind of strange here, so bear with me and please keep an open mind.”