At the moment, his body was reacting to her closeness, skin against skin, but as much as he wanted her, needed her more than he’d ever needed a woman, tonight was not the night to assuage his physical hunger. He had no doubt that he could make love to her right here, right now, but when he did take her, he wanted it to be perfect, not a hurried coupling in a hot tub. He smiled. When had he gotten so noble? He kissed the top of her head and moved her away from him slightly.
No. This was the time for honesty and planning, because whoever or whatever was after her, it ended now. He fumbled for the button to turn off the jets.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go talk about this somewhere a bit dryer. You’re going to turn into a prune if I don’t get you out of this water.” He joked to lighten the situation.
Her tears had subsided, and between the emotional events of the evening and the heat of the tub, there was no doubt she was exhausted. She needed to sleep — they both did — but he needed to finish his confession and find out who was after her first.
She stood up, moved away from him, and stepped out of the spa.
“Wrap up in one of the robes,” he said. “I don’t want you to get cold.” He followed her out of the tub and used the towel she handed him. He’d just finished drying off when he felt a robe being placed in his hands.
A knock at the spa door made her gasp, and she tensed. He put his arm around her to calm her and called out.
“Come in, Nathan.” Nick knew no one else would have the nerve to interrupt him now.
Nathan stuck his head into the room. “Sorry, but you’d better get dressed and come into the living room. We have company. Amos and Beryl are here along with Alexis and Jake McKenzie, and they need to talk to you now. From the look on Amos’ face, it’s important. Misty, Charlotte got these from your room.”
“What time is it?” Nick asked.
“Almost two. They’re leaving Pine Falls and need to be on the road before dawn.”
Nick heard Misty pulling on what he assumed were the clothes Nathan had given her, and reached for the clothing he’d left on the chair earlier. Whatever this late night visit meant, it wasn’t good. Nick was worried. Misty was calm, and that was more disconcerting than her panic had been. Suddenly, he understood. This was the way it had been before. She realized they’d found her, and she assumed they were leaving now. Over my dead body, he thought.
“I’m ready,” she said with a resignation that chilled him. She was like an automaton, cold, unfeeling.
He put his arm around her, drawing her to his side, grateful when she didn’t resist his need to hold her. “You’re not alone, Misty. I’m here now.” He felt her nod. He kissed the top of her head and escorted her into the living room.
Nathan had turned on the fireplace. Nick could hear the blower and see the redness of the flames. He could also see shadows moving about. There was no doubt in his mind his vision was returning, but would it be back soon enough?
“Nick,” Nathan said to help him orient himself. “Why don’t you and Misty sit on the loveseat?”
Nick steered Misty over that way, but two shapes rose and met them before they were halfway across the room.
“Misty, I’m so sorry,” said Beryl, her voice husky, indicating she’d been crying. “I was so worried when Amos couldn’t reach you. He was sure you’d be safe here. We both were.”
“Beryl, honey, go sit down.” Amos spoke softly to his wife. “We don’t have much time, and there’s a lot Misty and Nick need to know.”
“Of course,” Beryl answered. Nick heard her move away, but Amos stayed beside them. Misty’s breathing was shallow. He took her chilled hand in his, hoping to convey the support he was offering. She curled her fingers around his.
Amos took the lead. “I’d like to introduce Alexis and Jake McKenzie. Alexis is one of the nation’s best fire investigators. Because of the good weather yesterday, she decided to have a look at the fire scene early rather than wait in case the weather soured again. She called the house several times and my cell phone, but it had gone dead. I’m getting old; I forgot to recharge it last night. She didn’t have any number for you, Misty, other than the school. It was stupid of me not to have given her Nick’s number. After she reached me, I tried to get you on your cell, but you didn’t answer. I called and left a message with Charlotte. I’ll let Alexis explain what she’s learned, but Misty, you need to know we have trouble — serious trouble.”
The fear and conviction in Amos’ voice were clear indicators the man believed what he was saying. Misty tensed beside him.
• • •
In those quickly spoken words, Misty saw all her hopes and dreams crumble. “You’re scaring me, Amos,” she said, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might come right through her chest.
“Misty, the fire was definitely arson — Alexis will explain that. Whoever torched it probably saw the light on upstairs, your car out front, and thought you were home. I’m sorry, baby, but whoever it is knows you survived the fire. If they weren’t sure of your name or your appearance, they are now. Your picture was in the Canton and Potsdam papers on Saturday. The whole Northland knows your name, what you look like, and that you and your daughter survived the fire.”
“Dear God!” she whispered, tears filling her eyes and bile rising in her throat. “Oh, Amos, what are we going to do? It’ll be almost impossible to disappear this time.” Nick pulled her into his arms, holding her close, giving her support, and she clung to the lifeline he offered.
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Nick whispered in her ear. “I’ll protect you.” He turned toward Amos. “How can you be so certain about the cause of the fire? I spoke to the fire inspector last week. He said it was a faulty gas valve.”
Misty watched Alexis stand. The tall, leggy blonde had long hair pulled back from her face and a small scar on her forehead. She had intriguing almond-shaped eyes that appeared blue and then green. She was about five months pregnant, glowing with good health, but if you looked at her closely, you could tell she was tired. The concern on her face was genuine.
“Mr. Anthony,” she said in a well-modulated voice that held a touch of a southwestern accent. “Why don’t you and Misty sit down, and I’ll do my best to answer your questions.”
“Call me Nick.”
Misty took his hand and moved to the loveseat. They sat, and Nick put his arm around her, holding her close to him as if he thought she’d bolt if he didn’t hold onto her. He was probably right.
“Let me start by apologizing for my delay in arriving,” Alexis began. “As you can see, Jake and I are expecting, and the child has slowed me down some. It took me longer to finish up my last case than it should have. The weather has to take some of that blame.” She walked over to the coffee table, picked up the glass of water sitting there. After drinking half of it, she continued.
“What distinguishes me from other fire inspectors and investigators is that I have a special understanding of fire. I know fire the way others know nature. A good guide knows how to find the signs to tell him where the prey has gone, how it’s behaving, if it’s been injured. I can do the same thing, more or less, with fire. I can profile it the way Jake and Amos profile criminals. You’re a musician, Nick. Think of sheet music. To someone who understands it, the notes show the beauty of the music; to someone who doesn’t, they’re just meaningless squiggles on lined paper. I understand fire’s behavior, and by doing so, I can tell you how it started. It’s this ability to see beyond what’s there that allows me to find what others often miss. Now that I’ve been to the scene, I know it was no accident, nor was it a faulty valve.”
“That makes no sense. Fire isn’t a person; it can’t be understood that way. It’s unpredictable.” Misty heard the skepticism in Nick’s voice.
“People have different talents, Nick. Some can predict the future. I have a talent that le
ts me know how a fire behaved and why it acted as it did. It’s no different from a doctor’s understanding of a disease. I go in looking for arson. I find all the physical evidence, weigh it up, and look for patterns and inconsistencies then I formulate my hypothesis. By doing this, I can re-create the events that led to the fire, the way it progressed, and occasionally get a glimpse into the arsonist’s mind. Let me show you.”
Misty stared at the stack of eight by ten glossies Alexis took out of a manila envelope and placed on the table.
“I’ll describe what’s in each photograph. Before I start, are there any questions?” Alexis paused. “Okay. The first thing you need to understand is that this was a fire of opportunity, not the planned fire of a trained arsonist or even a pyromaniac. Everything used was something handy. Despite all the rain, Jake found evidence that someone had been watching the house. There is a lot of brush at the back of your yard where it abuts state land. Under a tree in the far corner of the yard, not too far from your garage, he found footprints and cigarette butts. The person stood in one place for a long period of time. There were a dozen cigarette butts.” She handed Misty a picture of trampled grass and cigarette butts.
“Now,” Alexis continued, “your garage has a side door to it located on the far side — it’s a strange setup until you remember that there was a vegetable garden over there. My guess is that the door was added specifically because of the garden. That side of your yard is next to an empty lot. Someone used a sharp instrument, most likely a nail file, to pick the lock on that door.” Alexis handed Misty two pictures. One of them showed the garage door, the other was a close-up of the lock; small scratches could be seen on the metal.
“Do you want me to describe the pictures?” she asked Nick.
“No, it’s okay. I want to hear more about this. What happened next?”
Alexis finished her water. “The arsonist used Misty’s tools and the gasoline for the lawnmower to start the fire. Pretty ballsy, but amateurish. She used your wrench to turn off the gas feed to the house. The valve is next to the meter on your back porch. I matched the teeth from your wrench to the marks on the valve. I checked with the gas company; they use a different size wrench, one with a heavy polymer coating to avoid sparks. Once the gas was off, she probably waited five or ten minutes to make sure the lines bled out and the pilot lights were off. When she assumed enough time had elapsed, she turned the gas on again. That’s why the fire inspector thought the valve had malfunctioned. He didn’t think it could have been turned off and turned on deliberately. Most of the time, unless someone knows they’re looking for arson evidence, they settle for the obvious, practical answers. He probably didn’t realize that the wrench over here, in the corner” — she pointed at a blackened object in one of the photographs — “is completely out of place given the other objects on the veranda. When there’s one tool left lying around, there are usually others. You kept everything tidy; I could tell from the garage. The only tool missing from those mounted on the wall was that pipe wrench. Once I cleaned off the soot on the valve and the wrench, I had my match.”
Misty examined the photographs. Amos had organized the garage. She could barely tell the difference between a pair of pliers and a wrench. She definitely hadn’t left the wrench on the porch. Nick was quiet, his face a study in concentration as if he was trying to make sense of everything. She sat back, and he pulled her closer.
“So he let the gas seep into the house. We could have died from that, but while that doesn’t explain the fire, I suppose it does explain the explosion.” Misty shivered. Nick pressed his lips to her head.
“Take a look at this.” Alexis handed her another photograph.
Misty examined the picture. “It’s my recycling bin. It was on the porch — that’s where I kept it. What’s that blob on top?”
“It’s what’s left of a small metal jerry can you had. We found the cover in the trashcan in the garage. After she turned the gas back on, the arsonist poured the gasoline onto the veranda and the wall, making sure to soak all around the window. She used a rock to break the window, threw a bottle filled with flammable liquid through the hole, and poured gasoline into the kitchen. My portable hydrocarbon detector mapped the trajectory of the gasoline, and it had been thrown pretty much all over the wall and veranda. She tossed the empty can in your recyclables knowing no one would consider it out of place. People often dispose of those old cans as they rust out.”
Misty looked at the photograph again. She stared at the image, morbidly fascinated by what Alexis had said. She leaned closer to Nick. If this had been a spur of the moment fire, she wondered what constituted a planned one.
“Once everything was in place, she pushed the recycling bin up against the gasoline soaked walls, and using a lighter, started the fire in the recycling bin knowing the gasoline would quickly ignite, and the flames would move up the wall and into the kitchen where the leaking gas exploded. At first I thought the bottle tossed into the kitchen had been a mickey — you know, a twelve-ounce liquor bottle — but there didn’t seem to be enough glass for that. When I checked the residue on the blobs of melted glass I found in the area near the kitchen window, I discovered it was acetone — nail polish remover.” She handed Misty the last picture.
“You said “she.” Do you think a woman did all this?” Nick asked, disbelief strong in his voice.
“Yes, we do. There was a lot of hate and anger in her; she didn’t stop to think how many others could have been killed. If your neighbors hadn’t called the fire department when they did, the whole neighborhood might have gone up in smoke. You’re dealing with a very dangerous individual, a sociopath who doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as she reaches her objective — killing you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Misty moved out of Nick’s arms and stood. She took a couple of steps until she was beside Alexis who was gathering her photographs. Misty touched her on the shoulder to get her attention. Alexis straightened and looked at her.
“I want to thank you for coming here and doing what you’ve done. I can see how the evidence you collected fits together, but I don’t understand why you’re convinced it’s a woman. I don’t think they’ve ever sent a woman after me before. What proof do you have?”
“Don’t kid yourself. Women can be as vicious as men. The size of the footprints, lipstick on the cigarette butts, and the acetone — it isn’t something a man generally carries, but women, especially those with long, manicured nails, often have small bottles in a case in their purses for emergency touchups. As I said, she used what was handy. Misty, this person, whoever she is, may not be a professional arsonist, but she’s smart and knows how to use what she can find to do the job. She’s resourceful, strong, and patient. It would have taken a lot of muscle to turn that gas valve off. They’re designed to be hard to open as a safety feature. Breaking into the garage first to see what she could find and adapting to the situation shows she can think on her feet, and taking the time to do the job properly shows she can be persistent and follow through with her plans.” Alexis slipped the photographs into the envelope and continued.
“But she has flaws, and we’ll catch her. She’s impulsive and arrogant. She thinks she can’t be caught. She believes we won’t find the mistakes she’s made, but she’s wrong. Her first error was in not verifying you were home. She saw what she believed was an opportunity to accomplish her goal and took it. Not everyone would know that you could turn the valve off and on that way. She’s detail-oriented. It took me a while to find the evidence she’d left behind, but I can be pretty stubborn when it comes to fires. The rock she used to break the window was left on the outside of the house next to the wrench. The acetone bottle couldn’t have broken through the window on its own. She covered some of her tracks, but not all of them. If her objective is killing you, she won’t stop trying until you’re dead.”
“The brakes,” cried Nick, jumping up a
nd moving to Misty’s side. He put his arm around her and pulled her tightly against him. “Someone tampered with her brakes tonight. Either that woman did it, or she had someone do it for her, but I have no doubt that’s what happened.” He described the events on the way home from Murphy’s. “The car’s been taken to Micah’s, so we can verify that in the morning.”
“I’ve been getting blocked calls on my cell phone,” added Misty, “Amos, you know how rarely I use the thing. The marshals drilled the dangers of that into me five years ago. I tried to redial the number and got an operator telling me I needed an international code to complete the call. Amber thinks it’s those scammers from last summer. Could it be related?”
“I don’t know for sure, but whatever you do, don’t turn on that phone,” said Jake, joining the conversation. “Throw it in the river. If it’s the standard ones the marshals recommend, it’s a model without GPS, so unless you’re using it, they can’t use it to find you. I think my wife hit the nail on the head — finding you was unexpected, and she reacted to the situation without thinking things through and waiting for help. The need for an international code means the call’s coming from a cell phone that isn’t North American. You can block your phone number here by dialing six-one-one or sixty-seven before you dial the number. European countries have different codes.”
Amos sat next to Beryl. “I take it you’d consider cutting the brake lines another crime of opportunity?”
Jake nodded. “If she’d had time to plan, she’d have chosen something guaranteed to do the job. She wouldn’t know how long you’d be in the bar or when the brakes would fail.”
“The car!” Nathan jumped up. “There was a car that came along after I reached them. It slowed down, and then sped up after it had passed us.”
“I remember,” said Nick, holding her tightly. “I’ll bet she was coming to finish the job, but seeing you there and not knowing who else we might have called ended her plans.”
In Plain Sight Page 20