Obsessed

by Margaret Daley

  Quinn and Brutus painstakingly went through the rubbish of the remains of the fire and discovered another ignition point on the opposite side of the house. As he carried the evidence to his SUV, a car pulled up behind his.

  Quinn recognized the other arson inspector, Cliff Butler, as he slid from what must have been his private vehicle. The man in jeans and T-shirt strode to him.

  Quinn moved forward and shook Cliff’s hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Cliff surveyed the fire scene. “You’ve been busy, I see.”

  “Yeah, two suspected arson fires this week, and it’s not even over yet.”

  “I wanted to let you know I can help you if you need it. In fact, the chief suggested I take over one of them.”

  “These two might be connected, so I’d rather work on both of them.”

  “What makes you say they’re connected?”

  “Possibly the same type of ignition device. I found two of them here. I’ll have the wood in the back of my car tested to see if the accelerant is the same. I won’t be surprised if it is.”

  “You’ve worked fast.”

  Quinn patted Brutus on the top of his head. “An arson dog can really cut down the time when looking for evidence of how a fire starts.”

  Cliff nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard. I’m glad the fire department has hired both you and your dog. Next time I’d love for you to call me, so I can see him at work.” He withdrew a business card from his pocket. “That has my home number on it.”

  “I will. Brutus and I just fell into this partnership.”

  “One day you’ll have to tell me the story. I won’t keep you from your work.”

  Before Cliff had a chance to leave, Quinn said, “Here’s my home number. Call me if you need Brutus and me.”

  He smiled. “I will.” He headed back to his vehicle and pulled away.

  Quinn and Brutus circled the house, checking for any possible evidence that could help him find the arsonist—perhaps something he dropped that would have his fingerprints or DNA on it. He noticed a security camera at the back and front doors. The one at the kitchen was knocked down with part of it smashed. Maybe it had been damaged by the firefighters last night while they put out the fire. He’d check with the family to see where the video footage from the cameras was stored. Most likely inside the house, which meant it was probably destroyed by the water and fire.

  The neighbor next door, Adam Winters, whom Quinn had met recently, leaned against the chain-link fence between the two yards. “So, you’re a firefighter?”

  Quinn intended to interview all the neighbors. Deciding he might as well talk to Winters now, he strolled to the middle-aged man with dyed bleach blond hair. “Did you see anything suspicious last night?”

  The neighbor shook his head. “I was in the den on the other side of my house. Until I heard the sirens, I was clueless.”

  “You didn’t see anyone hanging around? It could have been earlier.”

  “Yeah, you and the lady in the West’s backyard yesterday. Otherwise no one else.”

  “Did you see anyone after the fire who didn’t belong in this neighborhood?”

  “Neighbors gawking and a couple of teens early this morning. I ran them off.”

  “Can you describe any of the trespassers?” Quinn took out a pad and pen to write down any information Winters had.

  “The neighbors on the other side and a couple I’ve seen across the street. But none of them went past the crime scene tape.”

  “How about the teenagers?”

  “They were halfway to the house when I confronted them, and they scattered.”

  “How many?”

  “Three.”

  “Do you know any of them?”

  Winters shook his head. “I’ve only been living at this place for a few months, and I don’t know everyone around here.”

  “Can you describe them?”

  He slanted his gaze downward. His forehead crinkled. “When they saw me watching, they fled. Three guys. One short and skinny. Two about five feet ten inches to six feet tall.”

  “Which way did they run?”

  Winters pointed in the direction of the city park at the end of the street.

  “Anything else?”

  “No. I was half asleep. I hadn’t had my coffee yet. I came out here to get the morning paper.”

  “If you think of anything else, call me.” He gave Winters a business card.

  Quinn wrapped up his visit to the fire scene and drove to headquarters to turn in the evidence. He had firefighters and others to interview. He would start with the family. Blaine was still in the hospital. Unless needed somewhere else, Quinn would go see the teenager and parents first.

  After working with Brutus, Quinn took him home, returned him to the backyard, then called Firehouse 14 to let them know he would be at the hospital with the West family. He made a sandwich, grabbed a water, and left to interview Mr. and Mrs. West and he hoped Blaine. He knew how dangerous smoke inhalation could be for the teen. If a person set the house on fire, was it because of Blaine? As fast as the fire spread, he was lucky to make it to the staircase and partway down the steps.

  At the hospital, Quinn entered Blaine’s room where his parents were. The teenager lay in bed with a tube down his throat.

  Quinn approached Mr. and Mrs. West sitting on a small couch. “How’s Blaine doing?”

  “Stable now. They have him sedated.” Mr. West stood and shook Quinn’s hand. “I want to thank you for driving me to the hospital last night. How bad is the house?”

  “The second floor on both sides collapsed with the middle still standing partially. Have you contacted your insurance company?”

  “Yes, this morning. Any idea what caused the fire?”

  “I suspect it was arson.”

  Mrs. West paled. “How? Why?” Her voice cracked as her eyes glistened with tears.

  Mr. West took his seat and embraced his wife, cuddling her against him. He gestured to Quinn to sit in the chair next to the sofa.

  “I don’t have the answer on why, but I believe there were at least two ignition points upstairs. One was in your son’s room, and the other is in the second bedroom on the opposite side.”

  “Our fire alarm upstairs didn’t go off. Only the two on the first floor. I check all of them every six months, and they were okay six weeks ago.” Blaine’s father shook his head. “If it had sounded, he should have had enough time to get down the stairs.”

  “Is anyone angry with you two? Or Blaine?”

  “Enough to try to kill us? My son’s lungs have been compromised. He may have trouble the rest of his life. No. I can’t think of anyone who would want to do that.”

  “When did you come home yesterday?”

  “My wife arrived at five, and I’m usually at the house by five thirty or six. I don’t remember the exact time.”

  “How about Blaine?”

  “Most of the time he’s there by four. Why?”

  “Because your neighbor behind you saw your kitchen door was open at three thirty. I also saw it.” Quinn explained to the Wests about Susie going missing and then suddenly appearing in her owner’s backyard yesterday.

  “I guess Blaine could have come home earlier than usual.” Mrs. West dabbed her tears away with a tissue.

  “I need to find out from Blaine because that might have been when someone came into your house and set up an accelerant to flame at a designated time. I found the remains of what could have been an electronic timer.”

  “I can’t believe someone would do that. It just doesn’t make any sense.” Mr. West curled his hands into tight fists.

  “When Blaine can talk, I need to speak with him. Give me a call at any time, and I’ll come. I’m informing the police of my findings. I’ll have the test results soon, and they should collaborate my theory of what happened.”

  “Blaine could be in danger.” Mrs. West dropped her head forward, rubbing her left thumb into her right palm. “What has
Blaine done to cause someone to be so angry that he burned down our home?”

  “If that’s the case, I intend to find out why. That’s why I’m bringing the police in right away.” He didn’t tell the Wests that their house fire was similar to another one that week.

  Mr. West rose at the same time as Quinn. “Thank you for letting us know about your concerns. We’ll have someone in this room at all times.”

  Quinn left Blaine’s hospital room, called the lab to put a rush on the evidence he found at the Wests’ home, then decided to go to the police station and discuss his findings with Detective Brock Harris, assigned to the case. He didn’t have a good feeling about this case. If it was the same arsonist, he’d struck only days apart. Did that mean there would be another fire soon? So far no one had died in the blaze nor had the flames spread to other houses, but that could change easily, especially with dry and windy weather.

  * * *

  On Friday, Serena had a lot of questions for Quinn. When she’d brought Brutus back to Quinn’s yard, on impulse she’d withdrawn a pad from her purse, written a note about him joining her for lunch at the school along with the time she would be in the cafeteria, and then pinned the note on his back door. After getting a chef salad for lunch, she sat at an empty table and looked at the clock on the wall. If he’d been able to come, he would have been here by now. She checked her cell phone, but there weren’t any messages left by Quinn. She tried calling Quinn to see if he was coming. When he didn’t answer, she left a message about the note and to call when he got a chance.

  Aaron Prescott approached her table and took a seat across from her. “I heard about Blaine West. He’s in your class?”

  “Yes. I’m going to see him at the hospital after school.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “They’re supposed to remove his tube this morning, which is a good thing, but that’s all I know.” Serena glanced toward the entrance. Still no sign of Quinn. It wasn’t like him not to let her know he couldn’t come. But then there was probably nothing wrong. Maybe he hadn’t come home yet because of the arson cases. She’d hoped he could figure out who the arsonist was before someone died.

  “You okay? You seem hundreds of miles away.”

  She blinked and shifted her attention to Aaron. “Sorry. I’m worried about Blaine. He lives behind me, and I saw the fire.” She shivered. “Awful. He barely made it out alive.”

  Jay Thompson took the vacant chair next to Serena. “I’m sorry to hear about Blaine. He’s in my seminar class. I only see him once a week. Have you heard anything about him?”

  Serena told Jay what she knew then asked him, “Is Quinn going to work with your team this afternoon?” With all this talk about Blaine, she needed to see that Quinn was all right. Lately, her feeling of security was eroding even after finding last night on the Internet that Brett Porter was in jail in Mobile—and had been for the past six months for his third DUI. The question that haunted her now was: what if he hadn’t been her stalker? Then who was?

  “Not today. Quinn called this morning and said he was tied up with an arson case.” Jay took a bite of his hamburger.

  While Aaron asked Jay about one of his ESL students on his baseball team, Serena tuned the two men out and quickly ate her salad. Unanswered questions churned in her mind. She’d needed closure on her stalker. Maybe she should have stayed in Mobile and tried to figure out who he was and find evidence to have him arrested. But she couldn’t put her family or others in danger because of this guy’s fixation on her.

  “Serena, are you all right?” Aaron asked.

  She rose. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m glad it’s the weekend tomorrow and spring break next week. See you, later.”

  She couldn’t get out of the teacher’s cafeteria fast enough. Too many people. She hurried back to her room, entered, and closed the door, locking it. She inhaled deep breaths then released them slowly, trying to maintain her composure.

  Please, Lord, heal Blaine. He has his whole life ahead of him. Why would someone want to kill him? Is there something else going on that has nothing to do with what happened in Mobile?

  The bell rang, announcing that the students had five minutes to get to their fourth hour class. Serena crossed her room and unlocked the door then stood out in the hallway as the teens passed by. Several of Blaine’s friends walked toward her, their expressions somber. Had Blaine taken a turn for the worst?

  Chapter Thirteen

  As I tried to figure out what to do next, I picked up a stick of black licorice and bit off a chunk of it. Delicious. Had Blaine learned his lesson, or should I finish the job I started on Wednesday? At least the Wests will have to live somewhere else for a while, and maybe they won’t return to their house but move away—hopefully from Cimarron City.

  As I passed a mirror in the hallway, I stopped and smiled. I made a promise to myself that Kathleen—no, Serena—would be safe. I would always protect her, and I don’t ever break a promise. I stared at my new image. It took several surgeries to produce my new look, but I like it. I hated wearing glasses, and my new colored contacts even helped change my appearance.

  She’ll be surprised when I finally tell her who I am. I will win her love one way or another.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After school on Friday, Serena lightly knocked on Blaine’s hospital room door. When Mrs. West let her in, Serena glanced at the empty bed. “Where’s Blaine?”

  “Getting a chest X-ray. He’s doing better. They took out his tube, and he’ll be back soon. My husband went with him because we’re not leaving him alone. I can’t believe someone tried to kill him.”

  “What?” Serena hadn’t talked with Quinn since the fire, although he had texted her to see if she was all right several times yesterday while he was on duty at the firehouse, but he didn’t tell her anything about the case.

  “The arson inspector said that if Blaine hadn’t gotten to the stairs when he did he wouldn’t have made it. The fire was set by an arsonist. It started in my son’s bedroom.”

  Serena had hoped their house burning down had been an accident. Why would anyone target the West family, especially Blaine?

  Lord, please don’t let this be connected to what happened in Mobile.

  Maybe she was overreacting. She needed to talk to Quinn and find out exactly what was going on.

  The opening door drew Serena’s attention. An orderly pushed Blaine, who was in a wheelchair, into the room. Mr. West followed behind. The teen locked eyes with her for a few seconds then lowered his head, coughing.

  Serena backed away, so the orderly could position the wheelchair next to the bed. Then he assisted Blaine into the bed. Her student was six feet tall with a burly body, but at the moment, he appeared defeated. The sight of Blaine’s struggle as he settled into his bed, his breathing shallow with little exertion, twisted her heart. When the teenager settled onto the mattress, he grabbed the oxygen mask and put it over his mouth and nose.

  “Maybe I should come back later,” Serena whispered to Blaine’s mother.

  “No. Blaine wanted to talk to you. I was going to call you and see if you would come see him.”

  As the orderly pushed the wheelchair from the room, Mr. West sat in a chair on the other side of the bed. “I appreciate you helping me get to the hospital Wednesday night, Ms. Remington.”

  “I came today to see how your son was doing.” She shifted her attention to her student. “Blaine, don’t worry about school. When you’re feeling better, I’ll help you to catch up. I’m so glad you’re healing.”

  His face ashen, he held the mask over his mouth and nose and sucked in more oxygen. Mr. West leaned forward to help secure the mask over his son’s face, but Blaine jerked it away from his dad’s reach.

  “I need…” the teen coughed “…to talk to you.” Blaine’s gaze fixed on Serena.

  His emphasis on the word need, as though he was desperate, moved her toward her student. “I don’t want you to strain yourself. I can come back when y
ou’re feeling better if you want.”

  “No. I want to now.” The hoarseness in his voice highlighted Blaine’s angst. He dropped his gaze and stared at the sheet covering him. “I hit your fence with a sledge hammer…several times. I was swinging it around and struck the ground,” he began coughing. “and anything around me…your fence,” he continued in a wheezing voice. “I made the hole in it.”

  His father handed him the oxygen mask, and his son breathed into it then set it in his lap. “Blaine, I don’t think Ms. Remington will mind talking to you later.”

  “Yes, I can talk—”

  “I was mad at you,” the teenager interrupted Serena. “You’re always pushing me…” more coughs filled the air “…to do better. I hate school.”

  “You took Susie?”

  The teenager closed his eyes. After using the oxygen mask again, he shook his head. “Not really. Before school Wednesday…I found your poodle at my back door. I let her into the house. I figured you…already left for…school. I was gonna tell you,” he struggled to get the last sentence out, “in class.”

  “I’ve got Susie. That’s all that matters besides you getting well. We can talk later when you’re better.” Serena stepped closer and put her hand on the railing, relieved it wasn’t something more sinister. “Thanks for telling me. You let her out, and she ended up back in my yard.” She nodded at his parents and swung around to leave.

  She was halfway to the door when Blaine squeaked out, “I didn’t let her out. She was gone when I got home from school.”

  His words chilled her. She remembered seeing their back door open. Had the arsonist let Susie out?