A Hope City Duet

by Kris Michaels

  Turning their bodies in unison with their arms still around each other, he looked toward the side of the house and saw Brock walking slowly through the gate. As soon as Brock’s gaze landed on the two of them, he halted, his eyes wide. Sean recognized his best friend’s shock, knowing Sean never brought women to his house.

  “Whoa, sorry. I wasn’t expecting… I didn’t know…”

  “Brock, man. What the hell are you doing here?” Glancing to the side, he watched Harper nervously brush her hair behind her ears before smoothing her hands over the bottom of her shirt. Whispering, he assured, “You look perfect, babe. Come and meet my best friend.”

  Brock’s expression morphed into a wide smile as Sean stalked toward him, Harper in tow. “Harper, it’s nice to meet you.”

  Sean watched as her hand was engulfed in Brock’s and grinned.

  “It’s nice to meet you as well, but… weren’t you just… um… shot?” Her eyes were wide as her gaze swung between Brock and Sean. Settling back on Brock, she added, “I’ve heard a lot about you, and in fact, I met your parents last night at the same time that I met Sean’s.”

  Shaking his head while laughing, Brock said, “If you had dinner at Sharon and Colm’s, then I’m not surprised you met my parents also. The McBrides and Kings go way back. And yes, I did get shot but needed to get out of the house.”

  “Where’s Kallie?”

  “She went into the station. I’m supposed to be resting but thought it would be a good time to sneak out and visit Sean.”

  “Come on in,” Sean invited. “We’re just getting ready to have breakfast.”

  Giving his head a shake, Brock declined. “Thanks, but I’m not going to cut into your time.”

  “No, please, stay. That is, if you feel like it,” Harper insisted. “I don’t want to interfere with the little time you two have to get together.”

  Sean held Brock’s gaze, seeing the unspoken question in his eyes, and nodded, confirming that he shared Harper’s insistence.

  The three walked through the back door and into the kitchen. Harper moved to the coffee pot, pouring three mugs as Sean scrambled eggs. Showing an ease in Sean’s kitchen, she popped the bagels into the toaster before retrieving the butter and jam.

  Over breakfast, Sean and Brock regaled Harper with stories of their childhood as well as teenage adventures along with a few misadventures. Brock managed to keep the tales PG for which Sean was grateful. Keeping an eye on Harper, he was thrilled to see that she appeared excited to learn more about him, including his best friend.

  “So, your dads studied astronomy?” She scrunched her nose as she peered between them. “Was that their hobby?”

  Brock nodded, another grin spreading across his face. “Yeah. I just figured it was kind of weird when we were kids, but now that I look back, I think it was a real stress reliever.”

  “I can see that. Their jobs, like yours now, are stressful,” she said, her gaze shifting to Sean. “Do you still look at the stars?”

  Both men chuckled at the same time. “I wish I had the time,” Sean admitted, and Brock nodded his agreement. Staring at Harper, an image of her with him and their children running around hit him. “But with this backyard and the idea of children, I might get my own telescope sometime.”

  Harper blushed, and Brock choked out a laugh. “Subtle, man,” Brock teased.

  The conversation turned to Harper, and Brock took the time to find out more about her, offering congratulations on becoming a fire investigator. As breakfast came to a close, Brock looked at Sean and asked, “Heard you were out late with another case last night.”

  Sighing, Sean told them about the fire from the previous night. After describing the building and the evidence they collected, he said, “It was definitely arson, and probably our arsonist, but we won’t know until we get the lab results back.”

  “And the body?”

  “Body?” Harper squeaked. “There was a body?”

  Oh, fuckin’ hell. He had not said anything to Harper and now looked at her expression of horror.

  “Shit, man,” Brock winced. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

  Sean leaned forward, cupping the back of her head and leaning in close. “Babe, it was not in the fire. It was a homeless person who probably died of smoke inhalation from the fire next door.”

  She sighed heavily and he watched as resignation settled in her eyes. They were quiet for a moment, and then she asked, “Is that treated as a homicide or still an arson case?”

  “We won’t know until we get the report back from the autopsy. The medical examiner will let us know what she finds. It will let us know if the person was already deceased, killed in another way, or died of a result of the fire.”

  Harper shifted her gaze toward Brock. “Like your case?”

  He lifted his chin in agreement, not entering the conversation but appearing to study her carefully.

  She blinked, shaking her head, chewing slowly. “I have no idea how you two do it. For me, I’m usually just investigating a fire to see if we can determine a cause. Obviously, arson is determined by the firefighters and then you’re called in to pursue the criminal aspects. Most of the time, I’m just clearing the way so that the owner of the property or home can get their insurance check to start over. But you? You have to consider all the various criminal aspects.”

  Sean said, “It’s like a puzzle that we try to figure out, but I confess that arson cases are hard to solve if it’s not someone motivated by greed, like some of your clients who are trying to defraud the insurance company.”

  “I know some people are fascinated with fire, and of course, the news is full of the fire that tried to conceal Samuel Treyson’s murder. I also remember that you mentioned vandalism, like with the gangs. What are the other motives that you look for?”

  “We used to call it extremist, but now the word terrorism is used for some.” Seeing her wide-eyed jolt, Sean explained, “This could be someone who sets fire to an abortion clinic because they’re protesting abortion or a food processing plant because they are protesting the slaughter of animals. Often these are easier to solve because they want to take responsibility and be known as the terrorist.”

  “That’s not what you’re looking for with the serial arsonist, is it?” Now finished with breakfast, she drew her feet up onto her chair and rested her chin on her knees.

  He could not help but smile, noting her comfortable and familiar way of sitting. Love seeing her comfortable in my home… ‘cause I want her here a lot. He caught Brock’s grin and had no doubt his best friend was thinking the same thing.

  Focusing on Harper’s unwavering stare, he continued his explanation. “Very often, a serial arsonist is motivated by revenge. It’s closely tied to what we know as firefighter arson.”

  Lifting her head in surprise, she repeated, “Firefighter arson?”

  “With revenge, fires are set in retaliation for some perceived injustice. Sometimes that’s by a person who was denied being able to become a firefighter. Firefighter arson can be tied into a hero complex. They want to rush in and save and will perhaps set a fire so that they can do that. So, it could be an active firefighter or someone who wanted to become one and was unable to pass the tests, and so their dream of being a hero is denied.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly, thoughts working behind her eyes. “And you think this is who you’re looking for.”

  “It might be looking for a needle in a haystack, but yes, it’s a possibility for our serial arsonist.” He liked that she did not offer him empty platitudes, assuring him that he would catch the arsonist but offered quiet support instead.

  Brock’s phone vibrated and he pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. Sighing, he drained the last of his coffee. “I’ve got to go. Kallie’s heading back to my place.” He waved his hand toward Harper as he stood. “Don’t get up. I can see myself out.” Bending gently, he kissed her cheek and whispered, “It’s good to meet you. Thank
s for taking care of my boy.”

  Sean observed Harper’s eyes widening as a smile crossed her face. Standing as well, he clapped Brock on the shoulder. “I’ll walk you out.”

  The two friends walked out the door and halfway down the front walk before stopping. Brock glanced back toward the house and grinned. “This looks good on you, Sean.”

  He tilted his head to the side and waited to see what else Brock would say.

  “Couldn’t believe it when you bought this house in the fuckin’ suburbs. But now, seeing the two of you here... it fits.”

  He smiled at his friend as he thought of Harper inside, so at ease in his home, so comfortable, so natural. “You’re right... she’s perfect. Here, and for me.” He hesitated and then asked, “When are you going to bring Kallie over?”

  Brock grinned. “Anytime, man… anytime.”

  They met each other’s gaze, then moved in for back slaps. “Then we’ll plan it soon. Take care, Brock.”

  “Always,” Brock replied with a cocky grin. “You too.”

  Giving a chin lift in agreement, he watched as Brock slowly walked to his vehicle. Lost in thought for a moment, he jolted as small hands touched his back before sliding around his waist. Feeling Harper’s front press against his back, he knew he wanted to have her with him every day.

  Turning around so that his front was now pressed against Harper’s, words flew from his mind as he stared at her fresh-faced beauty so intently looking up at him. Leaning forward, he kissed her, intending for the touch to be gentle, but with the tip of her tongue on his, it flamed. Scooping her into his arms, he laughed as she squealed in delight, hanging on tightly as he stalked up the stairs toward the bedroom.

  27

  Sean sat at his desk glancing toward Jonas, both with files and lists in front of them. A week had passed and there had been one more fire. The ash evidence proved that their arsonist was still using phosphorus and carbon disulfide and the pile of rocks still his calling card.

  His phone rang and he answered it with his usual greeting. “McBride.”

  “Detective McBride? Of the Arson Division?”

  “Yes, ma’am. May I help you?”

  “I’m hoping that I can help you,” she replied. “I’m Valerie Gladden. I believe you sent in a request to speak to me. I’m an FBI profiler specializing in arsonists.”

  He sat up straighter in his seat. “Yes, thank you for calling Agent Gladden.”

  “Oh, just call me Valerie.”

  “Would you mind if I put us on speaker so that my partner, Jonas Miller, can hear us as well?”

  “I’m actually driving right now and prefer not to try to have an involved conversation while in traffic. I’m not too far from the Inner Harbor of Hope City. Would we be able to meet for coffee?”

  Agreeing, he gave her the name of Casey’s Diner. “It’s not too far, and my partner and I can meet you there in thirty minutes.” Disconnecting, he looked at Jonas and explained who Valerie was and where they were meeting.

  Thirty minutes later, he and Jonas were in a booth, sitting across from Valerie, an attractive woman with her blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail and the FBI’s prerequisite dark pantsuit and white blouse.

  “To be honest, I doubt that there’s much I can offer you that you don’t already know,” she confessed, taking a sip of her coffee.

  “At this point, we’ll take anything,” Sean said.

  “There are numerous profiles on arsonists, but of course, the problem with profiles is that they’re not exact. For example, the information comes from arsonists that have been caught, not the arsonists that have gotten away. According to one report in the FBI Law Enforcement Bulletin, the majority of profiled arsonists have a below-normal IQ, with one in four falling into the below seventy IQ range. Of course, we can only use that information in the context that it came from profiled arsonists… those who were caught. There are many more arsonists out there who were never caught, probably having a much higher IQ, therefore skewing the statistic. According to the Department of Homeland Security, half of all arsons are committed by those younger than the age of eighteen, and the other half is typically in their twenties. Older arsonists are usually motivated by profit. Interestingly enough, about ninety percent of arsonists are male and usually white.”

  Sean rubbed his chin and shook his head slightly. “I just don’t see our guy being in his twenties. It seems random, and yet I’m sure that it’s not. I know that he’s working methodically. That just seems like an older person to me.”

  Nodding, Valerie agreed. “That’s why we have to be leery of profiling arsonists because, as I said, those are based on the ones who have been caught. There’s an expert in the field who counsels young arsonists and said that many of his patients are extremely bright. They often have a history of neglect and physical abuse. Those are often sexually aroused by fire.”

  “Jesus,” Jonas said, leaning forward with his forearms on the table.

  “These are things that are more recently coming out,” Valerie continued. “In the past, it’s been hard to study arson because of the compilation and analysis of the statistics. In many cases, fires are never reported as arsons due to the non-training or overwork of the fire departments. And, as you know, most small cities do not have what Hope City has… an Arson Detective Division.”

  She took another sip of coffee, then leaned back in her seat. “I’ve looked at your reports on what you’re dealing with, and I would say that you’re definitely dealing with a motivated arsonist, not simply motiveless fire setting. That would possibly mean that you’re looking at someone that is older… well, older than their twenties. Now, the question could also be looked at whether it is the pathological or the nonpathological motivation.”

  Sean grabbed his notebook from his pocket. “I’m sorry, but I want to make sure I’m getting this. Give me just a minute.” Looking up, he nodded for her to continue.

  “Nonpathological motivation would be for someone who is looking to defraud an insurance company, for example. They do not have a pathological need to set fire, they simply want money. A pathological firesetter is doing so as an act of aggression, hostility, attention, to embellish a deflated sense of self-worth. Those are the simplest motivations. But they could also gain sexual satisfaction from the fire or have delusions and hallucinations.”

  Before he had a chance to ask, she quickly added, “At this point, I can’t give you an opinion on which you’re dealing with. I am fascinated with the rocks that are left at each site. Tell me more about those.”

  “It’s nothing more than ordinary garden rocks that you find in any garden center. Our labs can’t give us anything unique about them. No prints. No accelerants on them. He leaves a pile of them somewhere near the origin of the fire.”

  “Are they stacked… like in a pyramid or a circle? Or just randomly placed?”

  “No… more like a… God, this sounds stupid, but like a bowl. Kinda like a nest.”

  Her eyes widened, and as he expected, she simple shook her head.

  “I hate to be pessimistic, detectives, but until he’s caught and evaluated, you probably won’t know his motivation.”

  Jonas shook her hand and moved to the counter, offering to pay for everyone’s coffee. As Valerie stood, Sean re-pocketed his notebook and thanked her for her assistance. As the two of them walked toward the front door, he stepped to the side as several firefighters walked in. He recognized a few, but it was Bill who snagged his attention when the firefighter’s gaze darted between Sean and Valerie before a wide grin crossed his face and his eyebrows wiggled.

  Ignoring Bill, Sean escorted Valerie to her car before meeting Jonas. Looking at his partner, he said, “I’ve got someone I want to interview. Let’s go.”

  Thirty minutes later, Sean weaved through the lab tables, Jonas right behind him. John was in the back working at the same station he had been when Harper introduced them. Keeping his eye on his prey, he noticed when John looked up, first surp
rise and then curiosity on his face.

  “Detective McBride. Detective Miller.”

  John’s gaze looked around and Sean said, “Harper’s not with us. We had some questions for you.”

  John pulled off his goggles, nodding emphatically. “Sure. Sure. Anything I can do to help.”

  “Do you have a more private place where we can talk?”

  John’s brow lowered, but he continued to nod. “Sure. Just follow me.”

  John led them back through the lab and across the hall to a small conference room. He appeared ill at ease as his gaze darted around and he muttered. “Uh… do you want to sit?”

  With a nod, Sean and Jonas sat on one side of the table, leaving John to fill the seat on the other side. “As part of fire investigation, we have to look at all types of people who fit arsonist profiles. It’s come to our attention that you recently protested when YouTube threatened to shut down your channel. What can you tell us about that?”

  John ran his fingers through his hair, the ends now comically standing straight up. He leaned back in a huff. “Yeah, can you believe it? I’d been working on that YouTube channel for several years and had almost eight thousand subscribers and close to a million views! And they wanted to shut me down citing inappropriate content? I couldn’t believe it! It’s bad enough the government’s always looking over our shoulder, but now hobbyists can’t even have a platform for sharing what they love doing.”

  “I’ve looked at a few of your videos, and it appears that in most of them you are giving instructions on how to set things on fire.” He carefully observed John, noting the spark of excitement moving through his eyes, just as it did when he gave his demonstration the prior week.

  “My videos are good, aren’t they? I mean, everybody thinks that chemists are just nerds who sit around and talk about the periodic table. That might’ve been me if I hadn’t had such a good high school chemistry teacher. He made things come alive by showing us what we could do with mixing compounds. These are all the elements of life. All around us.” John’s arms flung out to his sides as he became more excited. “But I always emphasize safety in my videos. That’s the most important thing, is to make sure people know how to safely handle the chemicals.”