Fire Setters: A Shane Investigations: A gripping crime thriller filled with heart-melting romance and mystery

by Debra Erfert

  “How about the green ones? The trash bins are a dark green, almost black,” he said.

  “Okay. We need to find El Camino Del Sol and push this pin into that street.”

  “Do you know where that is?” Joshua asked.

  “Not yet.” Candice grinned. “But we can do a computer search.” She brought her laptop over to the table and inputted the address into the search window. A second later, the address had a faux red pin sticking out of it, pinpointing the house. Candice panned out to find the nearest cross streets then turned the screen around for Joshua to see.

  “Cool.” Joshua found the area on the paper map without any trouble, and he pushed the green pin in through the map and into the drywall behind it.

  “Okay, that’s our first case. Now on to the second report.”

  “Did it say who set the fire?” Joshua asked quietly.

  Candice set the report down and studied the boy for a moment. “Does it matter?”

  “It might.”

  “How?”

  Joshua frowned. “You’re trying to find something with the way you’re putting the pins into the locations of the fires, so why aren’t you keeping a list of names who might’ve lit the fires, too?”

  “You’re right,” Candice whispered. “You’re a smart kid.” She took a notebook from her backpack and tore out a sheet, and then she tore that sheet into smaller pieces. She briefly looked at Joshua and said, “Remember your promise,” she said as she wrote the names of the two boys questioned. “These boys are not necessarily suspects, but they were seen before the fire started, and the arson investigator questioned them about what they might have done or seen.”

  “Yeah, that’s the way it works,” he told her as she taped the small note around the trash bin fire pin.

  “Okay, three weeks later on Glendale Avenue there was a fire in an empty house, the twelve hundred block.”

  “Can I use your computer to find it?” Joshua asked

  Candice sat in a chair where she had a good view of both the paper map and her laptop. “Go for it.”

  Within a few seconds, Joshua found the address, panned out to see the general area before putting a blue pin on the map. “Was there anybody questioned?” he asked.

  “No, not this time,” Candice said, scanning the report. While she read the next address, she let Joshua take care of the legwork. For the addresses that weren’t on Grandfather’s out of date map, he put the pin in the approximate areas. There was no way to deny the outcome.

  “Look at that,” Joshua said with wonder in his voice.

  “Uh-huh,” Candice agreed. “There are definite groupings of trash bins, abandoned houses or out-buildings, and the new constructions fire, all within confined areas.”

  “But there are areas like that all over the city,” Joshua said, pointing out something he really didn’t need to.

  “Joshua, did you know Zane before he approached you at the skate park?” Candice carefully asked, watching his face for any signs of returning to his previous silence.

  “No, I didn’t,” he answered.

  “How did he know you liked to start fires, I wonder?”

  Joshua looked thoughtful for several moments. “I don’t know.”

  “Did he ever see you set any?”

  “I . . . don’t think so.”

  “Have you ever bragged that you set any to your friends at school or in your neighborhood, and he could’ve overheard about it?”

  “I never told anybody,” Joshua whispered.

  “Were you ever questioned by anybody from the fire department in connection to starting a fire?” Candice asked.

  He slowly replied, “Yeah, once.”

  “Do you remember what his name was?”

  He shook his head.

  Candice pointed to the names on the map and asked, “Do you recognize any of those names?” She could tell he did when she first put them up there.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I know of couple of those guys.”

  “Who?”

  Joshua took a deep breath and said, “Terrie. He’s in my grade. I see him at recess.”

  “How about Bobby?” Candice asked.

  “His sister, Rose, is in my class. She’s spoiled.”

  “Do you ever hang out with him?”

  “No, he’s too young.”

  “Are you surprised that he likes to start fires?” Candice watched his face as he thought about her question.

  He shook his head. “Not really. I think he just likes to cause trouble,” he said with a shrug.

  “So,” she said, pointing at the map, “they live within this area, where the fires were started, and they were all started after school or on the weekend. They could have easily reached the fires on their bikes and then disappeared before the police got there.”

  “But they wouldn’t have,” Joshua told her.

  “What?”

  “They would’ve stayed and watched the fires,” Joshua said, still looking at the map.

  “When your house was on fire, Joshua, I didn’t see anybody before I went inside.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have. Whoever started it was hiding, but he was watching. He had to know what the fire looked like.” Joshua stared at her. “Why don’t you have that report?”

  Candice took a deep breath and stretched her achy back. “I didn’t have the chance to get the last six months before I had to get off the detective’s computer. I didn’t want him to catch me.”

  A mischievous smile slowly came over his face. “Do you mean you stole these reports?”

  “Well,” Candice said with a smile that matched his, “not exactly.”

  “But did you have permission to take them?” he asked, a little more to the point.

  Candice looked around conspiratorially before she said, “No.” Then she added, “Remember your promise. I’m going to the library to look up the last six-month’s worth of fire reports from the newspapers on the microfilm. When I get back, we’ll continue mapping.”

  “How are you going to get there? Your cop boyfriend isn’t here to give you a ride.”

  “It’s okay. I have four more cars in the garage,” Candice told him with a wink.

  Chapter 19

  CANDICE CHOSE HER favorite car, next to her burned out V-dub. It was the newest car she owned—only bought it last year. The red BMW 2 convertible originally came with white paint, but she’d had her heart set on fire engine red. Two weeks at the body shop and she had the car of her dreams. It had two doors but held five people, if they were friendly, and had a black rag top with tan leather seats. She loved this car, but she rarely drove it. It caught too much attention. She drove up to the barricade.

  “Ms. Shane,” Greenwood said with a friendly smile. “Good morning, ma’am. Are you leaving by yourself?” He looked worried about her. She wondered what Alex said to him when he left last night.

  “Yes, I am. I have a couple of errands to do this morning, hopefully before Officer Delaney gets here. I have my phone, so if he needs to get in touch with me, he can call. If you have any questions, you can call me, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We already have your number,” Greenwood said with a nod.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Officer Delaney made sure we had it.”

  “I suppose you have his, too?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

  “Uh-huh,” Candice whispered. “I’ll be back soon,” she said louder. After he moved the barricade, she drove off down the street. She watched the young man in her rearview mirror as he lifted his cell phone to his ear. She was positive he was calling Alex. She wasn’t sure if she was flattered, or if she felt smothered and a little ticked off over his over-protectiveness. How did he know she’d leave, anyway? Could he know her better than she knew herself? That was kind of unsettling. She glanced at the GPS console and read out loud, “4502 North Central Avenue.” It was the address to the Phoenix Union High School district offices.

  Joshua sai
d Zane was too old to go to his school, so there was a good chance he was in high school. If they kept their records on computers, and who doesn’t these days, then as long as they’d cooperate with her, she’d have his name and a home address within a few minutes after they started. That was if they cooperated. They were still talking about minors having their right to privacy, and she was an adult not related to him, so she didn’t think they’d stretch the rules, especially if she couldn’t come up with his last name.

  Candice drove while she thought of an angle she could use. Thirty minutes later, she pulled into the parking garage down the street from the school district office, and after she put up the roof, she locked the doors and engaged the alarm before taking off at a brisk pace. She shrugged her backpack onto her shoulder. The fabric freshener she’d sprayed on it last night diffused the majority of smoke stench, but not all of it. Either she’d need to reapply it or buy a new pack.

  Candice found herself enjoying her stroll in the busy city. The other pedestrians had their own destinations in mind, and no one noticed her wrapped fingers—which, at the moment, hurt like crazy—or her ugly bruised forehead. The air was brisk and clean-smelling, even for a big city, and her spirits were high when she pushed in the office door.

  The woman behind the desk looked up and briefly studied her hand before she smiled and stood up. Candice guessed her injuries were once again noticed, so she might as well use them for her benefit and blur the lines of truth slightly.

  “Good morning,” the woman said. “May I help you?”

  “Yes, I certainly hope you can,” Candice replied, leaning against the wooden counter and cradling her bandaged fingers to her chest. She might’ve been playing the pain up a bit. “I’m looking for a young man. He’s about seventeen, I think, so he’s in high school, and the only name I have is Zane, which is a very unusual name. Do you think you can help me find him?”

  “Um, why do you want to find him, Miss . . . ?”

  “My name is Candice Shane, and last night my apartment building caught fire and—” she held down the unpleasant taste that rose in her throat—“this young man saved me and the woman in the apartment below me before the fire could reach us.” When the woman’s eyes diverted to her hand, they widened significantly.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she whispered. Louder, she said, “I saw Channel Three news this morning. Was that your apartment?”

  “Yes, it was. And I’d really like to find this young man and thank him.” She’d like to thank him, all right. “I was unable to last night. I was taken to the hospital and he left before anybody was able to get his last name.” Candice held her breath and waited for lightning to strike her down. She was sure the woman thought her bandaged fingers were just giving her pain. She’d be partially right.

  “Well, let’s see what we can find out, shall we?” The woman sat down at her desk and pulled up a screen on her computer, and she began to type. “What was that name again?”

  “Zane something,” Candice said, feigning eagerness and leaning farther over the counter, but she couldn’t make out what the screen had on it.

  “Fine,” she murmured. After a few minutes of her going from one electronic page to another, she finally shook her head. “I’m sorry, Miss Shane, but there wasn’t a Zane anybody in our system this past year. We wouldn’t have the names of the graduates on our computer any longer. You could try the charter schools,” she suggested. “Or even the colleges.”

  “I guess you’re right. I’ll keep looking. If nothing else, I can go to Channel 3 and get them to help me look for him,” Candice said in disappointment, and this time she didn’t need to fake the emotion.

  “I hope you’re doing all right, Miss Shane,” the woman said with her hand on Candice’s arm.

  Now she felt guilty about lying to her. “Thank you. I’m doing just fine.” Candice walked outside the door and gazed up into the clear sky, waiting for that lightning bolt to strike her dead. She kind of deserved it. That woman was a nice lady, but Zane was a rotten kid who needed to be brought to justice.

  Since she struck out with the school thing, Candice thought she’d pop into the library to look up those reports. The closest one was in Scottsdale. It wasn’t very far by freeway, and as long as she kept it under seventy-five, she wouldn’t get a ticket. Even then, it might be worth the cost of a ticket if she got the information she needed to catch Zane. The morning rush hour had passed, and it was actually a pleasant drive to Scottsdale Civic Center Library.

  Candice figured Alex would’ve called before she’d reached the library, but it never vibrated in her pocket. She wondered if the guard was able to reach him. She didn’t push her luck. Having him worry about her being out was bad for his health.

  When Candice walked inside, she was immediately hit with the welcoming, musty scent of old books. She knew the odor very well from her university years, and she loved it. She made her way into the media center and found the microfiche for the Arizona Republic for the past six months then sat down at a machine. She pulled out several dollar bills to feed the copier and prepared for business.

  Candice went back as far as the car fire she knew Bobby started and found a brief description and basic information, but no name of the kid questioned. She knew that would be absent. Unless the reporter got that on his own, the police department couldn’t give it out. But she noticed Antonio Barbarize gave a quote about abandoned cars being targets. She slid a dollar into the slot and pushed the button to copy the article.

  She made a conscious decision not to speak out loud. She was sure the two other people in the room wouldn’t understand about her talking to herself. The next report that came up was one about an unoccupied rental house that went up in flames about midnight two weeks later. It was only about a mile away from where Bobby torched the car—and she was sure he’d set the fire. She was curious about whether the police had any fingerprints or not. She guessed there was really no way for her to find out, unless Alex could sneak her to a department computer. She copied that report, too.

  Candice wondered if any fingerprints were found at her apartment. Going by there to take a look around might be a good idea. Or maybe she could talk Alex into going there for her instead. The pictures on the TV were devastating. Besides, she needed her fire safe that had been left in the rubble.

  Thirty minutes and sixteen arson articles later, her heart stopped when she read a report about a fire with a death involved. “Oh, my,” she whispered. A man’s body was found inside an abandoned house on El Prado Avendida. While the fire was believed to have been started by children playing in the area, the firefighters discovered the body of a transient inside. The victim hadn’t yet been identified. She made a copy of that article, and made a mental note to ask Patrick about the investigation.

  She glanced at her watch. It was past ten, and Alex hadn’t tried to call her once. She pulled out her phone and looked at it. “Oops,” Candice whispered. She had it on silent. She didn’t remember doing it. Alex had called three times. She shot him a quick text explaining where she was and what she was doing. She had a few more weeks of papers to go through before she was done, and she didn’t want to stop now. Her phone lit up.

  Are you okay? You didn’t answer your phone

  Candice expected that question. She texted back. I’m fine. My phone was on silent. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be done soon. She didn’t bother putting her phone down. She figured they were going to have a short conversation.

  How long will it take?

  Thirty minutes at most.

  And then you’ll come home?

  Yes. I’ll come home. Promise.

  Okay. I’m here waiting for you.

  Could you do something for me?

  Sure. What?

  Go to the station and check up on the bullets and the gun that shot me?

  I can do that.

  Thanks. Maybe I’ll be home before you get back.

  Love you.

  C U soon.


  Candice pushed her phone back in her pocket, turned to the microfiche machine, and scrolled to the next article. It was a rental house fire that was in between occupants, what the arson investigator called a classic example of “broken window.” The run-down piece of property sat in a nice neighborhood. Evidently, the owners weren’t interested in keeping it up. She was very interested in seeing the arson investigator was Barbarize again, and he interviewed a couple of “neighborhood children” that he couldn’t name. Of course, he couldn’t, but he knew who they were.

  The last article she looked over was very interesting. It was the Leavitts’ fire from this past Monday. As she read the short story, she remembered every detail of that night, from the first scent of smoke to the crash out of the garage. The reporter discovered Candice’s name and credited her with saving the whole family, and even plugged her business in the article, which could be the reason the arsonist knew where to find her. He interviewed, first, Barbarize on the origin and cause of the fire, and second, Patrick on any suspects. Neither could comment further other than to say it was “suspicious” and “still under investigation.”

  Candice gathered up her pile of copies and stuffed them into her backpack. She felt like she was leaving with a gold mine in her possession. The answers she needed were somewhere within her reach; she just had to figure it out, like a jigsaw puzzle. If her brain didn’t have a lingering headache, she might’ve already solved it.

  “A map,” she said out loud as she passed a convenience store. She slowed and turned around at the next corner, and drove back to the Circle K. They had just the map she wanted. And it was brand new with the latest subdivisions. As she reached her car, a big red fire truck rolled by with its lights and sirens screaming. By the time she jumped into her car, the last of the engines rolled past. She planned on bringing up the rear.