by Burton, Mary
Gideon lifted his gaze quickly to Joan, as if searching for a sign that she might harbor any resentment toward the boy in any way. Whatever he saw must have calmed him, because he shifted back to Kyle. “Ready to go to the doctor?”
“Yeah. But for the record, I don’t need a doctor,” Kyle said.
“Once you get your medical degree, I’ll stop bugging you about it,” Gideon said.
Kyle gathered up his backpack. “Good to see you, Joan. You going to be at Ann’s tonight?”
“I’ll be there.” She pointed her index finger at him. “Show your dad how flexible your arm is.”
Kyle rolled his shoulder and then his arm as if he were a major league ballplayer warming up.
“Looks good,” Gideon said. “Should be a quick visit, which will give you time to do your math homework.”
“I hate math,” Kyle said.
“Fractions are his nemesis,” Gideon said as he laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He’s not a fan.”
Kyle shrugged. “What’s the point? Isn’t that what a phone calculator is for?”
“Just between you and me, Kyle,” Joan said, “I’m a calculator kind of girl.”
“Don’t be fooled, Kyle. Joan had a straight-A average in college.”
“Is she like Nate?” he asked.
“No. Not quite like Nate, but she’s got game.”
The offhanded compliment felt surprisingly nice. “Don’t make me blush.”
Kyle laughed. “See you around, Joan.”
“You too, Kyle.”
Gideon’s expression teetered somewhere between confusion and relief when he and his son left. The room grew heavy with a silence broken only by the gurgle of the coffee maker. She looked at the closed file, her interest in the past waning. Still, she opened the next folder. She found the images that the investigating officer had discovered in Elijah’s dorm room. Judging by the location and her outfit, they’d been taken in the late fall of her senior year. She had been at a local bar watching the rodeo on television. She remembered the night and knew Gideon and Ann had been present. Funny, she had no memory of Elijah at the bar. She snapped photos of each with her phone.
She continued to sift through the pictures. Her interest was piqued when the shots shifted from the house to the crowds.
She knew arsonists liked to see their work. It was common to find them lurking among the crowds, watching the flames devour their target. She studied the faces, recognizing a couple of old neighbors and former classmates. Then she spotted Elijah standing behind Clarke and Gideon. Gideon’s expression was pained, and his clothes and hands, like Clarke’s, were covered in dark soot. She had no memory from the moment she passed out to the instant she woke up coughing in the ambulance. Her memories rested on vague impressions and some sounds.
Joan sank deep into herself and floated in a pool of cool water. She was at peace. Not afraid. Not worried. This sense of well-being suited her, and she wanted to remain exactly wherever this was.
Hot, grimy hands cupped her face and forced her head and neck back. Lips touched hers, and hot air blew into her lungs several times. The air, like a lifeline, dipped below the water’s edge and snared her. Before she could resist, the rope was yanking her toward the surface. Her head popped up above the water. She sucked in a deep breath. Her chest hurt, and her throat felt raw.
“Joan!”
Hearing her name shouted out from the past prompted her to open her eyes. She blinked, clearing her vision.
In her mind’s eye, a familiar face came into view, but it was not the one she had expected. “It was Clarke,” she said to herself. “Why wasn’t it you, Gideon?”
Ann did not have classes today, but after she’d dropped Kyle off at the police station, she took the opportunity to take Nate by the university campus. The college-level coursework would likely not be a problem for her son, but finding his way to his classes might be. They had made it a habit since kindergarten to visit the school the day before it opened and walk the hallways, and now, in this case, the campus.
Nate stared out the window, his lips pursed.
“You’ve been here a hundred times before. There’s nothing to be worried about.”
“I’ve never been in the math building,” he said anxiously.
Last week, Nate was supposed to have visited the building with Clarke, but the boy’s father had texted at the last minute and canceled. Sorry, babe, work. “You were there last year for the science fair.”
“That was different,” Nate said. “I was with a group. Now I’ll be alone.”
His expression resembled that of a much older man, a far cry from the laughing boy at breakfast yesterday. “Let’s have a look at the classroom. By the time we leave, you’ll have it committed to memory.”
“That’s a solid plan.”
She smiled, resisting the urge to push the hair from his eyes as she had when he was a toddler. “Let’s do this.”
Out of the car, the two crossed the nearly empty lot to the four-story brick building. Automatically, she looked to the metal fire escape on the north side. Unbeknownst to Nate, she had walked the building’s escape routes last week, double-checking that the exit doors were functioning.
At the front door, she swiped her faculty identification card, and the lock opened. They crossed the tiled hallway to the door marked STAIRS and climbed to the second floor.
“You know the room number. You find it,” she said.
Nate’s brow furrowed as he nodded and began checking each number over the doors until they reached room 208. “This is it.”
She tried the room’s closed door and, to her relief, found it open. They stepped inside, and she flipped on the lights, which flickered on over rows of long tables and chairs. There was a lectern at the front of the room, a blackboard, and a screen that could be lowered if the professor needed it.
Nate folded his arms over his chest, walking up and down the aisles. “Where should I sit?”
“Where would you like to sit?”
He drew in a breath and then nodded as he moved to the front. “Here. I don’t want to be distracted.”
She could count on one hand the number of students she’d had last year who’d willingly chosen the front row. Everyone wanted the back so they could respond to the random text message or avoid her gaze when she was seeking an answer.
“I am satisfied,” he said.
“Good. What do you say we get an ice cream?”
Nate regarded her with such soulful eyes that it nearly took her breath away. God, she loved her kid. “Can I get two scoops?”
She grinned. “Yes, you may.”
As they walked out of the building and passed a display cabinet filled with school memorabilia, the boy said, “Joan should have a Griz hat so when she goes home, she won’t forget us.”
“That’s a great idea.”
They closed the building’s front door behind them and returned to her car. Nate settled into the back seat. She slid behind the wheel, turned the ignition, and looked in her rearview mirror. As she pushed in the clutch and shifted into reverse, she spotted a man strolling past the math building. She almost dismissed him, but something about his erect posture made her look twice.
Tall and lean, he had a muscled frame. His jeans, jacket, and dark-blue sweater all appeared new, as did his shoes. He was walking with purpose, as if he had been here before.
She stopped as a nervous chill burned down her spine. Her heart beat faster in her chest. She waited for him to turn so she could see his face.
As if he sensed her gaze, he turned toward her direction, searching. When he spotted her car, she recognized him. It was Elijah Weston.
Heat rose in her cheeks, and her breathing shallowed. She gripped the wheel tighter as she moved quickly into first gear and then pressed the accelerator too hard. The car lurched forward and stalled.
“Shit. Sorry, kiddo. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Language, Mom.”
“You’re
right.” She swiped a strand of hair from her eyes and swallowed another curse.
“Can we see where that building burned?”
“Why?” Ann challenged quickly.
“I don’t know. Might be cool.”
“We’ll see.”
Elijah walked toward them, his gait unhurried but steady. The side mirror caught Elijah’s stoic expression. He moved closer, as if he had all the time in the world. Her heart continued to beat faster as she tightened her hands on the steering wheel, doing her best to look calm for Nate’s sake.
She was not anything close to calm. She was scared and angry. Not only was Elijah out of prison now, but he had registered for her class. When Gideon had called her and told her about Elijah enrolling in her class, she had called her department chair, reminding him of her history with Elijah. The department chair had informed her that Elijah had already threatened a lawsuit if he was denied entry. Faced with Elijah having served his time and receiving a glowing recommendation from the prison warden, the university would have to accept him. If and when he became a threat, they would act.
The financial needs of her separation had made it so she’d had no choice but to accept. Like it or not, she would be facing him in two more days and then every week for the rest of the semester.
But that was another day. And she had learned a long time ago not to steal problems from another day, because today had plenty to go around. Gathering her composure, she pressed the accelerator, leaving him watching her as she drove off.
Confessions of an Arsonist
I am going to plan the mother of all fires. I’m not wasting my time with the small stuff anymore. This one will free me of all my troubles and set me on the righteous course I deserve.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Missoula, Montana
Monday, September 7, 2020
3:30 p.m.
Gideon was relieved when the doctor pronounced Kyle fit for duty. His X-ray looked great, the bones in his right arm completely healed and growing as they should. He was a lucky kid, as far as hit-and-run accidents went.
“Ann said you’re welcome to have dinner at her place,” Gideon said. “Does that work for you?”
“Yeah, sure. Can I spend the night?”
“The plan is for me to pick you up, but this case might keep me late.”
Kyle shrugged, already adapting to his dad’s busy schedule. “I’m hungry now.”
“What do you want?”
“Take-out pizza.”
“Done.”
“And can we eat it at the station with Joan?”
“What makes you ask that?” Gideon asked.
Kyle shrugged. “Just did.”
“I don’t know, pal.” Gideon did not want his kid falling for Joan Mason. Once her demons were exorcised, she would be on her way.
“Why not? She seems lonely.”
Sharing a pizza with Joan would not kill him. Besides, Kyle was asking, and he rarely asked for much. “Sure, why not.”
When they pulled up to the Pizza Shack, he ordered two large pizzas. One cheese and pepperoni for Kyle and the other with mushrooms and onions for Joan. Jesus, ten years and he still remembered how she liked her pizza.
When they pushed through the back door of the police station, he was not surprised to find her still hunched over an open file with a picture of her freshly burned hands. He remembered the cop at the hospital taking the picture as she’d sat on the gurney in the emergency room.
When she looked up, her hair looked as if she had been running her fingers through it. She quickly closed the file and carefully tucked it back in the box. “Do I need to clear out? Do you guys need the room?”
“We brought you pizza,” Kyle said.
“Pizza?”
“Mine is cheese and yours has mushrooms and onions.” Kyle made a face. “I hate onions.”
Joan’s gaze shifted to Gideon. “You remembered. Thank you.”
Gideon set the pizzas on the conference table while Joan removed the file boxes to a corner on the floor. She grabbed a handful of napkins from the credenza. He and Kyle took their seats while Joan passed out napkins. He flipped open both boxes, and the aroma of pizza filled the room.
Joan reached for a large slice, folded the piece in on itself, and took a big bite. “Delicious, guys. Thanks.”
“You can thank Kyle,” Gideon said. “It was his idea.”
“Well, thank you, sir.”
Kyle shrugged but pursed his lips, as he did when he was trying not to smile. “Sure.”
The three ate in silence for several minutes, until Gideon headed off the coming lull. “Find anything in the files?” he asked.
She finished chewing and swallowed. She looked at Kyle before she nodded. “A very similar device was used to set both the College and salon incidents.”
“You can say fire,” Kyle said.
Joan raised a brow. “I’m going to have to work harder to talk over your head.”
Gideon grinned. “A PG-13 explanation is okay.”
“Somewhere between X-Men and Harry Potter?” Joan asked.
“Or Last Jedi and Black Panther,” Gideon said.
“Haven’t seen either of those,” she said with mock exasperation.
“But you know Harry Potter?” Gideon asked.
“Stupid movie,” Kyle grumbled as he shook his head. “Magic is not real.”
“My partner has an eight-year-old granddaughter,” Joan said. “She just had a birthday, and Hermione appears to be her idol.”
“Silly,” Kyle said.
Gideon could not picture Joan being attached to anything as fanciful as a fantasy character. But he also had never guessed she would return to Montana. “Tell me what you’ve learned, and I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”
“Understood. The investigating officer at the time, Henry Jefferson, initially theorized that the fire was random. He found no connection between Ann or me to Elijah Weston, other than I had been a teaching assistant for one of his professors. Elijah never made any threats either in person or in writing to Ann, me, or anyone else. And then the DNA test came back linking Elijah to the device.”
“Jefferson later hypothesized that Elijah was targeting the trash can near your window,” Gideon said. “We had Elijah’s DNA on file as a result of earlier arson episodes targeting rubbish piles.”
“He was fixated on overflowing, rat-infested trash cans. Ours was neat and had been dumped the day before.”
“One of those early trash fires nearly burned down a trailer.”
“The photos of me they found in his house were taken the night we were watching the rodeo finals at the campus bar.”
“I remember the night.” He and Joan had made love twice that night.
“Do you remember seeing Elijah at the bar?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “No.”
Her lips flattened as she shook her head. If they had been alone, she would have fired back a salty rebuttal. “The College Fire devices were placed in the crawl space, an odd place if trash was the target.”
“You said the College and beauty shop devices were similar.”
“Very similar,” she said. “The 2010 versions were a bit cruder, a first generation. Only one of the three survived for testing, which was where Elijah’s DNA was found.”
“We’ve had no other fires with similar delivery mechanisms. And Elijah has been in prison.”
She wiped the pizza crumbs from her hands and leaned forward. Kyle paid close attention as he chewed his pizza. “Assume, for a moment, Elijah did not set the College Fire.”
“What?” Gideon froze, the next bite inches from his mouth.
“I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out.”
“Okay.”
“He filed a police report the week prior and claimed his backpack had been stolen. His sweatshirt could have been taken from that pack.”
“Or he was building an alibi.” He set his pizza down and carefully wiped off his finger
s as he struggled to check a surge of jealousy.
“Say the arsonist used Elijah’s sweatshirt to throw off the police. Say he has been practicing for the last decade. And has improved. There have been a half dozen brush fires near town in the last few months while Elijah was incarcerated.”
Gideon quickly rebutted. “What if Elijah recruited an accomplice to set the brush fires and to help him gather supplies for the salon fire? You weren’t his only pen pal while he was in prison. He had a group of women called the Fireflies who followed his case closely.” He leaned toward her. “What if he grooms people to help him set fires?”
“What if we’re dealing with someone we’ve never considered? Someone who’s been lurking around on the periphery and setting fires in other jurisdictions for years.”
Marcie Cash had theorized that Lana was seeing either a married or incarcerated man. If Lana had been seeing Elijah, then that would fit Marcie’s theory. He knew that prisons kept records of correspondence and visits. But if Lana had been seeing Joan’s mystery arsonist, then that would explain why he did not want to be seen with her publicly. Tracking him would be more difficult.
An unsettled feeling burrowed into the pit of his belly. He sat back, regarding her and then Kyle, who was still riveted.
“We’re batting around a lot of what-ifs, Joan.”
“Make some calls, Dad,” Kyle said. “That’s what you do when you’re on a case.”
“I could reach out to Clarke,” Gideon said. “He’s tapped into the firefighting community.”
“I would keep the circle small, Gideon,” she suggested. “No one should get wind that you’re looking into the College Fire case.”
“I’ll make a few calls. And I’ll keep everyone out of the loop for now. Kyle, can you keep a secret?”
The boy grinned, clearly pleased to be included in his dad’s new circle. “I sure can! I won’t even tell Nate!”
Joan left the police station feeling as if the answer were only inches out of reach. She parked in front of Elijah’s home. She had been speaking off the top of her head to Gideon, but maybe, and that was a big maybe, he really had not set the College Fire.
