Burn You Twice

by Burton, Mary

  He ran off, his feet thudding against the wood floors as he made his way upstairs.

  “That’s the second time you have spoken to him without me,” Ann said. “Don’t do it again.”

  “Your presence would have prejudiced his comments. He knows you dislike fire.”

  Color rose in Ann’s face. “And you don’t? You could barely stand by the firepit the other night. The College Fire sent you running back east!”

  Joan set her cup down. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he set the fire. He said he saw someone or something running away from the house.”

  Frustration turned to relief and then curiosity. “Did he say anything else?”

  “No.”

  “So why don’t you think he did it?”

  “He doesn’t want to disappoint you.” She thought about the crime scene pictures taken at the College Fire and Elijah staring at the flames from the crowd. Nate was still a young boy, despite all his intelligence, but one day he would grow up and, as all boys do, grow independent of his mother.

  “Whereas Elijah never had such limitations,” she said.

  “You’ve met Miss Weston?”

  “A couple of times in town. I’m not fond of her, and a part of me always felt sorry for Elijah, knowing he grew up with her as a mother. He didn’t have a chance.”

  “Do you believe you’re all that stands between Nate becoming . . .” Joan hesitated and dropped her voice. “Elijah?”

  Her shoulders stooped, as if for the first time she had released a heavy weight. “Yes.”

  “You don’t have to do this alone, Ann.”

  “I can’t tell Clarke. Jesus, he would be devastated.”

  “Clarke is returning today to work the fire scene, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s good at his job. He’ll figure out how the fire started. And he’ll look out for Nate, if he should find anything that contradicts the boy’s story.”

  “You don’t have to go into town,” Ann said. “Whatever happened here was not your fault.”

  “The College Fire began outside my bedroom window, and the third incendiary device was under my room. Elijah had pictures of me in his dorm room. And this fire could only be viewed from my window. Like it or not, I am a possible target.”

  “I was on both properties with you each time. And Lana had a picture of both of us. Besides, Elijah never disliked you,” Ann said. “He might have had a twisted idea of him and me, but you were his friend. He wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Regardless of who’s unhappy with me, it’s best I still leave. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you or Nate.”

  “Do you really think someone wants to kill you?”

  “I didn’t used to think so. But now, hell yes.”

  Confessions of an Arsonist

  I’ve seen how the boy looks at fire.

  And I see in him the blaze that burns in me. Pride.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Missoula, Montana

  Wednesday, September 9, 2020

  9:15 a.m.

  Tension rippled up Ann’s back as she stood behind the lectern at the head of the class. She glanced up toward the clock; her nine-thirty class would not arrive for another fifteen minutes, but she was already wishing away the next hour. Normally, she did not arrive to her classroom so early, like she had when she was a new teacher. But today, sitting in her office was nearly unbearable.

  The secrets of the past were clawing their way to the surface, and she was terrified what it would mean for Nate.

  She glanced at her notes, tried to focus on the day’s lecture. She had given this class and its lectures twice during the last academic year and was so well versed in the subject that she did not really need notes. But as she stared at the neatly typed words, her thoughts jumped back in time to the night she had been alone with Elijah at the student center.

  He had been a gentle lover, handling her as if she were made of a fine china. That had bothered her, because she had craved something rougher, more primal, the kind of joining an anonymous couple might share.

  When it was over, she had not found the release she had been seeking. And Elijah had stared at her with eyes that reflected a kind of puppy love that only made her feel worse. She had been his first, he whispered, and he wanted to see her again.

  Ann had dressed quickly, gathered her books, and told him it would not be possible. She was already practicing her denials, but he insisted on walking her home, which she allowed in order to avoid a scene.

  Ann had not been totally honest with Joan. She had seen Elijah again a few days later . . .

  “I did it wrong the last time,” he said, closing the door behind him.

  All traces of the sensitive young man were gone, and in his place was a darker, edgier persona. “What?”

  Nerves in her belly tightened, even as a thrill of excitement shot through her. Last night, Clarke had come by. They had had sex, but she had gone through the motions.

  “You want it different.” There was emotion. “I saw.”

  “What?” She moistened her lips.

  “Take your shirt off.”

  “What?”

  “Do it.”

  Intrigued, she reached for the hem of her blouse and pulled it over her head. Her nipples hardened under the thin fabric of her bra.

  “Take all of it off,” he said.

  “What about you?”

  “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

  She hesitated before whispering, “Yes.”

  “Then get naked.”

  She slid off her bra and then her jeans and panties. When she stood bare before him, he smoothed his hands over her shoulders and then turned her toward the wall. He did not hurt her but held her firmly in place as he leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck. His pants zipper opened, and then he pushed into her hard. She gasped, curling her fingers into fists, and arched toward him.

  When she came, she went limp against the wall, her heart pounding fast.

  “You won’t forget this fuck. Ever,” he said.

  And then her house had burned to the ground. And then the doctor told her she was pregnant. And then Clarke and she were married. And then . . .

  Steady footsteps sounded in the hallway outside her room, and she knew it was Clarke. His heels always struck the ground as if he were rushing to the next fire.

  Color rose in Ann’s cheeks, as if she had been caught recalling the forbidden. She closed her notebook and braced for another sales pitch involving her moving back into town. His wide shoulders filled the doorway, and he was dressed in his uniform.

  He strode down the aisle between the long tables set up classroom-style. His aftershave curled around a lingering scent of smoke and reached out for her. Ann had always loved his scent. For a second, he was the old Clarke, and she was the old Ann. Surprised and troubled, she cleared her throat.

  “Your office said you came to the classroom early,” he said. “You didn’t answer your cell.”

  “It’s on silent.”

  “What if Nate needs you?”

  “I can see his texts.”

  “Is he all right?” Clarke asked.

  “He’s fine.” Nate had been curious about the damage and insisted on inspecting it before school. Boys his age were naturally inquisitive, so she’d chalked up his curiosity to his gender. “I dropped him off at school and will pick him up by one thirty so he can audit his university math class.”

  “He wasn’t traumatized?”

  “Not at all.”

  That seemed to please him. “A chip off the old block.”

  “Yes,” she said carefully. “He’s not afraid.”

  Dark eyes glistened with pride. “You’re sure he’s fine?”

  “Positive.”

  “He’s spending next Wednesday night with me, right?”

  “He’s looking forward to it.” Which was true. Nate and Clarke were very different in so many ways, but that did not undercut the
love.

  “Have you thought any more about returning to town permanently? If you come back to town, we’d have a better chance of figuring this all out, whatever it is. I can find an apartment for a few months.”

  “We’re staying put, Clarke.”

  “We have to talk about all this soon.”

  “I know. And we will. I promise.”

  He looked as if he wanted to pull her into an embrace but instead cleared his throat. “What about the damage at the ranch?”

  She was relieved to be off the topic of them. “I’ve already called the ranch manager, and he’s coming out midday with his crew to see what he can do about the cleanup. Have you inspected the damage?”

  “I’m headed out there now.”

  She did not like the idea of him on her property without her there. It was not that she expected him to do anything nefarious, but the ranch was her space, not theirs, and he did not belong there.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll warn you now, Ann, that last night’s fire had all the hallmarks of the College Fire.” As he stepped toward her, she sensed the restrained energy. He was trying to maintain a calm front, like a cowboy wooing a wild mare, but it was a struggle. “Elijah set that fire.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I can’t prove it yet. But I will.”

  “Joan believes he might not have set the College Fire.”

  His gaze darkened. “Then she’s a damn fool. What the hell is it with her?”

  “She’s trying to make sure no one else gets hurt.”

  He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “You know why she’s out here, right?”

  “Because Elijah was released from prison.”

  “That’s a convenient excuse. She’s been put on leave by the Philadelphia police. She’ll likely lose her job soon.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I made some calls. She screwed up an investigation. Miscalculated her interviewing prowess, which led to the release of a crazy woman who’d burned her roommate alive. Joan is fast and loose with the facts now, just as she was in college.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “I know she painted me as some kind of albatross around your neck in college.”

  “Joan had nothing to do with our breakup. You wanted to get married, and I wanted to wait. You pushed, and I felt backed into a corner.” Footsteps sounded outside the classroom. “I don’t want to get into this with you now.”

  “We need to talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “My son was in your home when the shed caught fire.”

  A muscle pulsed in his jaw, as it did when he regrouped. “Come to dinner with Nate and me next Wednesday. It would be nice for the three of us to share a meal as a family.”

  “We’ll have family time at his birthday party. It’ll be fun.” She added the last bit just as much to convince herself as him.

  “That’s not the same. I want the three of us to share at least one meal.”

  She drew in a slow breath. “All right. Next Wednesday. Got it.”

  His frown softened into a grin. “Thank you.”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  The classroom door opened, and two young women walked in. Clarke stepped back. “I’ll pick Nate up after his class and see you later tonight when I drop him off,” he said quietly.

  “Nate finishes with class at three.”

  “Good.” He glanced over his shoulder at another set of students. “See you then.”

  “Terrific.”

  Clarke strode down the center, pausing for several girls to pass, and then went out the door. Ann carefully opened her lecture material and tried to refocus.

  A few whispers rose up among the women and men, and she raised her gaze to see Elijah walking in, his textbook tucked under his arm. If he was aware of the comments, he did not show it. His pace was unhurried and his posture relaxed as he took a seat in the front row. He carefully opened his notebook and clicked the end of his pen before he looked up and smiled at her. “Good morning, Professor Bailey.”

  Gideon returned to the jail as Ryan was being processed out. It had taken the young man a day to recover from his binge and another to find a bondsman before he could post bail with the magistrate.

  Ryan looked up, his still-bloodshot eyes reflecting grief and anger. “Thanks for coming.”

  “You had something important to tell me?” Gideon asked.

  “Yeah.” Ryan threaded his belt into the loops on his pants and fastened the buckle. “I’ve been thinking about Lana.”

  Gideon escorted Ryan out of the holding area and through the security doors to the lobby. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “I know a diner.”

  Ryan nodded, sliding into the front seat of Gideon’s SUV without a word. Gideon drove across town and parked in front of the Buffalo Café. Inside, the sweet scents of cinnamon and maple syrup blended with the crispy tang of bacon. A tall waitress with red hair poured coffee for both and took their orders.

  After she left, Gideon asked, “What did you want to tell me, Ryan?”

  Ryan set his cup down. “Lana always had a thing about texting through encoded apps. She didn’t want her mother snooping, which she did a lot when we were dating. When Lana told me that she wanted to see me again, she sounded off, so I logged into her account.” Ryan fished his cell from his pocket. “I figured she’d changed her password and username and stuff, but she hadn’t. She could be lazy about that kind of thing.”

  The boy had a nervous edge that came with a juicy discovery.

  Ryan turned the phone around, his face hardening as the meaning of his find settled. “It looks like she was pregnant, and her boyfriend didn’t want it. That explains now why she called me. She always came back to me when she was having a hard time.”

  “Did she name the boyfriend?”

  “The name he used was Roger.”

  Gideon took the phone and dropped his gaze to Lana’s exchange.

  Lana: Don’t pull that shit with me. The baby is yours.

  And DNA will prove it. Step up or I’m going public.

  Roger: Don’t do that.

  Lana: Why shouldn’t I? You made it clear you don’t care about me or the baby.

  Roger: I care. I do. Let’s meet. We can talk. I have a ring for you.

  Lana: What?

  Roger: That’s right. I love you.

  Lana must have accepted the ring, because in subsequent texts she said how much she loved it.

  Roger: I have a surprise for you.

  Lana: Really?

  Roger: Meet me at the Beau-T-Shop?

  Lana: Time?

  Roger: Now. I need to see you.

  Lana: Okay.

  The last text was sent at 6:15 p.m. on Saturday. The fire crews estimated that the blaze had started about 6:45 p.m.

  “Do you have any idea who Roger is?” Gideon asked.

  “No. I never heard the name until I read the texts.”

  A DNA test would create a profile for the father of Lana’s unborn child, but whether that individual was in any DNA database was impossible to tell. Still, it was a solid lead in the process of solving who had strangled Lana and then left her to burn alive in the fire.

  “Can you give me Lana’s password and username? I want to read all her messages to Roger.” He removed a pen and pad from his coat pocket and pushed them toward Ryan, who wrote down both. “Thanks, Ryan. This could be a big help.”

  Their food arrived, and they both ate in silence. Ryan all but cleaned his plate in less than five minutes, and Gideon gave him his extra bacon and toast.

  When Ryan seemed to have had his fill, he sat back and said, “Lana and I were once really good together. I would have taken her back even with the baby.” He stared down at the empty plate, trying to hide his tears.

  Gideon wanted to promise that he would solve this case, but he had learned a long time ago that s
weeping promises were a recipe for disappointment. “Are you staying in town?”

  “There’s a bus to Denver in two hours. I’m going to be on it.”

  “I can drive you to the station.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”

  “Sure.”

  “You’ll call me when this is solved, Detective?”

  “As soon as I have an update I can share, you’ll be getting a call from me personally.”

  Confessions of an Arsonist

  Out of all the destruction caused by fire, there is always new growth eventually. New bonds.

  Death before life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Missoula, Montana

  Wednesday, September 9, 2020

  10:30 a.m.

  When Ann and Nate left for school, Joan had every intention of following them into town. But the fire last night and the lack of sleep had left her exhausted.

  She swallowed a couple of aspirin and sat on the couch for a quick break until the throbbing in her head eased. But her eyes quickly drifted closed, and this time she fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened by pounding on the front door.

  She jumped to her feet, fingers fisted, ready to fight as she quickly oriented herself. She glanced at her phone, groaned at the lost couple of hours, and then hustled toward the door. She opened it to find Gideon and Clarke standing on the front porch steps. “Hey, fellas.”

  Gideon’s gaze pried into her, as if he was searching for a nugget of information that would answer questions that went back more than a decade. “Did we wake you?”

  Joan moistened her lips and drew in a breath. “No. Just about to make a second pot of coffee. You guys want any?”

  “No,” Gideon said.

  “Can we come in?” Clarke asked.

  Joan stepped aside. “Sure. I figured you’d be back this morning. You boys know where the fire started, so I’ll leave you to it while I make coffee.”

  “Did you sleep at all last night?” Gideon asked.

  “I don’t need much.”

  “What about Ann and Nate?” Clarke asked.

  “Both got to bed. Nate went right off to sleep, and Ann finally gave up and grabbed a few hours.”

  “Did you have any other problems last night?” Gideon asked.

  “No,” she said. “Very quiet.”