Fatal Game

by Diane Capri

  Only the growing siren’s sound filled the air. And, back in the clearing, the fire’s voracious roar continued to build.

  When she’d put enough distance between them, Jess paused to catch her breath. She crouched down in the shadows.

  He loosed off a dozen random shots into the woods before he turned and ran back to the fire. He threw a plastic gas container into the flames and took off into the woods behind where the house had been.

  The container ignited with a whump. Giant flames washed over the charred remains of the house and spiraled into the air.

  The first siren was close. A second siren wailed in the distance.

  Jess turned on her flashlight and headed out of the woods. She’d come back for the phone later. If she detoured to pick it up now, she’d lose him. The flames illuminated the area behind the house, and she saw a trail winding up the hill. Jess headed after the man.

  She kept her light aimed at the ground. Ahead, his flashlight danced through the trees. He was running. She dashed after him.

  At the bottom of the hill, the siren had been switched off and replaced with the heavy engine roar of a fire engine.

  She kept going. Following the arsonist.

  The trail was nothing but two ruts worn into the undergrowth by passing vehicles. She moved as fast as she could, keeping her light on the path.

  He had a head start. He was two hundred yards in front of her and moving fast. She caught occasional glimpses of his flashlight, and she hoped he didn’t look back to see hers.

  Abruptly, things changed. He shouted, and his light rolled over.

  Jess slowed. Maybe someone had set animal traps out here. If he was caught in a trap, he’d be even more dangerous.

  She heard grunting, and his flashlight began moving again. He wasn’t caught. He’d stumbled for some reason, but he wasn’t stopped. His light abruptly disappeared.

  Jess kept moving forward, but she was still too far behind. She’d never gotten a good look at him.

  An engine started. A deep rumble.

  Jess ran toward the vehicle. The trail leveled out. She reached the top of the hill where the trees thinned.

  A hundred feet away headlights blazed into the night. She caught the familiar outline of a Jeep as it rocketed forward, twisted along the path to avoid a thick tree, and roared down the slope. The Jeep’s headlights bounced wildly, light flicking from side to side down a bumpy trail.

  Jess ran after the vehicle as it clawed down the slope, but her effort to catch the Jeep in the dark was hopeless.

  In moments, only the red tail lights were visible. The brake lights flared and twisted left before racing away. From there, the headlights advanced smoothly. He had reached the road.

  She watched until the tail lights disappeared before she worked her way back along the trail. Spotlights illuminated the blaze and a fire crew dousing the flames. Two police vehicles were parked in the driveway.

  She froze when she heard a shotgun ratcheted behind her. She turned her head slowly.

  “Miss Kimball.” Captain Mercer glowered at her. He didn’t lower the shotgun. “What are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Tuesday, May 23

  Bear Hill, Arizona

  Jess raised her hands and turned her body to face Captain Mercer.

  He lowered his shotgun. “This is a crime scene. It’s not open to sightseers.”

  “I had to look at the house again.” She lowered her hands and nodded toward the remains of the house. “So did the man who set that fire. I’ll show you.”

  Jess walked toward the destroyed kitchen. Mercer walked beside her, but she felt his hostility like a palpable thing. She stopped and pointed. “I first noticed him standing right there, watching the fire. When he saw me, he started shooting. I ran, and he chased me. But I think the sirens scared him off.”

  “Did you see him set the fire?”

  “No, but he threw a can of gas into the flames before he ran away.”

  Mercer sniffed the air and nodded. “Did you get any pictures? Video? Anything we can use to identify the arsonist?”

  “I didn’t have a camera.” Jess shook her head. “I used my phone as a decoy when he was looking for me. I left it in the trees.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  She closed her eyes to visualize him clearly. “Tall. Square shoulders. Muscular. Ponytail. Looked like dark hair, but in this light, I can’t be sure.” She opened her eyes. “I ran after him, but he had a Jeep parked over the top of the hill. Took off down the other side like a scalded cat.”

  “Did you see the license plates?”

  She shook her head. “It was too dark. And I never got close enough.”

  “Muscular guy with a ponytail,” Mercer said, sarcastically. “That narrows it down to no more than half the local male population.”

  Jess’s breath quickened, and she arched her eyebrows. “How do you know he’s a local?”

  Mercer pointed up the hill. “I know the two-track. He had to leave the blacktop road a couple of miles away and ford a stream on the dirt road to find that trail, even in the daylight. No way to take off like a scalded cat unless he was really familiar with its twists and turns. Damn thing’s got potholes big enough to stop a Jeep.”

  “Know any locals with a Jeep and a ponytail?” Jess’s appreciation for Mercer had improved a bit. He wasn’t as clueless as he’d seemed this afternoon. But something was definitely pushing his buttons about this case.

  “At least a dozen.” Mercer nodded. “It’s a popular style around here if you want to call a grown man wearing a ponytail a style.”

  Mercer looked away when the fire chief called out.

  “Stay put. We’re not done talking. I’ll be right back.” Mercer walked away without waiting for her answer. They talked in hushed tones, pointing to the latest fire, and up and down the hill. When they finished, the fire chief called to his men to pack up.

  Mercer returned to Jess. “I talked to your editor this afternoon. He didn’t seem concerned that you were already in trouble here.”

  “He’s all heart.” Jess shrugged. Carter was old school. He thought reporters weren’t doing their jobs unless they were ruffling feathers.

  “My point is, this situation is not some kind of sensational story for your readers.” He frowned. “If you’re looking to polish your reputation, Ms. Kimball, this is not the place to do it.”

  “That’s insulting, Mercer. You know nothing about me, or my magazine or my readers.” She balled her fists at her side and settled her weight as if she might have cause to throw punches. “Two people died here this afternoon. But another one is still alive, thanks to me. I was damn lucky to get us out when that house exploded. I’ve got every right to want to know who is responsible.”

  Mercer looked at her for a long moment. He shifted his weight. “Ernie was well liked around here.” He swallowed. “The officer that died has a wife and child.”

  “I saw them this afternoon.” Jess’s anger banked a bit. She blinked. “It’s heartbreaking.”

  “So, don’t get in my way. And don’t keep information from me, or mess with my evidence.” Mercer pursed his lips. After a moment, he cleared his throat. His pugilistic expression consumed his features, and his tone was quiet with promised menace. “You mess up this case, and I will personally make sure you go to jail along with the scum who did this.”

  “Not likely, Mercer.” She stuck out her chin. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “I don’t actually care who you think you are.” Mercer scowled. “Because the officer who died in that house this afternoon was my son-in-law.”

  Her indignation deflated. Jess bit her lip and blinked. “Mrs. Cook is your daughter?”

  “That’s right.” Mercer nodded. “And this is a murder investigation now. Don’t break the rules again unless you’re ready to face the consequences.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Tuesday, May 23

  Santa
Irene, Arizona

  Hades and Cora lay on the bed. It was late, but he couldn’t sleep. Not until Pony came back from the house. Maybe not even then. He hadn’t slept much since Sunday. He loved home invasions like this one. Invasions were a buzz better than any other. The planning, the execution, everything about them spiked his energy and excited his senses like a non-stop electric charge to his nervous system.

  His mind was racing. Partly because this invasion was special. This one was for Benny.

  Lawson didn’t know why they were here. Not yet. Right now, Lawson believed the invasion was random. That he was simply unlucky. He was right, in a way. He should never have done what he did to Benny. That’s when Lawson became unlucky. More unlucky than he could have ever imagined.

  Hades laughed. Cora whimpered in her sleep. She was so friggin’ beautiful. He marveled at how perfect she was. Very soon, they’d find themselves a beach somewhere. Just the two of them. The thought of it made him hard, and he almost woke her. But she only had another hour to sleep, so he left her alone.

  He thought about Lawson’s secret account. An offshore brokerage account. Puzzling. Hades appreciated a good puzzle. Lawson was more clever than most. It appeared he’d set up one account that invested money in the next one in the chain. Kind of like a scavenger hunt. But a chain of how many before Hades found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?

  Yet, the online services of each company were restricted. Each provided a phone number and an email address. Nothing else. No account details, no balance, and no hint of the nature of the transactions.

  So Lawson had gone to a lot of trouble. Which meant he was hiding something, probably big. Otherwise, why all that secrecy? The last company in the chain was Robertson & Robertson. Hades had never heard of them. Pretending to be Lawson, Hades had sent them an email a few hours ago. So far, no response. Which could be a time zone thing, perhaps.

  He took a deep breath. Patience.

  He glanced at the windows. The house was completely silent. The drapes were closed over the big windows. Behind the heavy fabric, Shorty had taped sheets of black plastic to keep light from spilling outside. As a result, the room was pitch black. The only illumination came from the master bathroom night light.

  Shorty was on watch. He was in the bedroom down the hall. He sat in the dark, watching the street through a thin slit in the plastic. It was dull and tedious work, so the four of them took three-hour shifts around the clock.

  Hades had done his stint. In another hour, it would be Cora’s turn. She was an equal member of the crew. She shared the same duty watch as the others, and she served without complaint. He’d chosen his queen well, indeed.

  Shorty whistled. Hades rolled off the bed and sprinted to his side in less than two seconds.

  “Pony’s back,” Shorty said.

  Hades looked through the slit in the plastic. In the dim glow of the streetlights, he saw Pony in shadow. He was alone, but Hades searched the length of the street from every window as he headed downstairs to let him enter through the locked steel garage door in the back.

  Pony locked the door behind him and placed a hand on Hades’ arm.

  Hades’ senses prickled. “What’s wrong?”

  Pony lowered his voice. “The house was mostly destroyed already, but I burned the remainder.”

  “Good.”

  “There were two cops in the house when it exploded.”

  Hades swore. He paced back and forth on the garage carpet. “What did they find?”

  “From what I heard when I asked around, nothing. They’d barely got inside when the explosion started the fire. They were upstairs and couldn’t get out.”

  “But the place is completely gone now. Everything reduced to ashes. Yes?”

  Pony nodded. “Yeah, yeah. It was a big explosion and a hot fire. Mostly burned to the ground before the fire department could get out there. Then I finished it off tonight.”

  “So, we’ve got nothing to worry about.” Hades wished he felt as secure as he sounded.

  Pony took a deep breath. “One of the cops got out. The other one died. You know how cops are when they lose one of their own. They’ll never give up.”

  “If it’s all burned, they’ve got nothing to find.” He only needed a couple more days, but Pony didn’t know that and Hades didn’t plan to tell him. He turned and led the way into the kitchen.

  Pony drew a glass of water from the tap and leaned against the counter to drink it. “There was a woman there when I burned the last part of the house.”

  Hades’ anger flared, and he tamped it back. “And?”

  “She might have seen me. She had a flashlight and there was light from the fire.”

  He knew what was coming before Pony said anything more. “You weren’t wearing your mask.”

  Pony shifted his weight.

  Hades hammered his fist into the refrigerator’s stainless steel door. “Damnit! What have I…” He paused to breathe and get himself under control. “What have I told you about wearing your mask every single time?”

  “I know, I know.” Pony waved his hands in front of him. “But it was hot, and there was no one around to see me. I was in the woods, late at night. It’s totally black out there tonight. Zero moonlight. There was—”

  “I don’t give a damn about what there was, Pony!” Hades’ temper erupted like a volcano from deep in his gut. “Someone saw you.”

  “Might have seen me. I can’t be sure—”

  There was a long silence while Hades struggled to control himself. He didn’t want to kill Pony if he didn’t have to. For Benny’s sake. This could be okay. Pony could be right. But even as he tried to persuade himself, he knew the truth.

  “Okay. She probably didn’t see you, like you said. But why the hell didn’t you kill her?”

  “I went after her. But she ran into the woods, and by the time I was closing in, I heard sirens. I had to go.” Pony ducked his head. He didn’t like to admit he’d screwed up, Hades could tell. Not that it mattered what he liked and didn’t. Not anymore.

  Hades looked at the floor and shook his head. “What an absolute—”

  “She probably won’t—”

  Hades snapped. He ripped his VBR pistol from its holster and pointed it at Pony’s head. “Don’t you dare tell me what she will or won’t do!”

  Pony raised his hands in front of him. “I didn’t mean—”

  Hades shook the gun. “Shut up!”

  Pony kept his hands up, in front of him. His gaze was locked on Hades, as if he hoped by ignoring the two-pound chunk of lethal metal between them, it would vanish.

  Hades adjusted his grip on the VBR. He breathed heavily. Pony kept staring.

  Hades calmed himself. He lowered the gun. His tone was quiet, measured. “I’m the one with the experience here, Pony. I make the decisions. I organize the jobs. Do you understand me?”

  Pony nodded miserably.

  “The fire killed two people. One was a cop. So they’ll dig into every angle, and you’ve just been seen.”

  “That wasn’t my—”

  “I know. But with a cop down, they won’t give up. What if that woman gives them a good description of you? Or a picture? Maybe she took a picture.” Hayes patted Pony’s shoulder. “You’ll have to stay here with us until we’re done. We can’t risk them finding you.”

  Pony lowered his eyes and shook his head.

  “It’ll be okay. Everything will work out. We just need to keep you out of sight for a while.” Hades pointed to Simon Lawson’s computer. “Check the Internet. News sites, gossip, police, anything that might have any reports about that damn house. We’ll only be here a couple of days. Everything will work out, Pony. It wasn’t your fault.”

  But of course, it was Pony’s fault. After a cop had died when Cora stole the first van, the last thing they needed was another cop dead. Two jurisdictions. Plus the feds now, probably. Pony had put the entire operation at serious risk tonight, and he had to know it. Hades would be
the one to deal with the problem. But he had to think about the best thing to do. For now, he walked back upstairs and returned to bed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Tuesday, May 23

  Bear Hill, Arizona

  Jess rose early the next morning after a few hours of fitful tossing. She showered, breakfasted, and drove into town before seven o’clock.

  The building was easy to find. A large, illuminated sign perched out front proclaimed Bear Hill Police Department in front of a single-story block construction, L-shaped, with a red brick facade and smoked glass windows. The parking lot nestled in the crook of the L. Three parking spaces were reserved for police vehicles. Only one was occupied, and the cruiser wasn’t Mercer’s.

  Jess parked the Mustang in guest parking and walked into the station. The large, open reception area was filled with three rows of molded plastic chairs facing a counter. A woman behind the counter typed on a keyboard. She looked up when Jess entered. “You looking for Captain Mercer?”

  “Jess Kimball. He asked me to meet him here at seven o’clock.”

  “He’s out. Should be back soon.” She gestured to the rows of chairs. “Take a seat.”

  Jess sat and waited. Minutes ticked by. The woman behind the counter finished her typing and walked deeper into the building.

  Jess poured herself a drink from a small coffee maker on the counter. The carafe looked like it had been there for years. The coffee tasted the same.

  Mandy called. Jess stepped outside to answer. She poured the thick sludge into the bushes and dropped the paper cup into a trash can perched on the sidewalk.

  “I’ve found the information you wanted on that cylinder.” When Mandy launched right into her purpose, that usually meant she’d found something useful. Jess smiled. “It’s from one of the big chemical companies. I called. Talked to a rep and sent you an email about it. The cylinder is an old-style bottle. They identified it from the engraving. It holds methane.”