by V. R. Marks
"Rick, that fire," she pointed at the charred building, "was a message."
"To you."
"Yes, to me," she agreed. "Last night I thought maybe I was just being paranoid, but when you add in the fire at the gang house and my name all over the news it becomes the logical conclusion."
"One possible conclusion." He pulled out his phone and sent a text. "Eva will steamroll her way through the red tape and get us the preliminary report on both fires as they come in. Grab your camera and let's see what we can get from the scene. I don't want to stay very long."
"That's a deal."
"Finally."
Ignoring that reference, she got out of the car with a smidge more enthusiasm. This place didn't feel safe, despite the plethora of law enforcement milling about. Correction, the milling authorities meant it didn't feel safe for her.
All of them had seen her picture, possibly taken statements from people like Mrs. Beaumont who wanted to do the right thing as a citizen and as Nicole's friend. Would the ball cap and boy jeans be enough?
"Relax, Nick. The fire's out." Rick pitched his voice so only she could hear it. "Start snapping that shutter already."
Easy for him to say, he didn't have two government agencies and a gang looking for him.
Behind the camera, she did relax, using the limited view of the lens as a filter between the harsh reality and her emotional reactions. She recorded the damage, one angle at a time. With every shot that didn't show that dreaded signature, her breath and heart rate settled closer to normal. She zoomed in and out, as different details caught her eye.
A discarded teddy bear near the breezeway drew her attention. Muddy and flattened by residents and firefighters, she immediately thought of the child who was missing it.
A child and family out of a home because of her. Where would they have Thanksgiving dinner? How long before they had a place to call their own again, or felt safe enough to celebrate the holidays?
"Let's go a little closer."
No. Closer meant more details she didn't think she could handle. Closer meant more risk. Her feet, in Kyle's shoes, felt like blocks of ice as she followed him.
Closer.
She heard him speaking – to her or other people, she couldn't be sure as the words didn't register. Keeping the camera trained on the building, she tagged along in his wake, adjusting her angle and focus, hoping she captured something that would help both of them.
They'd reached the side of the building where her apartment had been. The big oak tree in the courtyard, full of life and completely unharmed, was a sharp counterpoint to the melted, soot-covered siding of the building.
"You're thinking this is the spot?" Rick asked.
"It fits the information coming together," came the weary reply.
It took tremendous energy just to breathe, to loosen her grip on the camera as the answers to Rick's many questions implicated her involvement in the blaze.
Swagger. Nick Lazlo wouldn't care about the answers pointing to Nicole. Confidence. Nick's life was under control. No one on either side of the law was searching for him.
Whatever story Rick had offered, the people at the scene were more than happy to cooperate with him. She should be soaking up everything possible. If she learned from his example, it could help her make adjustments as she developed her new life.
She listened more closely, realizing he was subtly telling her which pictures he wanted. Safety precautions kept them outside, but she was able to zoom in on key places. Not perfect, but it would have to do.
"Have they picked up Livingston?"
"Not that I've heard. The police have her picture everywhere so it's just a matter of time before they find her. Apparently she was a firebug as a juvie."
Rick snorted. "Really? We could use a copy of that for our records."
"Me too. One of the alphabet jackets mentioned it and I put in a request. We've got at least two other agencies poking around today trying to track her down. This woman's a piece of work."
"Must be to set the blaze in her own place."
Nicole kept the 'swagger-confidence-innocent man' mantra cycling in her head. It kept her from screaming or otherwise blowing her cover. She focused her lens on the blackened area where her bedroom window had been, zooming in to get a closer look.
The fire had burned hot and fast here. From her limited experience, she guessed this was the flash point. Definitely an accelerant. She'd seen what lighter fluid could do when tossed into and carpeting. If the fire had left anything of her front door, it would likely show no signs of a break in. She didn't believe the arsonist, assuming it was the same disturbed man, had made that mistake.
"What's the word on gangs around here?"
"In this neighborhood? No way."
"Really?" Didn't Rick know another reply? "I was sure I saw some gang color on the news footage. And there's the alphabet soup hanging around. I just thought –"
"Well it was an inferno. Those draw a big crowd."
"Yeah. Just seemed like an odd place to stop and gawk if they didn't have a dog in the fight so to speak."
Go Rick! Anything that got people looking for a solution beyond her was a good thing.
She moved backward, letting him fuel the rumor mill while she did her best to document the fire's trail through the building.
"DEA," a deep voice said beside her. "Hand over the camera."
She lowered the camera, but kept her finger on the shutter, capturing the guy's face. It wasn't the agent she feared most, but she worried he was nearby.
"No," she said, coughing into her elbow and pulling the camera out of his reach. What cover had Rick offered? "Investigations."
"Show me your credentials."
"Over there." She took a side step toward the building and the safety of Rick. "With my boss." Like a boxer, she danced out of reach as the agent lunged for the camera strap.
Twisting free, she got another half step and screamed as he tackled her from behind. Her cap went flying as they landed and the baffled expression on the agent's face when he flipped her face up again made her panic. He realized he'd landed on a woman and in the next second, his eyes narrowed and lit with recognition.
"It's Liv –"
She cut off his cry of alarm with a knee to his groin. Squirming and shoving, she got free and rolled to her feet. "Help!"
But Rick was already on the way, cutting off the agent's partner en route.
"What's the matter with you?" he demanded of the DEA agents. Handing Nicole her ball cap he stepped up, shielding her from their view.
"That woman is a suspect," the man on the ground managed.
"Bull." Rick flashed a badge. "This man is my assistant. I want your names and contact information right now."
"Hand over the camera."
"Hell, no. We're with National Insurance. We've got as much right to be here as any of the other investigators. We have clients to protect."
While the agents blustered, he turned to Nicole. "Go on." He urged her toward the car, pressing the key into her hand.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she darted across the street, pressing the unlock button and wishing for a remote starter. Rick wasn't going to be able to talk his way out of this one. They would see through his identification and drop him into a legal stew.
Her fault. Her fault. Her fault. The words haunted her as she threw herself into the car and her hands fumbled the key as she tried to start the engine. She had to get to him, give him a way to escape. Or drive away and hope they chased her.
Either way, if she didn't hurry they'd arrest Rick. Irrevocably tied to her, his career would be over and possibly his life if the murderous DEA agent's streak continued.
Panic had her heart in a vise, tears blurred her vision, and she screamed when the driver's door opened.
"Scoot over."
Rick's voice. Calm, soothing. Glancing up into his face, absolute relief washed over her. She wouldn't have to figure out how to rescue him. She wouldn't h
ave to feel guilty for running off without him.
"Now."
She moved, letting him slide behind the wheel. "You okay?"
"If okay includes terrified and cowardly," she confessed. "He knows it was me. God, I've screwed this up. It was stupid to think I could get away. Just take me back to the marshal's office."
"I convinced him he was mistaken."
"H-how?"
"Well, first I conceded your vague resemblance to the suspect. Then I pointed out the PR nightmare of an innocent transgender employee being accosted by an overzealous agent with a bully complex. That kind of approach won't win the hearts and minds of the general population. Assuming they care about that kind of thing."
"Oh." She might breathe normally again sometime before the turn of the century. "Thank you. I heard him say 'DEA' and then he reached for the camera and –"
"Shh. Take a breath. We're not out of the woods yet. That crime scene is like a giant office water cooler. The rumors are ridiculous and most of them center on you."
Chapter 8
Rick let that sink in while he called Eva and gave her an update so she could eventually verify the story he'd given the DEA agents.
"The lines I fed those two won't give us much of a head start. We need to dump the car and find a place to lay low."
"Okay."
"North or south?"
"South."
Well that was progress, if small. Nicole's reaction only solidified his theory that the danger aimed at her was escalating. Her outright terror of the DEA agents worried him. She'd held strong through so much already, maybe she was just that close to the snapping point.
Her scream when he opened the car door had torn him up inside. She was deathly afraid of being found by the DEA agent who'd killed her neighbor. Obviously the federal prosecutors agreed with her assessment or they wouldn't have hidden her with WITSEC. Since junior high. The mind boggled over the sacrifice of that kind of timing.
If she'd been safe for this long, how had they found her and why did they still want her dead?
"I'm sorry I didn't see the DEA team before they saw you."
"It's okay."
Her fragile voice was far from convincing. "Whatever it is, Nicole. Remember? I'm not leaving you to deal with it alone."
"You should," she whispered.
"Too late. You might as well tell me all of it."
She only stared out the window.
"How did he find you?"
Her head flopped back on the headrest and she closed her eyes. Several minutes went by and he thought maybe she'd dozed off. "I don't know," she said. "I've been so careful. Annoyingly careful."
There was a flash of temper in her voice now. Hearing it raised his hopes. Temper never went down easy and he wanted to believe Nicole still wanted to give her enemies a good, hard fight.
"I never drive more than four miles over the posted limit. No one gets to know the real me. I always know my provided background inside and out. My camera is usually between me and anything too interesting.
"You know they fought me on that. WITSEC I mean." She jerked against the seat belt so she could face him. "When they moved me when… the last time. They said I couldn't keep the camera. They said I had to find a different hobby."
"Why?" But he knew the answer.
"The whole reset button thing. Do you know how many people wish for a life reset button? It's not nearly as cool as it sounds."
"No." He didn't have to change his name when his wife died, but everything else had shifted. Other than his career, all of it still remained a little off, like a broken bone that never healed properly.
"I offered them stats about people and cameras. Hobbyists and professionals." She sat back again, arms crossed over her chest. "Got a new camera out of the deal."
"Congratulations?"
"It was better than the damned sketchbook they suggested."
He laughed. Couldn't stop it if he'd tried. He had a ridiculous image of her trying to sketch any one of the many shots on her camera.
"It's two completely different mediums," she ranted.
"I know." He managed to catch his breath. "I get it."
"He didn't find me through the camera."
Rick agreed. But there were plenty of other resources available to people with the right clearances, he thought as they passed a traffic camera on the interstate. "You know that taking action despite resistance thing I do?"
"Yeah."
"I'm about to do it again."
She twisted in her seat, looking for the threat.
"No one's found us yet. I just want to keep it that way." He noted the current mile marker and envisioned the new route in his mind. He couldn't be sure exactly how far south they were going, but he'd feel better if they were going through less populated areas. And maybe, if he made it seem like a short detour, he could convince her to go see Allie.
"We'll take the back roads, unless you have a better plan."
"Works for me."
"It would be more efficient if you'd tell me where we're going." He intended to loosely follow the railroad, based on her earlier determination to get to the train station. It made sense, if she'd taken the time to develop a plan, to create little caches along an easily accessible route like the railroad that connected Florida to Maine.
"What's your favorite type of subject? To photograph," he clarified. When he'd gone through the recent photos, it seemed like she had a thing for fountains and parks, but maybe that was just because the area was close at hand. She had been intent to the point of reverent in the chapel this morning.
"I'm pretty opportunistic. The composition matters more than the particular subject. Behind the lens I feel like myself. It's more real. Inside the pictures I can see the world as the most real me would see it." She removed her hat and pulled her ponytail forward, taking out each band. "That sounds stupid."
"Not at all." He knew how it felt to flounder. Since losing his wife, he felt apart and alone unless he'd been on a mission with his team. Still, he couldn't imagine being forced to learn a new name, a new personal history, and to walk around essentially a stranger inside himself.
"Why do you ask?"
"Trying to find the connection. Why burn down your apartment unless there was something incriminating inside?"
"The photos or records of them?"
"Are they all on your personal computer?"
"Only while I'm editing. I use a cloud storage account and have a hard drive as back up."
One hand on the wheel, he drummed a random rhythm on his leg with the other. "Who knows that?"
"No one. Who would care enough to ask? Pictures for work I edit at work."
And that computer had been hacked. There had to be another piece. Sure the corrupt DEA agent could point to Nicole as a firebug, hoping it would flush her out and trip her up, but how had he known where to find her?
"What if the fire at your apartment is related to Allie's case and the agent who's been after you just happened to catch the news?"
"Why would anyone at the company want to burn down my apartment?"
"Because your camera caught something it shouldn't." His instincts were humming. "I really need to get that photo of Roberts to my boss."
"You're implying Roberts had someone search my apartment and set the fire?"
"Yes."
"Then why would the DEA try to snatch my camera?"
"Assuming they know nothing about Allie's case, they were probably hoping you caught something to lead them to Nicole. To you."
She picked up the camera and started scrolling through the pictures. "I can upload the SD card to the cloud and send pictures to any email address from there too. We just need to find a computer."
"I've only got an iPad with me."
She hummed. "That can work." She glanced around. "In your backpack?"
He nodded, wondering what she was up to as she rummaged around behind the seat before settling back with his iPad in hand. She turned it on and smi
led at the screen lock. "Smart man. Can you unlock it while you're driving?"
"Yeah." He got it on the second try and handed it back to her. "Just don't hack me or lock me out," he teased.
"Not my area," she said, clearly distracted.
He realized what she was doing, using the iPad camera to capture the image displayed on her camera, but he had no idea if it would work.
"Awesome!" She turned the iPad so he could see it.
"Great," he agreed with a nod. The image of Roberts talking with the homeless man was crystal clear. "Email it to the RCI addresses in my contacts list."
"All of them?"
"Please."
"Any message?"
"Just add the date the picture was taken."
"Anything else?"
"Nope." He wanted to let his boss know he had a new case, but he didn't want Nicole sending that particular email. Eva was probably already on it. Knowing how tangled up their boss was over Allie, and how much Allie worried for Nicole, it wasn't a big leap to conclude Rick would want to sort out Nicole's troubles.
"All done."
"Great. Thanks." Now to ditch the car. It meant calling Eva again, but it couldn't be helped. Between the DEA and the federal marshals he wanted to reduce the odds stacked up against them. Eva would give anyone who asked enough of a story to keep them busy, but that wasn't any guarantee of long-term safety.
They were alone on a two-lane highway and not a traffic camera in sight. "Any chance you've got a car stashed on your escape route?"
She shook her head. "I planned to rent one at some point."
He managed not to gawk at the volunteered information. More progress was a good thing. "Not with your own credit card?"
"No. I do have some common sense. The feds aren't the only ones who can create an ID."
He chuckled. "Think of the unemployed forgers if that were true."
"An entire cottage industry down the drain," she deadpanned. "Oh, the humanity."
"A definite tragedy." His mind spinning, anticipating Eva's reaction to dumping the car, it took a moment to realize his phone was ringing. He put it on speaker, but signaled Nicole to stay quiet.
