Fire Angel (12 page)

The raccoons would have a feast if they ever got in here this time,
she thought.
Now I have another reason to keep the door locked.

She shivered and looked around. The cabin really was quite isolated; she shook her head. No, she was not ready to let a bully push her out of her own bed. With that thought in mind, she finished getting ready, but after she removed what she needed from her suitcase, she left the rest of it packed. She would put away the munchies later; right now, she needed food.

She grabbed her coat and her fire investigation kit. The hot pink tool box was a running joke. She needed breakfast, and then she wanted to see the fire scenes. She hoped Jake or a police officer or two, could come with her; despite her bravado last night, knowing how sick this individual was reminded her that there was safety in numbers.

As she walked across the parking lot, she examined the scenery. Majestic pine trees stood sentinel-like atop the cliffs. In the distance, she could see rolling hills covered with a mix of bare-branched deciduous and evergreen trees. Between the cabins and the inn, she glimpsed the bare stone edge of the gorge; she could hear the melody produced by the water rushing along its base. It reminded her of something Gramps used to say — without the rocks and stones, a stream can't sing.

Alexis opened the door to the office and entered the lounge opposite the restaurant. The room was designed for utility and comfort. Couches and tables had been arranged into conversational groupings. On the far wall, beside the floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the gorge, was a bookshelf full of books and games as well as DVDs. Next to the shelving unit were sliding doors that led to a veranda that seemed to run the length of the inn and restaurant. It was probably a great place to sit and enjoy a cold beer during the summer months. Half a dozen people, some in traditional Temagami costumes, sat on couches, chatting, or reading the newspapers that Jake must have delivered. In the corner, a gourmet coffee machine stood ready to deliver anyone's favorite brew.

Alexis looked back at the desk and recognized the desk clerk as the bus boy who had brought her the note last night. She walked over to the counter and smiled.

“Hi, do you remember me?” she asked.

The young man blushed. “Yes, Ms. Michaels. I have a phone message for you.” He handed her a slip of paper. She read:
Please call Nick Pruett 442-7765
. She suddenly felt nauseous. How did he know she was here? Who had told him? Was it the man she'd spoken to last night, Allan something or other? Or did he have access to inside information like the killer did?

She couldn't deal with this now — not yet. Facing her uncle now would threaten the self-confidence it had taken her years to build. Damn! With one note, one lousy note, he had reduced her to the sniveling coward she'd been sixteen years ago.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” asked the clerk. He could see she was upset.

She took a deep, calming breath and stuffed the note in her pocket. She would deal with this later, after this case was over. She couldn't let herself get emotionally derailed by anything. All her focus and energy had to be on this job. She pulled herself together.

“Yes. I was wondering if you could tell me who gave you that note last night.”

“Sorry, ma'am, I wish I could. Mr. McKenzie asked me that earlier, but I didn't see who left it.” He shook his head.

She winced a little. “Ma'am” was what she had called that old battle axe of a Spanish teacher in Tulsa.

“The note was left on one of the tables where we keep extra linens and stuff in the dining room. When I went to get a clean cloth, there was that note, addressed to you at table seven. There was a twenty dollar bill with it.”

“What did you do with the money?”

He grinned. “Stopped for a beer on the way home.”

“Do you know where I can find Jake?”

“Yes, ma'am; he's in the restaurant having lunch. He went in about ten minutes ago.”

“Thanks.”

She turned and entered the restaurant. Jake sat at the bar where he had sat the night before. His face lit up when he saw her.

“Good afternoon, sleep well?” he asked standing to help her off with her coat. “Let's take the table in the corner.” He spoke to the bartender and grabbed his cup of coffee. “Leon will bring you coffee in a second.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back and directed her to the corner table, well away from any other diners. Alexis was pleased to see that he was hardly limping today. Obviously, his leg felt better after a few hours of sleep.

She had mentioned to him last night that she had planned to contact her boss today and he asked her how it had gone. Alexis filled him in on the details. She was happy to see that the fact that she would continue to work the case pleased him. She usually preferred working alone, but having Jake as a partner would not be so bad a thing after all.

“He went on and on about my personal safety, even insisted that I carry my gun,” she said and shrugged. “I really hate that thing; besides how would a gun help me, since this guy's weapon of choice is fire?”

“You never know; he might diversify; he's been pretty creative with fire from what we've seen. Your safety is important to me too,” he said. “You shouldn't take any chances. By the way, how, given the current state of international security, did you manage to get a gun through customs?”

“Oh, that was easy. I put it in my suitcase; I have a special international law enforcement permit that allows me to carry my Ruger P93 almost anywhere in the world; Peters won't let us work cases in countries where our safety might be at risk. I use an ankle holster most of the time, but I have a shoulder one too, and one of those cute little thigh bands for special occasions. And before you ask, I did take it out of the suitcase earlier; it's in the ankle holster and I'm wearing shoe boots.”

He leered lasciviously at her, crinkling his eyebrows half a dozen times. “A woman who carries a gun, why do I find that so stimulating? Tell me, do you have handcuffs too?”

Alexis burst out laughing. “You idiot,” she said good-naturedly. “As a matter of fact, I use plastic ties — lighter to carry, more flexible, and more efficient. You can't pick the locks, Houdini.”

Jake joined in her laughter. The waiter came to the table and delivered a carafe of coffee and two plates full of bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast.

“This is perfect!” She smiled and set to work on her plate. “How did you know I would rather have breakfast than lunch?”

“Well,” he replied sheepishly. “I didn't; it's what I prefer. I took a chance that you weren't vegetarian despite your choice of entrée last night.”

“I don't usually eat so late,” Alexis explained. “Of course, if I'd realized that we'd be out all night, I definitely would have ordered steak.” She added cream and sugar to her coffee and drank. “Delicious, and just what I needed.”

While they finished their breakfasts, both judiciously avoided discussing last night's fire. There were a few people in the restaurant, and since the arsonist appeared to be local, they didn't want to take a chance on being overheard. Alexis quietly mentioned what she had learned from Randy, the desk clerk.

“I know; I spoke to him earlier. If I'd known that the stalker was in the room at the time, I'd have strangled him with my bare hands,” said Jake.

“I'll go through the receipts and the reservation book and see if there's a name that rings a bell. I didn't notice any new faces last night, or any one that I would have been surprised to see, but since we know he's local … There were a few truckers, the family with car trouble, and Reverend Lewis was here with his wife Marcy; it was their twentieth wedding anniversary.” He closed his eyes as if he were trying to picture the dining room last night.

“Dr. Shillingham comes in every Sunday on his way back from Ottawa. One of these days, he'll bring a date, and Cyndi will be devastated. He's a widower, lost his wife and daughter in a drive-by shooting in Toronto; he moved back here about four years ago.” He drank his coffee.

“Offhand, I can't remember anyone else — oh wait; I think Frank Arthur and his cronies were still here. You saw him last night; he owns the mobile canteen in town. He's under contract with the town and gets called to emergencies like last night's fire. It's the only way the boys can get a drink and a break. He and his buddies have all had some bad luck in recent years. Frank lost his wife and daughter about six years ago; his mother moved away to live with her sister last year. He does odd jobs around here, and since I can't hunt anymore, he supplies the game for the Temagami specials on our menu.”

After she had poured and doctored a second cup of coffee for each of them, Jake leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs into the aisle. He continued his narrative.

“Taylor's wife died of cancer last spring. They didn't have any kids. Harold and Jim are two crusty old bachelors who own adjacent farms on the outskirts of town; they're constantly complaining about government interference in farming. Don't get them started on milk quotas. As far as I know, they've never had dates, let alone families,” he chuckled and took a sip of his coffee.

“I've spoken to the staff, and you won't be left in the dark tonight. Minette's going to put a couple of emergency lamps out there, the kind that revert to battery power if the electricity goes out as it tends to do in bad weather. If you don't mind my asking, how did you pick up that little idiosyncrasy about the dark?”

“Last spring, a man set fire to a tenement in Los Angeles. No one told him that there were still people living there, or so he claimed. I figured out how the fire started and behaved, and because of my expertise, he was arrested. He had powerful friends who tried to stop me from testifying. One of them was waiting in my hotel room one night. If the guy had been a better shot, I'd be dead. I survived; they went to jail. Now, I carry a gun of my own, but unfortunately, I've developed this hang-up about entering dark rooms.” She took a mouthful of her coffee.

“That has to be rough,” said Jake. “I don't suppose too many fire scenes have restored power. It must be pretty dark in some of those places. So, tell me again why you decided to put yourself through this.”

Alexis sighed. “When the chief gave me this assignment, all I knew was that over a dozen people had been killed. I was doing this for them, but now it's also for those women and children who thought they were safe. It's my responsibility to get justice for them and to give their families closure. I was once in their shoes, Jake; I was the one looking for a safe haven. I can't turn my back on them. Besides, my pretty pink kit glows in the dark.” She took another mouthful of coffee, and let the sadness of the memory engulf her.

“At Sanctuary, there was a woman with three little kids — six, three, and nine months old. They were living in one tiny room; they were hiding from the man she had married who had turned into an abusive, controlling monster. He drank, like my uncle did; he abused her, hit those beautiful babies, and threatened to kill her. The women in that shelter last night were like her. They had left a bad place and instead of finding safety, they found death.”

Alexis could feel her anger growing as she relived the horror of last night. “In his note, this monster calls himself Fire Angel, but he's no angel. Angels are kind and caring; he's anything but, and I'll see him in Hell where he belongs no matter what it takes. No one deserves to burn to death. I'll study the crime scenes, find out how he manipulates the fire, how he makes it do his dirty work. At each scene, I'll find a little piece of his soul. I'll get to know him through the fires he sets. Once I do that, I'll help you put him away.”

She finished her coffee and set the cup down on the table. She counted to ten to calm herself.

“What do you have planned for today? Unless it really conflicts, I'd like to go to the fire scenes, but I'm not pig-headed enough to go alone. Can you get someone to come with me?” She didn't want to ask him directly. She might be reading too much into his concern.

“I'll take you myself; I am supposed to be your partner, remember?” He spoke as if it were a given and she could tell he was offended that she had thought otherwise.

“What I'd like to do first is go to the station, so that you can review the evidence,” he continued. “We need to introduce you to Lynette and get you logged in. Then, if you like, we can go by the fire scene from last night, but I doubt we'll find much; afterwards, we can check out Duffy's Garage. I'll treat you to pizza before we come back for an early night. I know I need sleep; I assume you do too.”

“Sounds like a plan; I noticed that you aren't limping as much today; I take it your leg is better?” When she saw the look on his face, Alexis regretted her question.
Nosy Nelly, now look what you've done,
she thought.

There was pain there, lots of pain, and pain was something that she understood.

Jake smiled ruefully. He had not expected to have to bare his soul quite so soon. He could tell her about the leg at least; the rest he would keep to himself a while longer.

“I guess turnaround is fair play,” he said. “You shared your secrets; I should be willing to do the same.” He finished his coffee and put the cup on the table.

“I was asked by the government to go to Afghanistan to help train the Afghani police force in profiling techniques. I wanted to do something to help. When I shipped out, my brother David decided to go as well; he's always looked out for me. He's an orthopedic surgeon. He's a member of a team of doctors who go where they're needed. He's still in Kandahar, but he hopes to be back before Christmas.” He paused.

It would be a good Christmas with everyone home this year. He saw Alexis looking at him expectantly and resumed his story.