All that planning for nothing. He picked through the rubble in broad daylight now that the fire investigators had finished digging around at the scene and had packed up their tools and gone home.
They wouldn’t be able to track him, anyway. He was too good at this. His methods too methodical. That new fire chief wouldn’t have some smug quote to say about his work like he had on the newspaper’s website. Though he was dying to know what mistake had been made at that scene, he knew better than to ask too many questions. He couldn’t risk looking curious, not after the little mishap with his car.
What that Prentiss guy had said was probably bullshit, anyway. The police had nothing. Just like with all the other fires.
This time was supposed to be different, though. Perfection. Like the ones on the big screen. Sure, the flames had been sweet. Eventually. After a slow start though linseed oil played a part in that. It was supposed to delay the burn. Not make itthatslow.
Only when it took off like Independence Day, there was no crowd for the oohs and aahs. And, damn it, he deserved some of those. Instead, it had been like a cherry bomb soaked in the bathtub. A fricking dud. Hell, if the neighbors hadn’t worried that the fire would eventually reach their properties, they probably wouldn’t have called it in at all.
He kicked at the pile of muck with his boot, but there was nothing solid enough for even a good thunk or a stubbed toe. Just messy, smelly sludge. At this moment, he would have appreciated the pain.
Now he would have to start over again. Thinking. Planning. For something bigger, he hoped. Better. Closer to town. Maybe with casualties. Yes, that sounded better. That would teach certain people for not giving him or his work its proper due. It took an awful lot to make a headline these days in Mount Isabel. But he would show them that he still could, and he had a good idea where to do it.
Chapter 15
Early Sunday afternoon, Rachel pulled up the long driveway to the two-story house. She parked beneath the netless basketball hoop, which had become just a turnaround for cars in recent years. Then she took a long look at the house. Its beige aluminum siding above the brick had a yellow cast now. The shingles at the edge of the roof had begun to curl.
Like she had a dozen times during her drive over, she glanced in the rearview mirror. Not a single white SUV in sight. But if she didn’t stop looking over her shoulder, she’d never make it through this information-finding mission. She shouldn’t have lied to Mick about waiting until Monday to look for answers in her dad’s home, but some things a gal had to do alone. Visiting all the ghosts inside her parents’ place was one of them.
She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been inside the house in the past seven months. Okay, she needed a few extra fingers, but most of the stops had involved helping an inebriated Riley to his room after she’d rolled him out of Lou’s Corner Pub. On those occasions, she’d been too busy to think about how different the place was without their father there. Now his absence would swallow her whole.
After taking a few deep breaths for courage, she climbed out of the minivan and stomped through the mixture of snow and slush to the steps. From the zipper pocket of her purse, she pulled out the spare key. Her hand trembled as she slid it into the dead bolt.
Yes, they’d built some happy memories there with the twins, but there were still rooms she couldn’t enter without thinking about her mom. Now her dad’s presence would fill all of them as well.
As she started to turn the key, her phone buzzed. She dug around in her purse’s main compartment and pulled out her cell. Mick’s name appeared on the screen. She considered letting it go to voice mail, but from what she’d already learned about him, she knew he’d only call again. With a sigh, she tapped the screen to answer.
“Hi, Mick.” She coughed into her sleeve and then tried again. “Have you enjoyed your day off? Sorry you lost an hour of it with the whole ‘spring forward’ thing.”
He chuckled into the line. “Doing great. Just driving around and trying to get to know my new community better. How about you? You’re not coming down with anything, are you?”
“I’m fine.” But she couldn’t resist clearing her throat. “All that dry air must be getting to me.”
“Why? Are you outside?”
Rachel shuffled her feet on the step and pulled her arms closer to her body before looking again over her shoulder. Still, no one was there. “Um, I’m—”
“Standing on the back step at your dad’s house?”
“What?” She jerked her head back and forth, looking for him. “How do you—”
“Know that you’re there? I’m good at guessing. Even better at reading people.”
Just then, something squeaked near her dad’s massive, detached garage, causing the thuds of her heartbeat to trample over each other. The side door popped open with another creak, and Mick stepped outside, his coat unzipped over his regular zipper hoodie. He pulled his cell away from his ear, tapped the screen to end the call and strode toward her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she pulled out the key. “Are you stalking me? Because I don’t appreciate—”
He shook his head when she reached the bottom of the steps, but she could tell from his pinched expression that her words had hit their mark. Good enough for him. He’d scared the crap out of her.
Mick must have remembered he was angry as his jaw flexed, his eyes narrowing.
“I knew you wouldn’t wait until Monday to search here. And that you’d come here without me even after we’d agreed to collaborate. You might be willing to put yourself—and your girls—at risk by being here, but I’m not. I’m going to keep my end of the bargain.”
“There’s only one problem with your premise. Do you see Carly and Carissa anywhere?”
He pointed to the minivan in the drive.
“They’re not in there, either.”
