“I’m not even here,” David replied. “How could I get hit?”
The man appeared puzzled for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose not. That would be tough, wouldn’t it?”
“What did you see?”
The man told him, and he had seen plenty. He told David how it all started shortly after that Ford Bronco down the street showed up. He told him about the man who got out—some homeless-looking mountain man. Walked right into Faye’s place like he owned it.
“Did Faye Mauck have a kid?”
“I never saw one, but she kept to herself, mostly.”
They had learnedFaye Mauckwas the latest in a long string of identities used by Cammie Brotherton in the two decades she’d been running. Most likely, that’s the name that would appear on her tombstone, if her body ended up in a marked grave. David followed the man’s gaze to the gray Ford parked a half block before 803, partially on the street, partially on the sidewalk.
Hobson.
Following instructions, like a good little soldier.
David nodded at one of the crew and pointed at the Bronco. “Take whatever’s inside, then wash it like the others.” The man understood, moving quickly.
He returned his focus back on the nosy neighbor in the tank top. “You started all these fires, right?”
“I started the fires?”
“Yep. The cars, the house. All you. You like fire. You started them all. Killed these people, too.”
“Okay. I guess I did.”
“When the police arrive, you’re going to tell them what you did, how much you enjoyed it. Then, as soon as you finish, after they write it all down, you know what you’re going to do next?”
The man’s face was blank.
“You’re going to walk right into that burning house and sit down in the living room. Get right up in the thick of it and pop a squat,” David told him. “You like fire.”
“Okay. I like fire.”
“Before that, though, whenIleave,” David went on, “I want you to shoot that little gun of yours—shoot the bodies in the SUV, get every shot off, then toss the gun in the bushes over there. Not too deep, though. We don’t want to make this hard on the locals.”
“That wouldn’t be nice.”
“No, sir, it wouldn’t.”
David saw a woman peeking out from behind the curtain of an upstairs room next door. He waved at her. It didn’t matter if she saw him. Nobody would believe her. He turned back to the man in the tank top. “One other thing.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think I’m a good-looking guy?”
The man tilted his head, his stringy hair catching the night breeze. “You might be the ugliest man I’ve ever met.”
“You’re not very smart, are you?”
“No, not really.”
“I’m the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.”
The man considered this, then said, “Yeah, I guess you are.”
David left him there, standing in the street, before climbing into the back seat of the middle Ford Expedition beside Latrese Oliver. She was picking at a flakey black spot on her bad arm. He shook his head and looked back out the window as they began to pull away. “There’s a room in the house, freshly painted pink. We found a doll.”
