“Thanks. I needed your name since I’ll be reporting your actions to your boss at the Bureau.”
What? She was reporting him? She was the one who should be—
A siren screamed on. No, no, it can’t get away. “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” He broke into a run. No, don’t shut that door—“Wait!” The EMT glanced back. “I’m coming with you.” He dug out his mangled ID, waved it at the guy, then jumped inside.
As the door slammed shut behind him, Kenton tossed a hard grin at the man he suspected to be Louis Jerome, informer extraordinaire. “You didn’t think I’d miss our meeting, did you?”
That stopped the screaming.
“Uh, sir, you need to sit back—”
He shook his head, hard, and the EMT quieted. “Tell me what’s going on, Jerome. Tell me what’s happening with these fires, tell me why you called—”
“N-name’s… not… Jerome.” Hoarse. Either from the fire or from the screaming. “Larry. Larry… Powell. Don’t know… who the… fuck you are.”
Kenton’s body tensed. The words didn’t sound like a lie. Those eyes didn’t look like the guy was lying either. After so many years of tracking criminals, Kenton was good at finding the lies.
Kenton reached for his phone, but his pocket was empty. He must have dropped it during the fall. Dammit. He needed to run a check on this guy, Larry Powell.
Because if this wasn’t his informant…
Then where’s Jerome?
“Prick.” Lora Spade watched the ambulance pull away in a flash of lights and shook her head. Those Bureau boys always thought they ruled the world.
God’s gift.
Okay, yeah, he had been hot, and not just because of the flames around him.
But still… a prick.
She glanced back at the building. They’d contained the fire, a damn good thing. In this part of Charlottesville, Virginia, the buildings were slammed right next to each other. The situation could have gone bad, too quickly.
“Spade!” Chief Frank Garrison roared her name. “Spade, get over here!”
The man rarely bothered using his radio. After all, why bother? Despite twenty-plus years of fighting fires, his lungs were plenty strong enough for good yells.
She hightailed it toward him. He’d stationed himself near the front of the smoking building, and his hands were in hamlike fists on his hips. A pose that she knew meant trouble.
“We got a damn body.” He spat on the ground. He did that when he was upset. She’d learned to watch her toes around him. “Or what’s left of one.”
Lora sucked in a sharp breath. A victim? But they’d done a primary and secondary sweep, they’d searched all possible rooms—and gotten the other two men out.
She adjusted her gear and followed the captain inside. Her boots pressed into the puddles on the floor and sank into the ash.
They went down two winding hallways and up one flight of stairs to the back of the building. Place was supposed to be empty. Giant “No Trespassing” signs were posted at the front. The building had been condemned.
But three victims had been inside.
Her heart slammed into her ribs and bile rose in her throat. Three victims.
And they’d only gotten two out.
Then she saw the door, or what was left of it. The fire had burned up most of the wood, and she could see the man, slumped inside.
Blisters and burns covered his body, but…
The smoke got to him first. The freaking unbelievable heat. Because the wounds weren’t enough to kill him.
What the hell? She inched closer. The guy was in some kind of closet. Two feet by four feet, why was he—
Then she saw the padlock. On the outside of the charred remains of the door. Still hanging on, despite the fire.
Locked in.
Left to die.
Her eyes met the captain’s, and she read the dark knowledge there.
Another one.
Dammit.
The poor bastard never had a chance.
He liked to watch the fire. When it danced, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Sensual, like a lover.
The firefighters had battled his blaze with all their strength. But, in the end, the fire had won—and claimed her prize.
And, to make things interesting, he’d even gotten a bonus during the show. Two bonuses, really. Two more victims.
Like the fool who’d rushed in… He hadn’t counted on that. He’d underestimated the man.
But he’d been saved. So had the addict.
Not that they mattered. They weren’t really part of the game.
Well, not yet.
But they’d tasted the fire tonight. They wouldn’t soon forget that taste.
After all, you never forgot your first.
The smoke was in the wind. When he opened his mouth, he tasted it on his tongue.
She came out then. Jerking off her helmet. Pacing back and forth too quickly.
Ah, she found my body.
Lora Spade understood the game. Perhaps better than anyone else. She knew what he was doing.
Did she know why?
Tonight, the firefighters had lost. They hadn’t searched hard enough. Hadn’t responded fast enough.
The dead… he was on their hands. Her hands.
More bodies would come. Because when you fought the fire, you learned, fast, that the fire fought back.
CHAPTER Two
Lora curled her fingers around her offering, glanced to the left, the right, then crept down the long, white hallway.
Hate this place. She could already smell the death hanging in the air. Every step she took just brought her closer and closer to the dead, and she didn’t want to be there.
But sometimes a girl had to pony up.
The coroner’s office waited for her, just a few feet away. She could too easily remember the last time she’d been in that office. A little over six months ago. But then, she’d been numb. No pain. No fear.
That sweet numbness hadn’t lasted nearly long enough.
Just past the funeral, then the agony had hit.
“What do you mean, the guy didn’t die from smoke inhalation? He was in a burning building, for Christ’s sake.”
Ah, wait. She knew that voice. Lora paused outside the door, a door that Heather had conveniently left partially open.
“There was no smoke in the victim’s lungs.”
Lora’s fingers snaked inside the box. Curled around the delicious gift.
“No smoke—that means he—”
“Died before the fire began. See, if you look here…”
Lora pulled out her treat. Took a few fast bites.