[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
when he went out for a paper and a jog in the park. Dogging his heels, they’d peppered
him with questions he didn’t want to acknowledge and sometimes couldn’t answer.
A reporter holding a pad and pencil jumped right into Jack’s path as he left his car.
“Mr. Dillon, can you tell us anything about the arson fires here in Clifton?”
Jack continued walking. “First of all, you asked me that question yesterday. Second,
I’m not privy to that information.”
Before the obnoxious, round man could step in front of Jack, Hank blocked the guy
from entering the firehouse. “Sorry, restricted area.”
Frowning, Jack continued into the firehouse. Chief Hallam slapped him on the back.
“It seems like you’ve got a fine mess here, Dillon.”
Although the tone of the Chief’s voice remained calm and even, Jack saw tension in
the man’s eyes. He stopped at the stairs leading up to the dorm. “Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. They’re vultures looking for a place to land and feed. Ignore
them and they’ll eventually go away when you don’t throw them any carrion.”
Jack grimaced. “Lovely picture.”
The Chief shrugged. “It’s worked before when we’ve had a reporter salivating
around the station.”
Suddenly he wondered if the Chief counted Autumn among the hovering creatures.
He hoped not. She’d been more than professional when she’d visited the station. He
recalled the soft, sexy tone in her voice as she’d thanked him for the flowers. An ache
started in his gut. Sure, she would go with him to Billings, but she couldn’t promise him
anything else.
“Jack?”
His attention snapped back to the Chief. “Sorry, sir.”
“No sweat, Dillon. There’s a meeting in the conference room in ten minutes. The fire
marshal gave me some information I think you guys should know about recent fires.”
Ten minutes later, Jack, Hank, Ray and other firefighters sequestered themselves in
the small conference room. A few off-duty firefighters also attended.
“This is weird,” Hank said to Jack as he settled into a hard plastic chair next to his
friend. “The fire marshal doesn’t do things this way.”
Jack frowned. “He does if he has bad news.”
Fire Marshal Harvard Jameson came to the front of the crowd. Instead of using the
podium, he paced. “We have information on this string of arson fires that you all need to
know now. Normally I’d keep a lid on this information, but leads are slim. At this point,
it doesn’t hurt to give you particulars, but its close hold. None of what I tell you should
leave this room. That means no spouses, girlfriends, or other friends and family should
hear this. Got it?”
After a chorus of agreement and head nodding, Jameson continued. “The Arson
Detection Team used Archie, our ignitable liquid detecting canine, to comb all the
suspicious fires. In each case, Archie was used to find any indication of gasoline,
kerosene, odorless lamp oil, lacquer thinner and lighter fluid. Everything indicates this
arsonist is using different methods to start every fire. Obviously that’s unusual, but we
think this arsonist is making a statement. Showing us he can escape detection. The
number of arson-related fires in this town has risen to six in the last month and a half.
The best evidence we have for arson occurred at the Top O’ the Morning Club. We know
that was caused by a Molotov cocktail tossed through a bathroom window and through a
storage room window nearby. In the case of the warehouse fires, we suspect the same. At
this time, we don’t have fingerprints that are useable. We also don’t know if the arsonist
or arsonists are local. Police have checked local hotels for suspicious activity, but nothing
unusual has been reported.”
The fire marshal reached for his coffee mug and took a sip before continuing. “We
have questioned suspects, but nothing conclusive has been drawn from those interviews.
We do know, however, that the fires are somewhat sloppy. So we don’t think the person
or persons starting the fires are of the super-intelligent variety. They do have enough
brains not to leave significant evidence, so I’ll give them that. As you know, investigating
arson can take months of meticulous work. We’re hoping you keep your eyes open and
your ears to the ground. If another fire comes up, be sure you tell us if you see anything
that could help the investigation. Questions?”
The room erupted in a buzz of conversation. The fire chief shushed everyone with a
look and a call for quiet.
Jack had one question, motivated by his suspicions of the Mafia Boys. “It sounds
like you’re convinced there are two suspects?”
Jameson nodded, his eyes filled with regret. “Through reconstruction, burn patterns,
and where the heat center was located, we believe these fires were not all started by the
same person. The first few fires have the same pattern. Right after the fire at the
nightclub, though, the pattern changes.”
“You think they’re working together?” Jack asked.
The fire marshal took a deep breath. “It’s possible, but not one hundred percent
confirmed. So, gentlemen, it looks like we have double trouble.”
* * * *
Elliott walked out of his office, dark shadows under his eyes marring his usually
bright and attentive appearance. Today he looked wary and fatigued. “Got a minute,
Autumn?”
“Sure.” She grabbed a notepad and followed him into his inner sanctum. “What’s
up?”
“We need more than the last story you wrote up on Dillon.” Elliott closed the door
and they sat down. “Besides, I thought your interview with him came across a little too
soft soap.”
Surprised and irritated, she leaned forward in her chair. “I wrote the story last week.
If you had a problem with it then—”
“I know.” He held up one hand. “I’ll take the heat for that. But we need to keep new
water running under the bridge.”
Realizing the truth of his words, she eased back into her chair. She took a deep
breath to relax her tense muscles.
“Don’t you think we’ve squeezed as much out of this firefighter thing as we can?”
Elliott’s eyes burned with new fervor. “No. We can still work this.”
“Why?” She put her hands up. “Isn’t this town more interesting than that? Clifton
may be a very small city, but it has character and life beyond the fire department.”
He let out a humorless bark of laughter. “Clifton is one boring, tame place most of
the time and you know it. You left it years ago.”
An ache started in her right temple, and she unclenched her jaw. “I left because my
family was dead and there was nothing left for me here. I’d had about all the excitement I
could take.”
“So why did you come back?” His question came out soft.
“Running from a fresh pain back to an old one. I don’t know. What does that have to
do with the content of the Clifton Times?” Warming to her subject, she leaned on his
desk. “We can do better than this, Elliott. All it takes is imagination.” [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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when he went out for a paper and a jog in the park. Dogging his heels, they’d peppered
him with questions he didn’t want to acknowledge and sometimes couldn’t answer.
A reporter holding a pad and pencil jumped right into Jack’s path as he left his car.
“Mr. Dillon, can you tell us anything about the arson fires here in Clifton?”
Jack continued walking. “First of all, you asked me that question yesterday. Second,
I’m not privy to that information.”
Before the obnoxious, round man could step in front of Jack, Hank blocked the guy
from entering the firehouse. “Sorry, restricted area.”
Frowning, Jack continued into the firehouse. Chief Hallam slapped him on the back.
“It seems like you’ve got a fine mess here, Dillon.”
Although the tone of the Chief’s voice remained calm and even, Jack saw tension in
the man’s eyes. He stopped at the stairs leading up to the dorm. “Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. They’re vultures looking for a place to land and feed. Ignore
them and they’ll eventually go away when you don’t throw them any carrion.”
Jack grimaced. “Lovely picture.”
The Chief shrugged. “It’s worked before when we’ve had a reporter salivating
around the station.”
Suddenly he wondered if the Chief counted Autumn among the hovering creatures.
He hoped not. She’d been more than professional when she’d visited the station. He
recalled the soft, sexy tone in her voice as she’d thanked him for the flowers. An ache
started in his gut. Sure, she would go with him to Billings, but she couldn’t promise him
anything else.
“Jack?”
His attention snapped back to the Chief. “Sorry, sir.”
“No sweat, Dillon. There’s a meeting in the conference room in ten minutes. The fire
marshal gave me some information I think you guys should know about recent fires.”
Ten minutes later, Jack, Hank, Ray and other firefighters sequestered themselves in
the small conference room. A few off-duty firefighters also attended.
“This is weird,” Hank said to Jack as he settled into a hard plastic chair next to his
friend. “The fire marshal doesn’t do things this way.”
Jack frowned. “He does if he has bad news.”
Fire Marshal Harvard Jameson came to the front of the crowd. Instead of using the
podium, he paced. “We have information on this string of arson fires that you all need to
know now. Normally I’d keep a lid on this information, but leads are slim. At this point,
it doesn’t hurt to give you particulars, but its close hold. None of what I tell you should
leave this room. That means no spouses, girlfriends, or other friends and family should
hear this. Got it?”
After a chorus of agreement and head nodding, Jameson continued. “The Arson
Detection Team used Archie, our ignitable liquid detecting canine, to comb all the
suspicious fires. In each case, Archie was used to find any indication of gasoline,
kerosene, odorless lamp oil, lacquer thinner and lighter fluid. Everything indicates this
arsonist is using different methods to start every fire. Obviously that’s unusual, but we
think this arsonist is making a statement. Showing us he can escape detection. The
number of arson-related fires in this town has risen to six in the last month and a half.
The best evidence we have for arson occurred at the Top O’ the Morning Club. We know
that was caused by a Molotov cocktail tossed through a bathroom window and through a
storage room window nearby. In the case of the warehouse fires, we suspect the same. At
this time, we don’t have fingerprints that are useable. We also don’t know if the arsonist
or arsonists are local. Police have checked local hotels for suspicious activity, but nothing
unusual has been reported.”
The fire marshal reached for his coffee mug and took a sip before continuing. “We
have questioned suspects, but nothing conclusive has been drawn from those interviews.
We do know, however, that the fires are somewhat sloppy. So we don’t think the person
or persons starting the fires are of the super-intelligent variety. They do have enough
brains not to leave significant evidence, so I’ll give them that. As you know, investigating
arson can take months of meticulous work. We’re hoping you keep your eyes open and
your ears to the ground. If another fire comes up, be sure you tell us if you see anything
that could help the investigation. Questions?”
The room erupted in a buzz of conversation. The fire chief shushed everyone with a
look and a call for quiet.
Jack had one question, motivated by his suspicions of the Mafia Boys. “It sounds
like you’re convinced there are two suspects?”
Jameson nodded, his eyes filled with regret. “Through reconstruction, burn patterns,
and where the heat center was located, we believe these fires were not all started by the
same person. The first few fires have the same pattern. Right after the fire at the
nightclub, though, the pattern changes.”
“You think they’re working together?” Jack asked.
The fire marshal took a deep breath. “It’s possible, but not one hundred percent
confirmed. So, gentlemen, it looks like we have double trouble.”
* * * *
Elliott walked out of his office, dark shadows under his eyes marring his usually
bright and attentive appearance. Today he looked wary and fatigued. “Got a minute,
Autumn?”
“Sure.” She grabbed a notepad and followed him into his inner sanctum. “What’s
up?”
“We need more than the last story you wrote up on Dillon.” Elliott closed the door
and they sat down. “Besides, I thought your interview with him came across a little too
soft soap.”
Surprised and irritated, she leaned forward in her chair. “I wrote the story last week.
If you had a problem with it then—”
“I know.” He held up one hand. “I’ll take the heat for that. But we need to keep new
water running under the bridge.”
Realizing the truth of his words, she eased back into her chair. She took a deep
breath to relax her tense muscles.
“Don’t you think we’ve squeezed as much out of this firefighter thing as we can?”
Elliott’s eyes burned with new fervor. “No. We can still work this.”
“Why?” She put her hands up. “Isn’t this town more interesting than that? Clifton
may be a very small city, but it has character and life beyond the fire department.”
He let out a humorless bark of laughter. “Clifton is one boring, tame place most of
the time and you know it. You left it years ago.”
An ache started in her right temple, and she unclenched her jaw. “I left because my
family was dead and there was nothing left for me here. I’d had about all the excitement I
could take.”
“So why did you come back?” His question came out soft.
“Running from a fresh pain back to an old one. I don’t know. What does that have to
do with the content of the Clifton Times?” Warming to her subject, she leaned on his
desk. “We can do better than this, Elliott. All it takes is imagination.” [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]