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“Feel free to look around for it, and I hope you are not criticizing the fire department.” The other man stomped off and shouted something to someone in the hall, and with some reluctance, Ellie forced herself to really look at the body.

Not fun, but necessary.

It was familiar because of the unnaturally crossed arms, the same ghastly smile, the clothing either melted onto the body or burned away, but the suggestion of a human form was much more pronounced. “I’m going to defer to the ME’s office, but I’d say this one didn’t burn as hot,” Ellie ventured, staring at the body but not touching anything. Technicians were starting to process the scene, and quite frankly, she was close enough.

“The victim isn’t as crispy,” Santiago agreed, crouching down to inspect the floor. “Less carpet burned, in general the place not as trashed. There are still pictures on the walls.”

“Apartment.” She glanced around. “No sprinkler system because this is an older building, but neighbors who not only notice the smell of smoke but have a vested interest in calling in a possible fire right away. It just was put out quicker. What’s his pattern?”

Santiago rose. His blond curls looked liquid in the light now coming in through the broken windows as the sun rose. “Yeah, I agree. It didn’t burn nearly as long.”

“Why was this one at night?”

“I’m wondering that too. The other was in the middle of the day. Considering the placing of the victim on the table, it surprises me the progression of the crime would vary.”

That was actually a pretty intuitive insight, but she shook her head. “I don’t think the progression varied as much as the location. House to apartment. Why?”

“That is an interesting question. And who the hell is she? According to the frantic old guy who lives next door, he woke up to the smell of smoke. He swears he was just asleep before that and heard nothing.”

It was true. His consternation and horror matched pretty much how the Tobiases had reacted. They would look into him, of course, but now that there was a pattern of sorts emerging, Ellie was trying to get a feel for who they might be looking for.

“It took a lot of nerve to carry the body up here. The hour was helpful, but someone still could have been coming in late and seen him. He had to break in; what if the occupant of the apartment woke up … why’d he choose this location?”

“Big balls,” Santiago agreed. Glancing at the warped orange countertops, singed black now, and the debris all over the floor, he carefully stepped around what appeared to once be a plastic chair but was now just a mass on the floor, and looked around the kitchen. “The place needed updating. So did the Tobias house.”

“Lots of homes and apartments do. Ever watch HGTV?” She let her gaze rove over the destruction. “Is that relevant? I can’t see how. Not yet anyway. What’s the connection?”

“There’s the body on the table,” he pointed out, scouring the room, and—if it was a little grudgingly admitted—she had to acknowledge he was completely professional on the scene, letting the CSI unit work, allowing the medical examiner on call latitude with deference. “Let’s not skip over the fire. This is new to me but I am starting to think if I wanted to kill someone, I might just decide this is the way to go. No need to tidy up after yourself; big hoses and men in rubber boots will take care of it.”

“Is covering up evidence the reason to do it this way?” Ellie surveyed the damage, looked again at the body, and an inward chill of apprehension went through her. “If so, we need to find out what this guy has to hide.”

Chapter 10

It really isn’t about control.

Quite the opposite. This sounds strange, but it is about
not
having control and a different thrill ride altogether. I know it, and I don’t fight it.

I stood on the street and watched the fray; fire trucks and police cars and people standing around talking in subdued voices …

A mistake, of course. Visiting the scene of the crime. In this day and age, detectives recognize that it happens and look for it, so everyone would be scrutinized at some point, and I’d be up for inspection, then either dismissed or considered. I could make an excuse, but still it was a risk.

It seduced me.

I wanted to be there. To see the smoke still oozing from the rooftop, to imagine the damage inside, the beauty of it all. The sun was coming up, illuminating the rooftop, tinting the haze red like a veneer of blood.

*   *   *

Carl slid into
the booth.

The two people sitting across from him looked tired. Maybe he did too. His contact in homicide had called him right after the news broke about the second murder and fire. Santiago he knew. They’d crossed paths often enough. MacIntosh was different. Honey blond hair, fairly young, with maybe a hint of smudged mascara around her eyes, though her gaze was very direct. Rachel would envy her figure, which seemed naturally trim, but then again, he liked curvy women.

Still only early morning. Everyone around was drinking coffee and eating pancakes and scrambled eggs. He asked for a decaf and a cinnamon roll and looked at his two companions in question.

“A water.” MacIntosh was cool and professional. “Otherwise, I’m fine.”

“Denver omelet,” Santiago said in his nonchalant voice. “Bacon instead of sausage and I sure could use some good coffee. Just black.”

At that point Carl decided two things. Neither of them liked sitting next to each other on the opposite side of the booth. The discomfort could be for any number of reasons, but none of those reasons were good between two partners.

The second was that he thought they both were probably good cops. He’d been on the force long enough to know the difference. Hungry but not crazy—he’d met a few crazy ones—and even at six in the morning they looked at him with straight inquiry in their eyes.

Well, he could satisfy their curiosity over his call but their personal differences were their own problem.

The bustle around them was loud enough he felt comfortable saying in an ordinary voice, “Five years ago, as far as I know, your perp probably took his first lap in the pool. Both Metzger and I remembered it and that is why I’m here. I was homicide then, and it was my case.”

“Five years?” Ellie MacIntosh looked incredulous. Her eyes were a unique hazel, the green brilliant behind the gold flecks. She folded her arms on the table. “Okay, we appreciate this. Tell us why you think the cases are connected.”

That was easy enough. “The table and the arson.”

“Well, shit the bed Fred,” Santiago muttered, his shoulders settled against the vinyl padding of the booth. “This is interesting. He send you?”

“Metzger? Not specifically. But he encouraged me to pass it along. We talked about it when you had the first victim. It struck a chord with both of us even though it was a little different. Male victim, his own house, but the table … Now I’m thinking maybe you have the same problem I had five years ago. Three tables and three burned bodies? Can that be a coincidence?”

“Okay.” Jason Santiago looked at him without particular resentment but he wasn’t friendly either. “What do you have to tell us about that first case? As long as you keep in mind this is our investigation, I am willing to listen to whatever you have to say.”

Well, they weren’t exactly strangers so he knew that much about his colleague. Santiago was no punches pulled, not ever.

Fine.

“Tell us.” MacIntosh was a little intense herself, her gaze direct. “There was a table?”

He nodded. “It’s a cold case now. Five years cold. Still, the body on the table and the burned house? I am not sure how to put this exactly; both of you are police officers so maybe you’ll understand I just had the feeling he wasn’t done back then. This job is driven a lot by instinct and hunches. My hunch then was that whoever committed that crime hadn’t done all he wanted to do. It seems to me that one was dead on.”

“Ah, fuck me.” Santiago ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair.

“No thanks.” Carl grinned briefly, but it faded. “Look, this is all yours, but I’d like a hand in just because he used to be mine. Just keep me informed, okay? If this is the same perp, he once belonged to me and I never caught him. Here’s the file with all my notes. I hope it helps.”

His cinnamon roll arrived just as he pushed the paperwork with his fingertips toward MacIntosh.

*   *   *

Bryce had made
coffee. He’d made eggs too, scrambled lightly, like Ellie usually preferred, and toasted a couple of bagels. It was convenient he worked at home, and often as not, by his own admission he forgot to eat breakfast anyway, so this was probably good for both of them.

He scooped eggs out of the pan. “Most important meal of the day.”

It was midmorning and she had been gone for hours. When he slid the plate of food in front of her, Ellie said, “I’m starving, but…”

“Bad, huh?”

“Bad,” she confirmed, remembering the apartment. She was still a little queasy. It wasn’t at all easy to dismiss.

“If it goes cold, we can warm it up or I can make more.” He took a forkful and said nothing else. The eggs were light and fluffy, and the coffee was fresh, so no doubt it all tasted good, but he hadn’t had her morning. She always talked about cases eventually, but it needed to sink into her skin, her soul, her psyche.

She took a sip of coffee and then looked at the wall. She knew there were unattractive shadows under her eyes. A light jacket that no one could possibly wear in this heat hung over the back of her chair, but it hardly matched the rest of her clothing. She could have showered back at her condo, but somehow it had seemed natural to go back to his house.

The night before had been somehow … different when they’d made love. There had been an urgency when Bryce had undressed her, his hands busy, his hungry mouth on hers in a kiss that was not like his usual almost gentle style, and he’d definitely been less than selfish in making sure she’d enjoyed every minute, which wasn’t new exactly—in bed they’d been good together from that very first time—but something had changed and she not only wasn’t sure just what that might be, but at a loss as to how to ask the question.

For the life if her, she couldn’t figure out to how to
phrase
the question. She wasn’t even sure she
wanted
to ask.
So, the new position, what is that all about
 …

No, that didn’t work. Fantastic sex. Why even question that?

“I need to go back as soon as they’ve cleared the scene.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, I guess.” He took another bite, leaning his elbows on the antique round table he’d bought one afternoon at a garage sale he’d dragged her to—her dad had been like that, always off looking through antique shops and going to estate auctions. Bryce had been convinced at the time it was walnut—she remembered his enthusiasm—and he was right as it turned out, for once he’d paid to have it refinished, it was a true beauty with ornate legs and an inlaid top that had been almost invisible under the scratches and water damage. The kitchen windows were set in an octagonal design and boasted a view of a very private backyard with mature trees and terraced flower beds full of perennials planted by the previous owner. It was a nice place to sit.

The minute she’d hit the door she’d gone straight to the shower and dropped her clothes in the laundry room, so at the moment she wore one of his old T-shirts.

She took a bite of eggs and answered the question. “We need to start interviewing witnesses. It was impossible until the tenants were allowed to go back into the building and considering the time of night when they were evacuated, some of them went to stay with friends or family.” The eggs were delicious and she took another forkful with more enthusiasm. “This is the exact same scenario as the last one, which was only two days ago. Maybe the ME’s office will be able to help us, but so far we really just don’t have much. It isn’t their fault, but let’s face it, you were right when you pointed it out, the fire department obliterates the evidence.”

“Clever.”

Ellie picked up her bagel, stared at it as if she didn’t know what it was, and set it down again. “I know. Or I mean, I know
that,
I just don’t know what it is. What
this
is.”

Bryce put his spoon in his coffee and stirred. “This is exactly your kind of case, you know.”

Her gaze flashed up to look at him. Her hands cradled her coffee cup. Was it really only ten o’clock? “Meaning … what?”

His grin was crooked. “I wish I didn’t know firsthand, but I can say with some measure of authority that you won’t stop until you catch him. The case last year … I can’t say I enjoyed being the prime suspect in a serial murder investigation, but I was reassured somewhat at the time that you were smart enough to figure out I didn’t do it and I didn’t even really know you then.”

That served to lighten the mood actually. Her mouth twitched into a rare smile. “Somewhat?”

He shrugged, telling her he hadn’t been entirely positive he wasn’t going to be nailed as Wisconsin’s next notorious killer, even if he wasn’t guilty of it, despite how good at her job she might be. “It was touch and go there for a while, admit it. But I admit my faith in you was about all the hope I had. Everyone else was ready to hang me. So, why is this going down so fast?”

That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it?

“I don’t know.” She ate slowly in small bites. “It has to mean something. We have video of the crowd. It’s standard now. After we get through with the initial questioning, half the department is going to watch it. Who knows, we might turn something up.”

“Two bodies and one suicide. I’d say the
entire
department should watch it. Three dead in three days?”

She set down her fork. Miracle of miracle, after what she’d seen just a few hours ago, her plate was empty.

Ellie rose, dusting off her hands. When had she devoured that last bit of her bagel? She wasn’t sure, but she was positive it was good for her. “That might not be a bad call, but these aren’t our only homicides and I’m new. I don’t get to make those kinds of decisions.”