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“She didn’t tell you?” He set his elbows on the desk and looked her in the eyes. “I understand you ran into each other recently.”

Well, hell
. Of course Suzanne would play that card. It made it look like she was the one who had practiced duplicity. “In my defense, I really haven’t had the time yet to talk to you about it.”

He sat back, seemingly relaxed in his chair, but he wasn’t. She recognized that singular body language that meant he was tense. “I wish you’d told me.”

“I wish I’d had the opportunity, but someone is out there murdering people.”

Then he said it. Starkly. Without any preamble. “She wants a baby.”

Ellie could suddenly hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, the hum of the air conditioner, even, somehow, her own heart beating. She finally managed, “Excuse me?”

She’d sensed something off in the way Suzanne had acted, but then again, she didn’t know the woman very well.

“I know, strange, right?” He looked away, toward the window on the other side of the room. “We were married for five years and I was the one pushing for kids and now …
now,
she’s on board with it.”

It took some effort to modulate her tone but she said calmly enough, “You are divorced.”

“We certainly are.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

That was at least a relief. No equivocation there. Ellie relaxed a fraction but her shoulders still ached and probably would until this case was over. “Then what the hell?”

Oh, good grief, now she sounded like Santiago. Again.

“She’s suddenly developed a maternal instinct, I guess. She’s thirty-five, she told me, and she started to think about it. Realized she was getting older and she isn’t anxious to get married again.”

“So she thought of
you
?”

“Please don’t ask me to explain what she might be thinking. No one is more surprised than I am.”

In retrospect, the recent encounter and Suzanne’s attitude seemed to make sense. And she wondered if the air-conditioning wasn’t working because she was suddenly clammy and hot. “Oh, I see, with you as the father? Bryce, she’s a manipulative bitch.”

Hopefully her voice hadn’t risen to the point where someone else heard it.

“Do you think after our acrimonious divorce I’m going to agree?”

For some reason, his reasonable tone irritated her. “I don’t know. Why did you even talk to her about it? Let me guess, she’d like you to donate sperm the old-fashioned way? I really can’t believe this. What did you say?”

“Ellie,” he said with a quiet emphasis and a small curve of his lips. “What, in your capacity as a detective who makes a living analyzing other people and their possible motivations and actions, do you think I would say?”

It stopped her.

This felt a little bit like a defining moment, and she was not sure she was in the mood to deal with it.

Not now, for God’s sake.

On the other hand, this was his life. Maybe
their
life.

She stared at her hands splayed on the blotter and contemplated the answer without apology. Then she said, “I think you would tell her to know you better than to think you’d father a child with someone that you did not have a serious relationship with any longer, and that your desire for children was based on a family ideal, not just a desire to procreate.”

Bryce rarely spoke before he thought it over, and she couldn’t decide if she liked that habit, or if it intimidated her in some way. After a moment, he didn’t precisely smile, but it was there in his eyes. “Thank you. Maybe we aren’t that wonderful about expressing our feelings, but it is possible we do understand each other more than we think we do.”

He just could have a point.

Still, she was angry. Not with him, but
for
him, and for herself too. “She just wanted the dad from MIT. Good genes and good looks. How calculating.”

He laughed then, open amusement in his eyes. “Am I allowed to be flattered?”

“By what? The invitation or my comment?”

“I don’t actually care much what Suzanne thinks. She forfeited that a long time ago.”

True enough. But still there was something in his expression …

He said carefully, “But I
do
care what you think. This is something we’ve never discussed.”

“What?” She was hedging, and he knew it from his demeanor, so she immediately interjected. “Children? I get it, sorry. I suppose I just don’t know.”

In the midst of life, we are in death
 …

The quote just floated into her mind, unbidden, but death was much more her provenance. He didn’t want to have a baby with Suzanne and she was relieved on an enlightening level, but they weren’t to that point where this was actually a viable discussion, were they?

Or maybe they were.

God, she knew he was serious. Was she? Yes, she was, but she didn’t know—

Her phone rang and she snatched it up off the table, grateful for the interruption. “MacIntosh.”

She listened for a minute or so, and then said, “I’ll be right there. Give me about five seconds.”

Chapter 24

The house was dark, quiet, the street wide as I remember it, the driveway cracked in that one certain spot that if you hit it just right with your skateboard it would stop dead and spill you on your face.

I have a scar to this day right above my eyebrow on the right side. I remember it clearly. Hitting the pavement, the pain, the blood …

It gave me pause.

I never paused.

They were looking for me, of course. They would be. I expected no less.

A certain voice whispered in my head that they should be looking for the creature, but I wasn’t sure he and I were the same. We’d been together a long time, but that didn’t mean we were blood brothers, joined irrevocably. I was, in fact, trying to be rid of him. To let him sink into the mire of the past and drown, the murky water filling his gasping lungs until he could no longer fight it and drift to the filthy bottom, landing there and rotting away in lonely obscurity.

What I admired was closure. Everything sewn up neat and tidy, the past addressed, the future certainly not assured—no one could say that ever, but the plan executed with precision.

Resolved? No.

The minute you think that, then a nightmare could walk in through your front door
.

It might even be me.

*   *   *

She was exactly
what they needed.

Jason felt the first real flicker of excitement that maybe, just maybe, this case was under control.

Well, that might be going too far.

“It is terribly hot out there.” His visitor dabbed at her face with a handkerchief. “Actually, it’s really only because of the weather I’ve been watching the news.” Mrs. Hamilton was probably in her late sixties, composed, attractive even despite the age lines, her gray hair neatly done in what he termed a housewife style, the bob brushing her lower jaw, her expression earnest. She wore pants that ended at midcalf and a brown blouse, and she carried a briefcase, which she pulled onto her lap and unzipped. Out of it she took a sheaf of papers. “I can’t promise I am correct about this, but I made a few notes for you.”

“Our job is to find out if you are correct or not. Don’t worry about that, ma’am.”

She nodded as if he’d said the right thing and set down her offering. “I realize a court order is probably required for this information, but I’m retired now, so what can they do if they find out? Fire me? Too late for that. It won’t be admissible in court, but it might point you in the right direction. I’d appreciate it if my name didn’t get mentioned, but if you must, then I suppose you must. I’m just an average citizen now with a tip that might or might not prove valuable.”

“We always try to keep sources as confidential as possible.” That was about the most he could promise until he understood exactly what she was offering.

“And I just walked through the doors of the police station to meet with you. I understand, but I get a sense of urgency from the news reports that really influenced me to do this.”

“We appreciate it,” he affirmed. He set the papers aside on a stack that seemed to grow ever taller and he couldn’t quite get through, no matter how hard he tried. “I’ll read these, and my partner will be here as soon as she can, but if you wouldn’t mind going over what we spoke about on the phone, I would really appreciate it.”

She inclined her head briefly, obviously not unfamiliar with the police. “I wouldn’t have called if I wasn’t willing to discuss it. Not the most pleasant topic ever, but if I can help, I will.”

“The kid’s name is Randy McNeely?” There was someone right now running him down with every method of intelligence they had at their fingertips, but Jason wanted to know he had it all exactly right.

“He’s hardly a kid now. He must be in his thirties, but yes.” She pointed at the top sheet she’d given him. “This is a record of when he was first placed, at least as handled by me in this city. Prior to that he lived with his grandmother until she died of a heart attack. He found her dead one afternoon after school and at that point, he was truly orphaned. That’s when he was passed over to me.”

Fine. Yeah, that sucked, but it didn’t send most people off to burn bodies in a series of places that at this time had no connection. If McNeely was it, he needed to
understand
.

“What happened to his parents?” He’d sift through all the paperwork later, but for now, a witness who seemed legitimate was like gold and she’d bothered to come in and was willing to talk. “What made you think of him?”

Lucy Hamilton looked at him in resigned acknowledgment that he understood to mean she didn’t really want to be there. “His parents had a farm about fifty miles from here. They died in a house fire. His mother had climbed up on the kitchen table, trying to get out the window, but the smoke was too much and she didn’t make it. Randy was already known for causing small problems … field fires, insignificant things … it could have been an accident; no one was sure, but there was speculation. He was just a child and the local fire department didn’t think the fire was set, but most of them were just volunteers, so it could be they missed it. No signs of arson were reported. Could just be a coincidence.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“I don’t know.”

Motherfucker, where is MacIntosh—

“I’m sorry.” Ellie interrupted his train of thought at just the right moment as she hurried over and yanked a chair from another desk. It was already fairly late, and although the station was never deserted, it was emptier now than during the bustle of the day. She sat down and extended her hand. “I’m Detective MacIntosh. I am not sure you realize how much we appreciate you coming in.”

“We have a connection between the fires and the table,” Jason told her grimly. He briefly explained and Ellie listened with her fine brows drawn slightly together.

“Do these notes list all the addresses and names of where he was placed?”

“Addresses, no.” Ms. Hamilton shook her head. “Good heavens, I couldn’t possibly remember. I had a lot of children to supervise while I was his caseworker. Keep in mind I first encountered him many years ago. By the time he was sixteen he was out of my hands and that was over fifteen years ago.”

“It’s interesting that you remembered about his mother.”

“Not really.” The former social worker tilted her head to the side and her eyes were bleak and distant suddenly, as if she were casting back. She said slowly, “Randy was memorable. Extremely bright academically, not prone to get into trouble, but very much a loner, and he had some interests that alarmed several of his foster parents to the point where they requested he be moved. Very quickly he figured that out, and though I’ve no doubt he held on to his little hobbies, he knew how to conceal them much better. Like I said, he was a clever child.”

“One of his hobbies being setting fires?” Ellie’s voice was sharp with interest and a hint of the excitement Jason was feeling as well.

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid to ask what the others were.”

“I can only go by what one of his unsuccessful placements told me, but he apparently was caught attending the funeral of someone he didn’t know. At the time he was still fairly young and the funeral director noticed he seemed to be there alone and called the school, which was nearby. He was truant and the description fit, so they called his caregivers. His explanation was that the picture of the lady in the paper reminded him of his grandmother.”

“That’s not exactly a hobby.” It wasn’t a secret that Jason had a bit of a rough past himself, and skipping school had once been one of his favorite pastimes.

“Well, not if you only do it once, Detective.” Her smile held no humor, and behind her spectacles, her eyes were grave. “He was caught again, a couple of months later, this time the deceased being a male, and as this was a different funeral home, the director didn’t know about the first incident and admitted he’d seen him in the mortuary before and thought it was odd. Needless to say, the people fostering him then refused to keep him. They had children of their own and it bothered them enough to request a transfer.”

“That’s a little creepy, but he wouldn’t be the first kid with a fascination with seeing a dead body.” Jason restlessly crossed his ankles and then uncrossed them as he pondered what she was telling them.

It was Ellie who pointed out, “Yeah, creepy maybe once, but not multiple times … that’s strange. Couple it with his parents dying in a fire and especially that his mother was found on the kitchen table and he’s definitely worth looking at.” She turned back to Mrs. Hamilton. “Any advice on how we can find him?”

“I’m afraid not, Detective MacIntosh. If you had any idea how many children have come through my office, not to mention the time passed, it is just impossible to keep track of them all. Last I knew he was with a family in Greendale. But once again, that was probably fifteen years ago.”