Fire Angel (8 page)

Touched by his thoughtfulness, reminiscent of the kindness he had shown her years ago, Alexis smiled, thanked him, and pulled on the tuque, wrapped the scarf around her neck, and put on the gloves. She felt warmer instantly. Jake had added a brown wool hat, scarf, and gloves to his own attire, as well as heavy-duty work boots. Alexis smiled. Obviously, he was no rookie at this and understood that stable footing was essential. She noticed that he had traded in his fancy walnut walking stick for a sturdier metal tripod one. She would ask what had happened to his leg the next time they had a moment; he had said something about being deployed earlier.

She and Jake climbed into the back of the large Hummer emblazoned with the Paradise Police Force logo.

“This is what I should have been driving; not that silly little sports car I picked up at the airport. I could have driven right over Bullwinkle in this,” she chuckled, hoping that the joke would ease the tension that had sprung up between them.

The police officer getting in behind the wheel laughed.

“So, you saw a moose on the way here, did you? They've been bad this year, but don't kid yourself; hitting anything that large at sixty miles an hour can be disastrous. A tractor-trailer driver died in a collision with a moose calf just last month.”

Chastised, Alexis turned to Jake and smiled weakly.

“From her description, Pierre, she met a full grown bull,” said Jake, squeezing her hand. “She was very lucky.”

She knew he, like her, was thinking not only of the moose but of the person who had witnessed the encounter. She relaxed, enjoying the feel of her hand in his. She was glad that the tension between them was gone. She wasn't quite sure what had made him so angry with her, or why she had reacted the way she had. If he really had been devastated when she disappeared; shouldn't he be glad to have her back?

Alexis sat back enjoying the feel of her hand in Jake's. She was not looking forward to her first trip into town, and would have preferred setting her own schedule, but sometimes fate stepped in. The lights of the town brightened the horizon.

Paradise claimed to be the oldest settled area in the district, dating back to the days of the French fur traders and explorers. Situated on the banks of the river, its founding fathers had hoped it would become a boom town, but those dreams had faded. Other locations, along larger, more navigable rivers with access from a number of different directions, had taken over instead.

Today, Alexis knew that the picturesque little town depended primarily on tourism for its survival. Located as close as it was to three provincial parks, its grocery stores, boutiques, and restaurants did a booming business in summer. With the recent resurgence of winter sports, specifically cross country and skate skiing, the town benefited from tourist dollars all year round.

“I don't know how they stand the noise,” said Jake referring to the sirens. “I'd go crazy if I had to listen to that every day.”

Surprised by the anxiety in his voice, Alexis looked at him. He was very pale, and sweating.

“Are you alright?” she whispered, concern evident in her voice.

“You have a problem with the dark,” he replied in the same low tone. “I have a problem with loud noises; you should see the way I come apart at firework displays.”

She reached into the front seat and tapped Constable Howard on the shoulder. “Is there any way we can dispense with the light and sound show? It's been a long day.”

“Sure. We're off the highway now.” The siren stopped and the flashing red, white, and blue lights moved to a steady glow.

“Thanks.”

Jake smiled weakly at her. She was pleased to see that his color was coming back.

“Thank you,” he said squeezing the fingers he had not released. “I owe you one.”

She laughed. “Don't worry; I'll probably collect.”

The Hummer rolled to a stop just outside the barrier that had been erected to hold back the crowds. Alexis counted four fire engines: two pump and ladder trucks, a turntable ladder apparatus, and an older model hook and ladder truck. Although thick black smoke seemed to pour out from everywhere, only one half of the building was afire. A sudden thought came to mind — had something gone wrong at Duffy's? Fire was unpredictable and in an environment such as a garage, the chances for error were huge.

Alexis recognized that the fire was clearly in its second stage and it would be a miracle if anyone were found alive in the structure now. The fire would continue to consume any oxygen it could find until there was none left, and then it would smolder until it either reignited or died completely.

The aerial ladder was deployed against one of the second floor windows while the firefighters waited for the go-ahead from the guys on the roof before breaking it to enter the second floor of the building. Until the roof was opened, any sudden and improper ventilation could result in either a flashover or a backdraft, both of which were deadly.

Once Alexis had time to get a good look at the building, she easily recognized it for what it was — a renovated elementary school, the one she herself had attended. If memory served, there were two floors of what had been classrooms — six on each level plus four student washrooms, two per floor. At the east end of the building an addition had housed the school offices, the teachers' lounge, and the gymnasium.

She turned to Jake as Pierre radioed their location to the dispatcher.

“How long has it been a shelter? I went to school here.”

“About a dozen years ago, they built a combined high school-elementary school on the other side of town and turned this into a boot camp for juveniles. Look at the windows — some of them are still barred. That probably didn't help those who are trapped inside, although those should be communal areas, not bedrooms or dorms. When the government shut down the program, the building sat vacant. About three years ago, the local Christian Council took over. Now, it's a shelter for runaways and victims of domestic abuse. It doesn't fit his profile, so it may not be our guy.”

Alexis got out of the Hummer. She followed Jake, watching him navigate the hoses and other paraphernalia that littered the street. He stopped next to a police car parked beside the fire marshal's yellow Ford. Farther down the street were more vehicles belonging to the officers who tried to control the crowd of onlookers. Over on the left, inside the police perimeter were three ambulances and an EMT truck. Paramedics were working on a half dozen people wrapped in blankets and loading them into the ambulances.

Alexis looked around at the crowd of spectators. She lifted her camera and took half a dozen photos. She sensed eyes on her; could it be her stalker? She closed her eyes and let her mind reach out in an effort to find the person staring at her. If it were the arsonist, the fire would connect them. Even if the Fire Angel had not set this fire, he would definitely be watching; a blaze this size would be too hard for him to resist. Whoever had set it would be close enough to feel the heat, smell it, and watch its flames. She sensed the connection coming at her from above.

Alexis turned towards the nearby buildings, those with the best view of the spectacle. There was a church with a steeple on the left that might fit the bill, as could any of the duplexes and three-floor apartment buildings across the street. Those roofs would provide an ideal vantage point — close enough to feel the heat, dark enough to provide the privacy needed. Whoever was watching her was on or in one of those. She thought she saw movement on the roof directly across the street, and shaded her eyes for a better look. She turned her camera towards the building, zooming in as best she could. Nothing! She would ask Jake to send some of the officers to check those areas for spectators.

She turned towards the fire, closed her eyes, and reached out to him. Yes, she could feel his presence as he gloated over his handiwork. She knew the moment he felt her in his mind; fear and anger replaced his elation. She sensed his surprise and sudden panic before he severed the connection.

Jake touched her arm to get her attention. He led her over to the two men standing beside one of the fire engines; one of the men wore a firefighter's uniform.

“Alexis, I'd like you to meet Lincoln Howard, the fire marshal, and this is Everett Lewis, our police chief.” She nodded.

Lincoln Howard was the first to shake her hand. The man, with a head-full of snow-white hair and a flushed complexion, reminded her of her own boss. He had a friendly smile, but the anguish that these unsolved crimes were creating for him was evident. She had seen Peters with the same strained look on his face.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“The pleasure is mine. I read your profile; I hope you can help us.”

“I'll do my best,” she promised.

“Welcome back to Paradise, Alexis,” said Chief Lewis. “You might not remember me, but I remember you. When this is over, we'll talk.”

Alexis shook his hand and thanked him, purposely avoiding a comment on the last thing he had said. She wondered if he was referring to her uncle's low opinion of her or something else; she would ask Jake later.

She noticed that both men were tense. The fire marshal's jaw was clenched and a scowl marred the chief's face. From the note in his hand she knew that Jake had told him about the threat.

“Do you think this fire is one of his?” she asked, indicating the note. Something in the grim look they gave her suggested they did.

“We aren't sure, but some information came to light earlier today that makes me suspect it might be,” the chief answered.

“Do you see that boy over there on the grass? That's Willy, one of my department's confidential informants. Since we connected the fires, I've had him keep a closer watch on the community's less savory elements. Apparently, there was an unscheduled meeting here tonight of the Cobras, the local biker gang. One of them is doing community service work here, so they decided to meet while he was on the job.”

He took off his hat and, using a handkerchief, mopped his forehead. Although they were quite a distance from the fire, its heat could be felt. Alexis had removed her hat and gloves and opened her jacket. It didn't take her long to connect the dots — how many would die to eliminate a few bikers?

“There are twelve people unaccounted for; of the nineteen who got out, six are critical and seven others are in serious but stable condition. The ambulances are ready to take another load to the hospital for overnight surveillance. The remaining three are over there.” He pointed to the young people near the EMT truck she had noticed earlier.

“Do you know where the missing are suspected to be?” she asked, flashbacks from another fire mixing with the current images.

“They're all in that section,” the fire marshal answered, indicating the part of the structure in flames. “The staff members and volunteers should be downstairs; the bikers and the others could be anywhere upstairs in that area. Until we get inside we won't know exactly where the fire started, but the council was in the process of re-insulating the building with energy-saving polystyrene insulation; hence all the black smoke.” He wiped ineffectively at the soot on his face.

“When the facility was turned over to Correctional Services, steel riot doors were installed. For some reason, when the smoke alarms went off, they triggered the lock down feature that should have been disabled. The steel doors on both floors are sealed shut, and we can't seem to reopen them. It's preventing us from getting into that part of the building and keeping anyone in that section from getting out,” he continued, exasperation evident in his voice.

“The only other way in is the back stairwell and it's completely involved. It looks as if the grease and oil bin was moved closer to the entrance. It violates the safety code, but places do it all the time during the winter so that they don't have so far to go. It could even have been the ignition point, for all we know. I've sent to North Bay for a foam suppressant; we ordered more after the garage fire, but it hasn't arrived. It should be here anytime. My men are trying to vent the roof to see if we can go in that way or through the windows, but the bars are a problem. Excuse me.” He walked away to join another fire officer who had called to him.

Alexis turned to Jake. “He's here, Jake. He's watching me and he's upset.” She looked at him, begging him to accept what she said. “Don't ask me how I know, I just do.” She faced the buildings across the street.

“He's up there. Have someone check those roofs and the church tower. Get someone else to take a closer look at the crowd. If he slips in with the gawkers, we'll lose him. I need to talk to those kids.”

“You've got it. I'll send Leduc and Howard to check the buildings, and I'll look at the crowd myself. I can't believe someone did this on purpose. I thought I'd seen enough of this senseless violence towards women and children overseas; I didn't expect it here.”

“Hey,” she grabbed his arm and turned him back towards her, concern for his welfare evident on her face. “Don't make assumptions. They can get you killed. We don't know yet that he's the one who did this, and we aren't even sure it's arson yet.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Be careful, please.”

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a fierce hug. He let go of her and smiled. “Ditto, partner.” He turned and moved off towards the throng.

Alexis watched him limp away into the crowd. Like her, he had been given a hard hat and an orange safety vest to identify him as part of the on-scene investigation unit. She pulled out her asthma pump and took the two required puffs. The air was thick with smoke. The last thing anyone needed was for her to collapse.

She turned and walked over to the EMT vehicle. The paramedic, a young woman who seemed too young to be doing the job, was handing out another round of small oxygen cylinders to three boys sitting on the tailgate of the truck.