Fire Angel (9 page)

Most people who died in a fire did so because of smoke inhalation. Inhaled smoke injured and killed in three different ways — heat damage to the upper airway, chemical damage to the bronchial tubes, and poisoning by carbon monoxide, cyanide, or any other chemical produced by combustion. Even if the smoke had not burned their lungs, she was sure these boys had probably taken in enough poison to make oxygen necessary.

“Hi, I'm Special Agent Michaels,” she said to the young paramedic who had just finished wrapping gauze around a boy's upper left arm. The boy's shirt had been burned and hung loosely from his shoulder.

“Are any of those guys well enough to speak to me?” she asked indicating the trio on the truck.

“Any of those should be able to talk to you. These,” she indicated the ambulances, “I'm sending directly to the hospital — the girl is just a little over five months pregnant. She's really having difficulty breathing; I hope she doesn't go into premature labor. They should probably go too, and depending on what the firefighters find when they go in, they might. Right now, space is the problem. Ours is a small hospital; as soon as they can, they'll transfer the most severe cases to Ottawa. The tough guy over there, the one who calls himself Maverick, his girlfriend is trapped in the kitchen; dying's a pretty steep price to pay for shopping with the five finger discount. Go easy on him; he blames himself for not getting her out.”

“Thanks.” Alexis walked over to the boys with oxygen masks over their mouths and noses, sitting in the back of the pick-up. Someone had given them blankets; judging from the assortment of colors and styles, she assumed it was someone living in the houses across the street. The young men were covered in soot.
These guys tried to save the others,
she thought, flashing back to the night she had done the same. She knew how guilty and powerless they felt. It was time to build them up. If they thought they could help, it would go a long way towards restoring their self-esteem.

“Hi, I'm Special Agent Michaels. I was wondering if you guys would mind answering a few questions for me. I'm not the police; I'm a fire and arson investigator, and while most of my work will be done once the fire is out, you guys can help me by telling me what you saw.”

“Sure, Agent Michaels, whatever we can do,” said one of the boys after he removed his oxygen mask.

“Okay; let's start with your names.”

“I'm Zee, this is Maverick, and that's Stretch. What do you need to know?”

Alexis looked at the young man. His red hair was singed as was his shirt. The one he called Maverick was the one with the recently treated arm. The other, Stretch, was the shortest of the bunch and had scorch marks on his clothing as well as a flash burn on the side of his face.

“Where were you guys when the fire started?”

“You're not going to rat us out, are you?” asked Zee.

“No, of course not; I told you, I'm not the police; I'm here to study the fire, not hand out demerits if you've broken curfew.”
Kids are all the same
, she thought;
nobody trusts the grown-ups.

Zee nodded. “Okay. We snuck into the gym; it's off-limits at night, but it's cold out and we wanted to smoke a joint. We heard three loud bangs, like a car backfiring, and then the fire alarm went off, and we ran out into the main hallway. Maverick was racing down the hall because his girlfriend was in the kitchen, and that's when we saw the metal doors closing. Mav grabbed a chair to try and prop them open, but when he leaned against the edge of the door, his flipping shirt caught fire. It, like, exploded! Stretch was close and his face got a blast of it. We threw Mav to the ground and rolled him, you know, the way they teach you to do in kindergarten — stop, drop, and roll.”

Maverick spoke up. “I don't know what was on that door, but it felt like it was eating my arm.”

“But you're feeling okay now?” she asked.

The boy nodded. “Yeah, she cleaned it and put stuff on it; it stings a little, but it's good.”

“Wait for me here; I'll be right back,” said Alexis finishing the note in her book. “I need to check something with the paramedic. By the way, where did you score the weed?”

“One of the bikers; he said it was an early Christmas present.” He sobered. “I guess he's not going to see Christmas, is he?”

She shook her head. “Probably not; thanks. Wait here.”

She went over to the paramedic; she didn't like where this was going, and she had a feeling that the horror was just beginning.

“I know you're busy, but can I ask you a question?” When the paramedic nodded, she continued. “Maverick's burn, is it a fire burn or a chemical burn?”

“Actually, it's a chemical burn. I've seen it before, but I can't place it.” She shook her head.

“It's the only one of its kind I've seen tonight. Most people have soot on them, but there are very few burns of any sort. I didn't treat them all, and the worse ones went straight to the ER. Those boys probably saved a few lives; by holding that door open those extra minutes, at least six women and four children escaped from the dining room, including our pregnant miss.” She shook her head.

“The weight of the door pushed the chair out of the way before they could get anyone out of the kitchen. I heard the firefighter say that it's as if they're welded shut.”

“Think carefully; could it be a cyanoacrylate burn? You know, super glue? His shirt is cotton, and if he rubbed against some of that, then there would have been an exothermic reaction.”

“That's it; that's where I saw that burn before. A couple of kids at Summerfield were using super glue to make kites last summer and decided to use cotton fabric instead of the plastic they'd been given. They were seriously injured. The smoke was weird — it was white and really caustic. I'd never heard of fire with pure white smoke before.”

“Thanks.”
This is bad, very bad,
thought Alexis.

She walked over to her three witnesses. “Guys, when Maverick's shirt burned, what color was the smoke?”

Maverick laughed. “Believe it or not, it was white.”

Alexis nodded. “You guys were really brave tonight, you could have run off and saved yourselves, but you saved others. You're heroes.”

Maverick let the tears he had been fighting since the fire began roll down his cheeks. “But I couldn't save my girlfriend,” he said and turned away, his body shaking as the tears flowed in earnest.

Zee looked at his friend's back and then turned to her. “We have our own reasons for being on the streets, but we're not cowards. We'd have gone back in if they'd have let us.”

“I know you would've; not everyone living on the streets is in the wrong. There are a lot of monsters behind closed doors,” Alexis said, her voice conveying all the sympathy and understanding she felt. “What color was the rest of the smoke?”

“Thick and black,” said Stretch. “Maybe something happened to the stove; it was pretty old.”

“Maybe,” Alexis answered. “Thanks guys; you've been a big help.”

“Hey, they're bringing someone down,” cried Stretch.

Alexis looked up at the far end of the roof. The firefighters were passing what appeared to be a body bag down the ladder. She sighed. The coroner's van would be full tonight.

Alexis praised the boys again, thanked them for their help, and walked swiftly to the police car where Constables Leduc and Howard were standing with Jake.

“Did you see anyone?” she asked. She tried to reach out to see if she could feel him again, but if he was around, he wasn't concentrating on her or on the fire.

Constable Leduc shook his head and answered. “We couldn't get into the church to check because the doors are locked. We're trying to find someone with a key.”

“I didn't see anyone acting suspicious either,” said Jake coming to stand beside her. “There doesn't seem to be anyone who's overly curious and I didn't see anyone who doesn't belong here. The gawkers are the usual sort, but no one stands out. Did you learn anything?”

“Yes,” she said. “And none of it is good.” She took his arm, craving the sense of security she'd felt with him earlier and not ashamed of it. She spotted the mobile canteen set up on the edge of the perimeter. “They have coffee over there. Let's get a cup, and I'll fill you in.”

They walked over to the truck set up on the edge of the crowd. It never ceased to amaze her that morbid curiosity could drag people out of warm beds into the freezing cold to watch others suffer, or in this case, die. And they said animals were beasts.

“On the house for you,” said the vendor.

“Thanks, Frank; I don't know how we'd manage without you,” said Jake taking the Styrofoam cup and a date square wrapped in plastic. “The guys really appreciate this.”

Frank handed Alexis a cup and a chocolate brownie. She smiled and nodded her thanks, but he looked away so quickly, he probably hadn't noticed. She shrugged as the man continued his conversation with Jake.

“Lynette called and got me out of bed; she said it was an emergency. I guess she was right. Pretty bad one, is it? Did everybody get out?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” said Jake and turned to Alexis who had finished doctoring her coffee.

“Let's go see Linc and Everett and you can tell us all what you've learned.” They walked over to the fire marshal and police chief.

Alexis felt a strange frisson, as if someone had walked over her grave. The sudden feeling of enmity momentarily stunned her and made her jerk. She stopped and looked around.

“Twelve dead so far,” said Everett, when they joined him. He shook his head. “There's no telling how many more.”

“If we assume that the Fire Angel lit this fire, he has escalated; he's more than doubled his kills; if it's a copycat, then he has outdone his mentor, and we have one hell of a problem on our hands,” added the fire marshal.

Alexis related what she'd learned and watched their faces fill with horror as she spoke. She knew that this was not what they'd hoped; in fact, it was exactly what they'd feared.

“So, this means it's his fourth fire. I'm sure that you'll find evidence of some sort of explosive devices, possibly home-made pipe bombs; you can learn to make those on the internet and they don't need very sophisticated ingredients. With the farms around here, fertilizer would be easy to get.” She let that sink in before sharing the worst.

“I won't know for sure until I examine the doors, but my money is on a new super glue compound specifically designed to bond metal to metal. There are two or three different brands available online. Once applied to a surface, the super glue stays tacky until the bond is made; that means he had to have access to the building — access that would be considered routine.”

The fire marshal shook his head.

“My God, Alexis! Do you know what you're saying?” asked the police chief. “This is a shelter, a sanctuary for the abused. You can't possibly mean what I think you do — that whoever started this fire knew he'd be killing women and children?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying, and it scares me to death. He has no boundaries. We're missing something here.”

She stopped speaking and looked around at the crowd. Where was he? She tried to sense him, but the connection was broken; he was either gone or concentrating on something other than the fire. Only while they both looked at the fire would she be able to walk into his mind. Too bad she couldn't see the man as well as his thoughts. She turned back to Jake.

“Is he a pyromaniac? I'm not sure, but for him, fire is the ultimate weapon. He's smart, a master manipulator, and no one suspects him. The line between genius and insanity is a fine one.” She paused again to let them consider what she'd said.

“The problem is he could be anyone. No one notices him; he comes and goes at will. He's a ghost. If you find Rohypnol in the bodies they're bringing down from upstairs, then he's drugging them right under their noses, and no one is any wiser. And as Jake and I realized earlier, he's getting inside information. Hell, he could be a cop, a firefighter, or even one of the medics. But one thing is certain; he's not an angel of mercy; he has no intention of rescuing anyone. I do have a problem though with tonight's target.”

“What do you mean?” asked Everett. “The bikers may not have been the scum of the Earth, but they were troublemakers.”

“When did Willy tell you about this meeting?” she asked.

“Around noon today; I see where you're going with this. If this guy was targeting the bikers, there's no way he could have stalked you and put all this in place this afternoon.”

“Exactly! Who knew about Willy?”

“Just my closest staff. He can't be one of us! How can you catch a madman like this?”

“We'll follow the bread crumbs he's leaving us; that's all we can do,” she said determination giving her voice a hard edge. “As I examine each fire scene, I'll learn more.” She turned to Jake.

“We need to know more about the residents and staff. There was another target, a prime one, here long before the bikers decided to hold their meeting. He's been preparing for this for a long time — applying the super glue, reactivating the riot doors, rigging the grease bin and who knows what else; we won't know until we get in there. It probably took weeks to do this; the super glue might have been put on today, but everything else had to be ready. This is carefully planned terrorism. We're at war with an insane man, a man willing to kill any number of people to reach his objective. The problem is we don't know what his objective is.”

Alexis shivered and hugged herself; a deep cold that had nothing to do with the weather seeped into her soul. She would catch this animal, and when she did, she would make sure that he never saw daylight again.