Deadly Heat

Page 17

“Get out! Get out!” Garrison screamed. “Get—”
Kenton looked back at the house—and the world exploded.
• • •
Lora dragged him out. She kept her grip strong and certain even though she wanted to stumble. The flames blazed around her, close enough to touch, as she dragged him.
Shadows moved in front of her. Her eyes were foggy. The fog could be from the sweat. Maybe the blood.
Lora didn’t glance down. She didn’t want to see…
She stumbled onto the porch and fell hard. Other hands were there, reaching for her. And that voice was still in her ear. Screaming for her to get out.
Her hands slapped against the old wood as she tried to crawl forward.
“Lora!” Another voice. She looked up and crawled some more.
“Get her, get her now!” Frank. That was Frank screaming in her ear.
“Shit, Spade, what the hell happened?” Gloved fingers lifted her and took her away from the burning house.
The mask was pulled off her head. She sucked in fresh air and swiped at her eyes. Oh, Christ, what about—“Rick?”
“We got him.” Max stared down at her, face tight, eyes fierce. “He came out right before you.” He lifted her and pushed her onto a gurney. Another mask came at her. “Breathe, Spade.”
“Lora!” Kenton’s voice. Her head turned, and she could see him now as Kenton shoved cops aside and raced toward her.
Her hands trembled. She sucked in air, good, clean air.
“Sweetheart, what the f**k?” He was there, right behind Max. Kenton lifted his hands as if he’d touch her, and she really wanted him to touch her. To hold her and stop the ache in her heart because she knew that they’d lost a man.
She lowered the mask and glanced back at Max. “W-Wade?” She hadn’t let him go. He’d been heavy with all that gear, and those flames, but she’d held on, just like before. Just like…
Max’s lips trembled. His hands clenched, and his eyes darted to the ambulance on the right. The one that was shooting out of the lot and down the road as its siren shrieked. “H-he’s… bad, Lora, I—I don’t—”
Her eyes darted away. Tears trickled down her cheeks. From the wind, from the smoke, the fire. From the f**king pain cutting her apart.
Just like before.
More firefighters were attacking the house with long hoses, blasting water.
Such a good trap this time. With the perfect bait.
“Are you hurt, sweetheart?” Kenton’s voice.
She shook her head. That boy hadn’t gone after her. She’d been too close to the door. The flames had streaked across the floor, he’d lit himself—then launched right at Wade. Wade. He’d been forced to head for the boy. The kid had blocked his path so there was no other way out.
“Spade!” Frank charged toward her with red cheeks and wild eyes. “What the hell happened? What the hell—”
“That f**king pyro, Mike Randall!”
She blinked, turned her head, and saw Rick beside her. He’d pulled off his oxygen mask. “Saw him—when the—” He broke off, coughing hard. “F-f**k did he get back out?”
Mike Randall. The kid’s face flashed before her. That smile…
She knew she’d seen it before. The boy’s life—his file—clicked before her.
Michael Randall. Age sixteen. Of course, she’d known that smile. He’d given her that same smile two years ago, when she dragged him out of the flames. This time, she hadn’t been able to pull him out.
He hadn’t wanted freedom. Just death.
And to take her man with him.
“S-set himself on fire.” Her voice came out rusty. The suit felt heavy. But she was cold. So cold.
Kenton watched her, his hands clenched into fists.
Touch me.
She needed him right then. So half the fire department was right there, crowding around. Screw them.
Touch me.
Her eyes held his, and Kenton stepped forward.
“That pyro brat? When the hell did he get out?” Frank roared. “Malone, shit, you’re supposed to tell us when those bastards get loose!”
Peter was there, too?
Everyone was there, watching.
She raised her chin, and her gaze shot across the field. Bystanders, dozens of them, stared up at the flames. Police cruisers littered the road. Two fire trucks still had their lights flashing, and even as she stared, a news crew filmed her. “Watching,” she whispered.
Kenton shoved Max out of his way and reached for her hand. He eased off her glove and touched her skin.
She flinched.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” His voice was hard, tight with fury, but his touch was light and gentle.
Lora nodded, but no, she wasn’t all right. Because Wade—
“A trap, sir.” More coughing from Rick. Blood trickled down his cheek. “The place was laced with accelerant. He waited… w-waited for us to come in…”
“Then he ignited himself.” Her voice was stronger now, but she felt like she was about to break into a thousand pieces. “He set himself on fire.”
And tried to take them all to hell with him.
“This wasn’t Phoenix.” Rick was adamant. “This was that sick-ass kid that we told you needed to get some help, Malone.”
“He got help!” Peter’s voice thundered back, but was she the only one that noticed the words shook? “Twenty-four months. Therapy twice every week.”
Therapy that obviously hadn’t worked—and Peter knew that. He’d once told her just how little he believed in what he called the “psychobabble bullshit.”
Kenton leaned toward Lora, blocking out the others as he brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “You scared me.”
She met his stare. He’d been watching, too. Watching those flames and staring at the house while she fought the fire. Helpless, outside.
Kenton wasn’t a man who liked to be helpless. Even if she hadn’t known about his past, she’d know that. But this was her job.
“W-wasn’t Phoenix,” Rick yelled again, pushing to his feet, but stumbling a bit. “Just that s-sick freaking kid!”
“Phoenix called this one in,” Pete’s voice cut through his fury. “This was him.”
“No,” Lora shook her head, and her body spasmed as she coughed. “This was… a messed-up kid. A boy who liked the f-fire and wanted to die.” More coughing. Aw, Christ, her chest hurt.
“Get ’em to the hospital! Both of ’em, now!” An EMT grabbed Rick’s arm.
“Man, let me go, the fire’s still—”
“Get in the bus, Rick.” A hard command from Frank.
Rick glared, but he got in because you didn’t ignore the chief.
Lora lifted the mask to her face and took another deep pull of oxygen. Then she climbed into the ambulance behind him. “Just a sick kid,” she whispered again.
Her eyes held Kenton’s until the EMT slammed the door. Then her shoulders slumped as the siren wailed to life.
“Wade… is he gonna make it, Lora?”
She glanced at Rick. Wade had gone through that wall, hard, and Mike had torn off his helmet, his mask, hell, half of Wade’s damn suit. The flames—they’d eaten at his skin before she could get to him.
“He’ll be fine,” she told Rick as the ambulance raced forward. “Just… fine.” She blinked. Her eyes were tearing—from the smoke.
She was such a f**king liar.
The ambulance turned at the corner, and its red brake lights flashed. As he watched the ambulance vanish, Kenton realized he felt cold. Odd, when he was surrounded by so much freaking heat.
“We’ll get a report from ’em, after they’re checked,” Peter Malone said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dammit! I got the all-clear on Randall from his doctors. He was supposed to be safe.”
Kenton glanced back at the house. More firefighters were running in, and the fire still burned.
Safe? Not hardly.
“Got a flashback in the den.” It was Frank’s voice on the radio. “Watch your asses, people! No one else is going down, got me?”
“Kenton, Kenton, are you listening to me?”
No, he hadn’t heard a damn thing that Monica had told him. He blinked and focused on her.
“If this really is Phoenix’s work,” she said, “he’s here. We have to do a thorough search. That bastard is here.”
Cops were there, already talking to the witnesses and taking down names. And the firefighters still surrounded the house. Cops, firefighters, and several gaping neighbors who stared with big eyes and open mouths.
“They saw who did it, Monica,” Kenton spoke quietly. “They saw him.” Lora’s voice had trembled when she talked about the boy. He’d lit up, right in front of her.
And Kenton had been outside, just staring at the flames.
“Phoenix called it in.” Malone was adamant.
“We’re gonna need to hear the recording of that call,” Kenton said automatically. Maybe the SSD could pick up some extra audio from the call that would help them to pinpoint the perp’s location.
Kenton’s gaze focused on the detective who was freaking sweating bullets. “When did Randall get out of jail?” he fired at Malone.
The cop blinked. Sweat trickled down his forehead. “Uh, about three weeks ago. He wasn’t in jail. He was in a treatment facility. The judge sent him to get therapy, his age—”
Kenton’s jaw clenched. If Mike Randall hadn’t been on the streets, there was no way that he could have set the fires six months back.
Not that he’d fit the damn profile anyway.
“He’s here,” Monica said again.
Kenton let his gaze sweep over the crowd once more.
“Watching,” Monica reminded him.
Watching—and taking aim at the firefighters. At Lora.
“He set the whole damn thing up,” Kenton said, voice low. The pieces were clicking into place. “He called because he wanted credit for this kill.”
But how the hell had he done it?
Fucking bastard. Kenton jabbed his index finger at the crowd. “Make sure those cops interview every person in the crowd. No one leaves the scene without getting clear from the uniforms.”
The broadcast had been designed to lure Phoenix to him, but the guy had screwed him. The killer had gone right after the rescue units.
This is for the Bureau bastards.
The perp had gone right after Lora.
CHAPTER Nine
Need a ride?”
Lora glanced up at the deep voice and found Kenton standing just past the hospital emergency room doors.
It had been one hell of a night. After getting the all-clear from the docs, she’d stayed around, hoping for good news on Wade.
Kenton stepped closer to her. “Lora?”
“A ride?” She cleared her throat. “Yeah, that’d be good, thanks.” It beat catching a cab.
They didn’t talk again until they were in his car. He cranked the engine, and it roared instantly to life, but then his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles flashing white.
“Uh, Kent? What’s—”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “He went after you.”
“No.” It had to be some mistake. “It was the kid, I saw him.”
“It was Phoenix,” he said, and a shiver skated down her spine. “Michael Randall was in Meadows Rehab when the other fires were set. Phoenix used him. I don’t know how yet, but he set that boy up as—”
“Bait.” Her eyes drifted to the ambulance that had just raced past them.
“Yeah, f**king bait.” He shifted gears, and the SUV shot forward. “How’s your man?”
Lora took a deep breath. “He went into cardiac arrest about an hour ago.”
“Lora…”
She swallowed and tried to breathe nice and easy. Real hard to do. “He’s stable. For now.” She wasn’t sure how long that would last. The docs hadn’t looked or sounded hopeful. And Wade had a wife in there, pacing the sterile halls. Newlyweds. “He’s got burns—second and third degree—on his face and chest. Randall… he just went after him. Ripped at him as the fire burned.” I couldn’t get to him fast enough. Not with the flames and the walls falling.
“I’m sorry.”
So was she. Sorry she hadn’t moved faster. Sorry she hadn’t yelled out her warning sooner. “Randall had set an accelerant trail all over the house. He was just waiting for us to go in so he could light it.” And trap us inside. Because he’d wanted them all to die.
“I wanted Phoenix to come after me. Not you.” Kenton took two turns and then a hard left. Her house wasn’t far now. She wanted to shower, to wash away the grime and soot.
Laura’s hands pressed against her thighs. “How… how did he get the kid to kill himself?” An image flashed in her mind of another fire. Randall and that smile.
He’d fought her when she tried to pull him out of the flames. He’d screamed, “No, no, I want to see!”
This time, he’d seen everything.
“We’re gonna check to see if there’s any connection with Meadows Rehab. Maybe Phoenix met up with the kid there.” The rumble of his voice filled the car. “Sure seems like Randall was willing bait.”
Her head turned slowly as she leaned back against the seat. So tired.
Another trap. Only this time, the victim had wanted the flames.
“Using the boy was a mistake,” Kenton said. Another turn, then a couple more blocks, and she’d be home. “The boy is gonna lead us to Phoenix.”