Was he supposed to be scared because some guy with a badge was driving down the street? Was that supposed to scare him off?
When were they going to realize that nothing scared him? He was the one people feared.
Her light was still on. He’d even glimpsed her, standing at her window, leaning forward, and peering down to watch the cop.
All alone tonight. Her lover was gone.
Lora was alone and—
Looking for me.
Looking in the wrong place.
He glanced down at his watch. He’d have to monitor the cop. A couple of drive-arounds, just to make sure that he had the timing down right.
And he had to give Lora a chance to sleep. Not like he could go in when she was awake and aware. No, that would never work. Lora would be better taken during a weak moment.
So he’d wait, just a bit. Wait and watch.
The match rolled between his fingertips.
“We gave the guy four cups of coffee, three hamburgers, and an order of fries.” Jon leaned against the wall near the interrogation viewing window. “You think he’s starting to sober up now?”
Well, Bob’s eyes weren’t rolling back in his head anymore, so that seemed like a definite improvement.
Monica sat across the table from him in Interrogation, her head cocked. “Mr. Kyle, I need to ask you some questions.”
Robert “Bob” Kyle. Vietnam vet. Alcoholic. They’d gotten his records from the veterans’ hospital in Charlottesville. The guy heard voices and had been diagnosed as schizophrenic almost twenty years ago—right before his wife died of ovarian cancer. A few months after her death, Bob had started living on the streets.
“You know he’ll never make it in a courtroom. Schizophrenic…” Jon shook his head. “The defense attorney would just say he imagined the whole thing.”
“I’m not worried about a defense attorney right now,” Kenton told him. They’d cross that bridge later. “I just want to find the bastard hunting out there.”
Kenton kept his gaze on the interrogation. Bob wasn’t talking, just rubbing his fingers over the top of the table. This was gonna take all night. “And the order went through for a cop to patrol Lora’s neighborhood?” His order.
Jon nodded. “A cop’s cruising her neighborhood, and he’s scheduled to do constant sweep-throughs all night.”
So Lora would have an extra pair of eyes on her. Good, but—
Not good enough. Because he wanted to be there with her, watching over her and making damn sure that she was safe.
“When you were at the train station, I want to know what you saw.” Monica pushed another cup of coffee toward Bob. “Before the cops arrived.”
“Blue lights…” Bob whispered.
“Right, before the blue lights, I want to know about the man who was there.” She offered him a smile. “You told the other agents he was in a truck.”
A couple of fast nods.
“You like trucks, don’t you?”
Another nod.
“What color do you like best on your trucks?”
“B-blue.”
“I like that, too.” A beat of silence. “What color was the truck you saw tonight?”
Bob scratched his head. “Dark. Couldn’t see.”
Because that area had been piss black.
“But you were able to see… someone, right?”
His tongue swiped over his lips. “Heard ’im talkin’. Laughin’.”
“And when you heard him, you went closer, didn’t you?”
A nod. “H-he was close to the light.”
“That’s what you told Agent Lake.” She smiled again. Weird seeing that big, fake-friendly smile on Monica. “And you saw a man?”
“With a hat—” Bob said in a rush. “A baseball h-hat. Cathy and me—we… we always liked the games.”
Cathy, his dead wife.
“She got me a cap like that once.” He reached for the coffee, and some of the dark liquid jostled over the side. “But I don’t like the Braves.”
Monica leaned forward. “Did that guy like the Braves?”
“Big A.” Another nod. “That’s what was… on his c-cap. Big A.”
“Tell me more about him.”
“I don’t…” Bob trailed off.
“Was he tall? Short?”
But Bob just shook his head now.
“Thin? Was he about your size, Bob?”
Bob wasn’t answering now. Just staring down into the coffee.
Kenton exhaled. One long damn night.
“You think old Bob even knows where he is?” Jon asked, scratching his chin.
But just then, Bob looked up. “I want to see C-Cathy—tell ’er to come in. I want to go to a game…”
Kenton’s fist hit the wall. “Probably not.”
Kenton marched into Interrogation, closed the door, and waited.
“Bob.” Monica touched his hand.
He flinched.
“Bob, look at Agent Lake.”
His gaze darted to him.
“The man you saw, the man in the baseball cap…” Her voice was soft and easy. “Was he bigger than Agent Lake?”
Kenton stared back at him, keeping his face expressionless.
“N-no.”
“Good. That’s good.” Her hand withdrew. “Smaller?”
“N-no.” Bob licked his lips. “H-his s-size.”
“Did you see the man’s face?” She paused a beat, letting the guy think, then asked, “Can you tell me—”
“Cap… low… didn’t see…”
Monica cocked her head. “You saw his phone, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“I want you to think about his phone for me, Bob. Think about his hand. You saw him holding the phone, right?”
A quick nod.
“Good. That’s good.” She waited another beat. “What did his hand look like? Was i—”
“White.” He stared at his own hand. “Like… mine.”
So they were looking for a Caucasian, about six foot two, one-eighty to two hundred pounds. A guy who liked to wear a Braves ball cap and liked to drive a truck. But judging by the number of trucks Kenton had seen since arriving in town, a lot of men in this area liked to drive them.
Certainly not the best description, but better than nothing.
They’d already checked all the traffic cameras located in the fire zones, but their perp had been smart. He hadn’t shown up once, probably because the bastard knew exactly where those cameras were placed.
He’s sticking to the back roads and alleys. The guy knows this town.
“I want to go h-home.” Bob’s fist suddenly slammed into the table. “Cathy! I want to go home!”
Monica’s lips tightened. “I know you do.”
Tears leaked from his eyes. “Where’s Cathy?”
Monica shoved back her chair. “Kenton, let’s go outside.”
Bob put his head down and covered his ears. His shoulders shook.
Monica waited until the door closed behind them and then started shaking her head. “He can’t handle any more. We push again, the guy is just going to break.”
Reality had a way of doing that to a man. The longer Bob stayed sober and coherent, the more he realized what the hell had happened to him.
And that Cathy wasn’t coming to take him home.
“I’ve got a call in to the VA. They’ll be here, probably around eight tomorrow. We’ll get his doctor, see about getting him medicated, contact any family he’s got…” She shrugged. “Maybe we’ll be able to get more then.”
Or maybe not.
Kenton sighed. It was closing in on 2:00 A.M. They might as well pack it in. Their witness was sure done.
He rubbed the thick knot of tension in the back of his neck. “We’ll come back after the doc checks him out tomorrow.” After they gave him the care that the guy obviously needed.
Monica reached for Kenton’s arm. Her fingers brushed against him. “We have more now.”
r /> “We just have to make sure this witness stays alive,” Kenton snapped. Not like the last one. I should have done more for Powell.
“He’ll stay under police protection,” Monica assured him. “I’ll make sure that he doesn’t get out of their sight. Nothing will happen to him.”
“Uh, guys…” Jon’s voice was tense. Kenton glanced up and saw the guy hurrying toward them. “I think you’d both better fucking get outside, right now.”
Kenton turned toward him.
Jon stood, eyes slits, jaw locked. “One of the cops just told me that Captain Lawrence is out there talking to some reporters that have been staking out the place.”
“What?” Kenton took off. No, oh, hell, no, this was the last thing they needed right now. He heard the tap of Monica’s high heels as she ran behind him.
He turned a hard right at the corner, shot through the quiet bullpen, and headed fast for the entrance to the station. Christ, he could see the camera outside.
No one had given Lawrence the all-clear to talk to the press, and if that guy so much as mentioned their witness…
Kenton’s hands slammed down hard on the door handle, sending the glass door flying open and the captain—
“We are confident that the witness we currently have in custody will be instrumental in the apprehension of the perpetrator known as Phoenix.” Lawrence’s voice was loud and too confident.
“Shit.” Monica’s whisper from right behind Kenton.
Growling, he hurried to the captain’s side. Did Lawrence have any idea just what he’d done?
“Our witness saw Phoenix. We’ll have his description up and—”
“I’m afraid the interview is over,” Kenton said, amazed that his voice came out cool and halfway calm when rage pumped through his blood so hard and fast. He grabbed Lawrence’s arm, harder than necessary, but so what, and pulled the guy back. Then he stepped in front of him, deliberately using his larger body to block the idiot.
“What are you doing?” Lawrence demanded, voice low. “This is my—”
“Don’t say another word.” Kenton caught Monica’s order to the captain.
Kenton didn’t glance back at them. He stared at the group. A cameraman and a reporter from Channel Five. And the guy on the right—his press badge listed his name as Thomas Jones. He was a reporter for the Charlottesville Times. They all stared at him with eager, hungry expressions on their faces. Like a pack of wolves. “We have no further comment on the Phoenix case tonight.”
“But what about the witness?” The reporter from Channel Five, Elle Shaw, pressed forward.
“What does Phoenix look like? If you’ve got it, then give us his description,” Jones demanded.
“The SSD is currently following multiple leads on this case,” Kenton said smoothly, offering them a smile while he shoved down his anger. “And, yes, we are confident that we will be making an arrest in this case.” He wouldn’t leave town until they did.
“When?” Jones wanted to know.
Kenton’s glance drifted over them. “We are collecting evidence at this time.”
“Evidence supplied by your witness?” Shaw asked.
Now this was the dicey part. He needed to work some serious damage control. “I don’t want the witness’s name mentioned in your reports.”
Silence.
“Uh, excuse me?” Shaw blinked a few times. Right. Like she’d never been asked to sit on a story before. She knew this game.
“Turn off the camera,” Kenton ordered, still with a casual smile on his face. Letting the reporters see your fury was never a good idea. They needed finesse and charm.
Lawrence swore behind him. That guy had no charm.
The camera light blinked off.
“At this juncture, the SSD would like for you to refrain from running any story about a possible witness to the arsons.”
“What the hell?” Elle exclaimed. “The captain just told us about—”
“And I’m telling you—the SSD would consider it a personal favor if this information wasn’t aired, at least not until we’ve had a chance to follow up on our new leads.” Sweat trickled down his back, but Kenton kept his pose loose and easy.
Elle’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in it for us?”
His gaze swept between her and Jones. “The two of you will get the first call when we catch the bastard.”
Elle smiled.
Jones narrowed his eyes.
“You don’t talk about the witness yet, and you’ll both get the best interviews in town.” He offered another smile. “Or you can run the story as is and rest assured that you will not be privy to any more discoveries or statements from the SSD.”
He let that sink in, and after a moment, Shaw gave a grudging nod. Kenton’s stare centered on Jones. “Do we have an agreement?”
Jones smiled, flashing too many teeth. “Sure we do.”
And Kenton was sure that he didn’t believe the guy.
“Then we’ll be talking soon.”
He turned away, grabbed Lawrence’s arm, and tried to make the hold look friendly. But he failed and pulled the guy away with him.
When he passed Jon, Kenton leaned toward the other agent. “Until Lawrence goes home, make sure no other reporters get inside tonight. The SSD needs to keep control of the media.”
Jon nodded and immediately headed to guard the door.
Kenton didn’t speak again and didn’t answer Lawrence’s blustering questions until they were back in the captain’s office. Monica shut the door behind them. Very, very quietly.
“What the hell is your problem?” Lawrence demanded, his hawkish face tight. “You don’t interrupt me when—”
“Who the hell gave you permission to discuss the witness with the press?” Kenton cut right through his words.
The guy’s mouth hung open. Then closed. Then opened. Fish-style. But then the captain’s hand slapped against the desk. “I don’t need permission. This is my PD, and I can—”
Kenton clenched his fists. “Listen up, Captain. Listen real good. This isn’t your case. I told you that already. The SSD is in charge of the Phoenix investigation now.”
“This is my city—”
“And this is my killer,” Kenton tossed right back. “And we don’t need some piss-for-brains cop screwing up our investigation.”
Lawrence went red. “You can’t—”
“We can,” Monica told him quietly. “We have the authority here.”
Lawrence’s shoulders hunched. “Just… an interview… little one for the press… knew f-folks would want to know—”
About the witness.
“Tell me, Captain,” Kenton said, “do you know what happened to the last man who tried to give us a description of Phoenix?”
The cop’s eyes widened.
“Larry Powell,” Kenton supplied. “He was here, right in this damn station, and he saw Phoenix, too.”
Monica stepped back and let him close in for the kill.
“Now he’s in the morgue,” Kenton told him, jaw tight. “Or what’s left of his burnt and charred body is.”
“Phoenix doesn’t seem to like leaving witnesses alive,” Monica added.
The captain’s face bleached of that fiery red. “I-I d-didn’t…”
“You didn’t read the report that Dr. Jennings sent to you?” Kenton’s voice snapped.
Lawrence flinched.
The captain had just put a target on Bob. And all because Lawrence had wanted his own face splashed on the news.
“What do you think Phoenix will do when he sees this piece on the news?” Monica asked softly.
Fury heated Kenton’s blood. “Who do you think will be next on the guy’s list?”
Lawrence sagged against the front of his desk. The hair he’d slicked back on the sides glinted in the light. “I-I just didn’t—”
Think. Yeah, they knew that.
“You’re giving Bob Kyle protection,” Kenton ordered. “Twenty-four-seven protection, you unders
tand?”
Because he was not going to let another witness die. Powell already haunted him.
“They won’t run the story, right?” Lawrence asked, swiping a hand over his forehead. “You told them… they won’t run the story.”
Kenton sighed. The cop really didn’t understand this game. “If they don’t, we’ll be damn lucky.” And he’d never counted on luck.
Lora’s lights were out.
He inched along the edge of her property, keeping to the shadows near the tree line.
The cop and his partner were taking six minutes to circle.
Six minutes.
So much could happen in six minutes.
Fire. Death.
He smiled. Six minutes. So much time.
His fingers tightened around the can of gasoline. Then he tipped the can over and started to pour.
CHAPTER Twelve
Lora rolled over and slammed her fist into the pillow once more. She couldn’t get to sleep. She could only close her eyes and lie there.
But she couldn’t turn her mind off.
Phoenix. He was out there, somewhere, planning his next attack. And Kenton—Kenton was stirring him up and painting a giant bull’s-eye on his back.
What do I do? If he comes after Kenton, what am I supposed to do?
She exhaled. Dammit, she needed to see him.
The smell hit her, acrid and harsh, filling her nostrils. A smell she knew all too well.
Lora jumped from her bed in an instant and ran to the window. Her fingers fumbled as she struggled to open the lock, then she shoved up the glass pane.
Smoke and fire surrounded her house. A line of flames circled the house and licked at the wood, rising quickly up the side.
How much heat can you handle?
He’d come after her.
She whirled away, grabbed the thick covers off her bed, and ran for the stairs.
When he left the station, Kenton knew exactly where he was headed, and he couldn’t get there fast enough.
He wanted Lora. He wanted to see her and touch her. He wanted her in his bed.
After Phoenix’s threat—and dealing with the captain’s bullshit—Kenton needed to see her, just to make certain she was all right, because there was a knot in his gut, had been all night.
He’d just take a quick look. Just go by her house to make sure she was safe.