Arsonist

CHAPTER 6

The interrogation room was hot and there were no windows. Stanton brought a cold soda in with him and set it on the table in front of sixteen-year-old Fernando. He sat across from him and smiled as he opened a bottle of juice for himself. Fernando watched him a moment and then opened the soda and took a swig.

“I saw in your file from school that you play baseball. What position?”

“Shortstop.”

“I played catcher but I was too skinny so they sent me to left field. I remember there wasn’t much to do there but I would get a chance to just hang out in the sunshine and think about things. It was much more enjoyable than being catcher.”

“How long did you play for?”

“Just one season. I never really got into sports until I took up surfing.”

Gunn walked in then, his hair wet and slicked back and his face freshly washed. Stanton knew he had been in the bathroom splashing cold water on himself.

Fernando looked to him and then back to Stanton and said, “I’ve been playing since I was six. I was gonna go to college on a scholarship. That was my plan.”

“Why did you say it ‘was’ your plan?”

“I don’t know. I ain’t got no other family. I might be put in a foster home. I’ve heard bad stories about people my age that get put into foster homes and I don’t know if they’re gonna let me play baseball.”

Stanton leaned a little closer to the table. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your stepfather, Fernando.”

“He was a good guy. He took me in when my moms died and took care of me. He was the one that got me into baseball. He said that was my way out.”

“Out of what?”

“The life, man. I got two older brothers and they’re both in prison. Where I come from, you play sports or you stand on them corners and sell dope. There’s no other way out.”

“He sounds like he was a good father.”

Gunn was leaning against the wall and looking at his shoes. “My old man bought me a hooker when I was fourteen. He said I’m a man and that’s what men do. That’s the only thing the son of a bitch ever bought me.”

Stanton looked to him and then back to Fernando. “Fernando, can you tell me what you remember about the fire?”

“I was asleep in my room. I was just there on the bed and I heard my pops yelling for me.”

“What happened then?”

“I got up and there was smoke everywhere. It was coming in through my door and I started coughing and stuff. I ran out into the hall ‘cause he was yelling for me but it felt like I was gonna pass out and there was fire everywhere. It was all in the hallway and I couldn’t get to him.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I couldn’t get to him.”

“Fernando, listen to me, you did everything you could. No one expected you to be able to save him. It was out of your hands at that point.”

Gunn said, “Did you see how the fire started?”

“No.”

“So you just woke up and the house was on fire, huh? That seems weird that you didn’t smell nothin’.”

Fernando shrugged and looked down to the table. He began to play with the soda can. Stanton could tell he was shutting down.

“Stephen, would you mind if Fernando and I just talked for a minute?”

Gunn looked at him, incredulous, anger flashing in his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

When he had left, Stanton took a sip of his juice and leaned back in the chair. “His family’s not close. He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose somebody.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, my mother. She died of breast cancer when I was a lot younger. I was with her through those times. The hospital cafeteria cook even started making me dinner every night and keeping it warm in the oven ‘cause I was there so much.”

Tears came to Fernando’s eyes again and he wiped them with the back of his hand. Stanton gently placed his hand on his wrist. They sat quietly a long time as Fernando softly wept.

When he was through, Stanton stood up.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

He stepped out of the room and saw Gunn staring through the two-way mirror. He didn’t acknowledge Stanton as he walked by.

Stanton walked down the hallway to his office and flipped through the contacts on his iPhone. He found the number he was looking for and dialed. A female voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Cami. It’s Jon.”

“Hey, how are you! I haven’t talked to you in a minute.”

“I know. Sorry about that. I’ve been swamped up here. How’s Hank doing?”

“Great. He’s been focusing more on commercial real estate and leaving the residential stuff for the young kids. He works fewer hours and likes his clientele more.”

“That’s good news. Please tell him hi for me and that we’ll go golfing again soon.”

“I will. So what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could pull some strings and have a kid placed with a family.”

“For you, anything. Tell me about him?”

“He’s sixteen and his mother died some time ago. His stepfather took care of him since then and he just passed away in a fire. I think he needs a family that doesn’t have anybody else his same age. He’d do really well with a couple or a couple with young children.”

“Okay. I’m not at the office now but when I head back I’ll find someplace good. Can you email me his info?”

“Sure thing. I’m going to keep him here at the station for now. How quickly can we do it?”

“We could get him in tomorrow or the next day if I rush. You can place him in a group home for now.”

“No, I’ll put him up in a hotel. Can you let me know as soon as you have a place lined up?”

“You got it.”

“Thanks, Cami. Take care.”

“You too. Bye.”

Stanton walked out of his office and to the front desk. He checked the roster and saw that a young rookie named McManis was on duty at the front desk. He went and hunted him down, finding him in the break room, eating some Twinkies.

“Got a kid here that we’re putting up in a hotel. There’s a Marriott a couple miles west, near Greenview. I need you to take him there.” Stanton took out his credit card and handed it to him. “Use this to pay. Also tell the front desk to allow him any meals he wants.”

McManis rolled his eyes but took the credit card.

Stanton walked back to the interrogation room. Gunn was still standing there, his arms folded.

“So we gonna actually drill this little shit or what?” he said.

“No.”

“And, oh great and wise Jonathan, may I ask why not?”

Stanton ignored the sarcasm. “He didn’t do it.”

“What? You think you can tell that from a two-minute conversation about baseball?”

“I’m telling you, Stephen, he didn’t do it. I’m putting him up in a hotel for tonight, and tomorrow he’s gonna be placed in a good foster home. He’s got no relatives to go to.”

“Hey fuck that. He’s our prime-no-our only suspect in a homicide and you’re just gonna let him go?”

“I don’t think it was a homicide.”

“You heard the arson investigator just like I did.”

“He came to his decision too quickly. He was just processing the scene to match a hunch he had. It wasn’t objective; he wasn’t listening to the evidence.”

Gunn shook his head. “You don’t know shit about arson investigations, Jon. And neither do I. Let’s leave it to the experts.”

“I intend to.”