Fireproof

CHAPTER 17

Maggie arrived back at the scene just as Tully and Racine were walking out of the blasted wall of the second site. She almost wished they had left for the day. Anything to avoid those looks of concern. Tully had already called to check on her, offered to pick her up and take her home. She had declined. Told him she was on her way back, and yet the two of them looked surprised to see her.

“Just a few stitches,” she told them before either had a chance to ask. She said it in midstride and in a tone that closed the subject. “You mind catching me up?”

Racine gave her details about “the stiff” behind the Dumpster, including her theory that the kill had been made somewhere else.

“Stan’s office bagged and carted her,” Racine added. “He promised to do the autopsy himself first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Any chance she was homeless?” Maggie asked.

Racine shook her head. “Feet were exposed. Looked like a professional pedicure.”

“We did find the remains of a cardboard box,” Tully said. “Ganza’s back there seeing what trace he can find.”

Keith Ganza was the director of the FBI crime lab. Maggie wondered why this case suddenly warranted the director’s presence instead of a crime scene tech. Their boss, Assistant Director Kunze, lived by a political code Maggie abhorred. Twice in the past year that code had almost gotten her killed. She hoped Ganza was on the site simply because he wanted to be here instead of sending one of his techs. He was good. She liked working with him. If there were any answers in the rubble, Ganza would find them.

“I’ve got uniforms talking to the locals,” Racine continued. “They’re checking deliveries to the area and cab drivers. Maybe we get lucky and one of them saw something.”

Maggie stopped outside the opening Tully and Racine had just exited. The scent accosted her and she pretended it didn’t bother her. Why had she thought the scorched stench would have dissipated? She knew better. What she didn’t know, what still surprised her, was her body’s involuntary reaction to it. She caught herself wanting to hold her breath as the smell seeped into her throat, her lungs. Even her mouth tasted the charred remains like the black carbon on an overdone charcoal-grilled steak.

Don’t think about it, she told herself.

Tully kept his fingers at the top of his Tyvek overalls’ zipper, almost as if waiting for Maggie’s signal whether they were going back inside.

That’s when it occurred to her that she didn’t need to go in. What could she possibly learn that Tully and Racine hadn’t found? Her jaw relaxed. To insist on going for a look-see would be overkill. She didn’t need to drive home any point here.

She saw the fire department’s crew still sifting and raking the ashes and rubble.

“Any signs of the timing device?” she asked, not making a move.

Tully shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Fire chief believes they found the start point on the outside of the first building,” Racine said. “Preliminary guess is some kind of chemical reaction, because of the intensity of the fire. Said it looked similar to last week’s.”

“There was gasoline poured along the alley from the front of the building to the Dumpster,” Tully told her. “It was against the brick wall. Burned up the line of accelerant without going anywhere else.”

“The alley wasn’t the start point?”

“Not even close. It might have been an afterthought. And a poorly executed one.”

“The killer didn’t even try to burn the body?”

Tully shrugged. “If that was his intention he didn’t do a very good job. The guy torches two buildings but his murder victim doesn’t quite catch fire. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh, and there was another body inside the first building,” Racine said casually, almost absentmindedly. “Or at least someone’s head. They haven’t found the body yet.”

“Stan said something about pressure in the skull building up enough to blow it off the body.”

“Yeah,” Racine added with a roll of her eyes. “Gives new meaning to snap, crackle, and pop.”

“Only the skull looks bashed in. Has a hole about the size of a fist.” Tully held up his own to emphasize how big.

“You’re thinking he killed the person inside, too. But then why leave one body out by the Dumpster?”

“Maybe the one inside was some poor schmuck who was sleeping there. Maybe a homeless person who saw him.” Racine’s turn to shrug.

Truth was, they couldn’t answer any of those questions until they started piecing together the trace evidence or found out who the victims were.

Maggie’s phone started ringing. She pulled it out and was going to send it to voice mail when she saw the caller ID. She shot Tully a look. “You told Gwen?”

“I haven’t talked to Gwen since midnight.”

“Racine?”

“Gwen Patterson is not on my speed dial.”

“But Ben is?”

Racine’s eyes went wide. Busted. Her head turned, hands went up in surrender. No denial.

Maggie finally answered her phone.

“Hey, Gwen.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. A few stitches. That’s all. How in the world did you find out?”

“I’m watching the news. They were showing the fire. Then you were trying to take away some TV crew’s camera.”

“They showed that on the news?” Maggie glanced at Tully. He pulled a small plastic cartridge from his pocket.

“Just as you’re trying to ask them something, a building explodes into flames behind you. They said you were rushed to the hospital. Are you sure you’re okay? And why am I hearing about this on TV? Or do I need to wait for Jeffery Cole’s profile piece on you tonight to find out?”

“Profile piece?”

“An hour long. You either intrigued him or really pissed him off.”

That’s when Maggie’s call waiting started beeping in her ear.

“I’ve got another call, Gwen. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Are you really okay?”

She hesitated too long, and before she responded Gwen added, “Please be careful.”

Maggie took the next call without looking at her caller ID.

“This is Maggie O’Dell.”

“O’Dell. I just heard what happened.”

It was her boss. But Assistant Director Kunze didn’t sound angry. It was worse—he sounded concerned.