Karen Rose - Count to Ten

Julian narrowed his eyes. "Not possible."

"Talk to Secrest. He'll tell you. Manny could have started a fire that put every teacher and student in danger. I did the right thing, even if you don't agree."

Shaking from head to toe but proud she hadn't caved and apologized, she made it to her car and drew a deep breath as she buckled herself in. Hands trembling, she pulled the two articles she'd copied in the last two days. One from Monday's Trib , the other from today's Bulletin . Two fires, local. Two fatalities. Manny had been withdrawn that morning in class. Preoccupied. Disturbed. And they'd found matches in his room.

That Manny could have been involved in these fires was impossible. He couldn't leave the property. But someone had managed to smuggle matches in. These two fires were the only local articles he'd clipped. What made these fires so special? Or had she reignited Manny's compulsion and any articles on fire would have sufficed?

She winced. Ignited . Poor choice of words. Two people were dead because of these fires. She wouldn't be able to sleep as long as she worried she herself was somehow …To blame was also a poor choice of words. Connected was better. She needed to find out if Manny was somehow connected, and through him… me .

She could call the police. That would be the sensible thing to do. But it was more than likely she was being compulsively ridiculous and there was no connection at all. It would be a wild-goose chase for the police and that wouldn't be good.

But if there was a connection, the police should be told. There was one way to find out. The second fire was in a neighborhood closer to the school. She'd see for herself.

Tuesday, November 28, 4:15 p.m.

"Mia. Mia.'"

She looked up from Burnette's files with a jolt, blinking furiously to bring Solliday into focus. Shit . She'd dropped off, right here at her desk. "You ready to trade names?"

He shook his head. "We have company," he said quietly. A woman was crossing the bullpen, her eyes red and swollen. "She matches the description of Hill's daughter."

Mia came to her feet, alert now. In the woman's hand was a copy of the Bulletin .

"I'm Margaret Hill. I'm looking for Detective Mitchell. She left me a message."

"That's me. You're here about your mother."

"Is it true?" she whispered, holding the paper. "What this says about my mother?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Hill. Let's go somewhere where can talk more privately." She led her into a small room next to Spinnelli's office. Still clutching the newspaper, Margaret Hill sank into the chair and closed her eyes. Sollliday closed the door behind them.

"Miss Hill, I'm so sorry for your loss. This is Lieutenant Solliday with the fire marshal's office. We're investigating your mother's death together."

Margaret nodded and swiped her cheeks with her fingertips. Solliday put a box of tissues in her lap and leaned against the edge of the table so that Margaret was between them.

"Miss Hill." His voice was so very gentle it made Mia's throat thicken. "You know from the newspaper that your mother's house burned down last night."

Margaret looked up, her cheeks streaked. Her gaze locked onto Solliday's face. "It says… It says the police think she was murdered."

"She was, ma'am," Solliday said and Margaret began to cry again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just can't… My God. Oh, Mom."

Mia touched her hand. "Did she mention anyone or anything that worried her?"

Margaret visibly controlled herself. "Mom was a social worker. She took children from crackhead mothers and abusive fathers every week for twenty-five years."

"Did she worry about all those mothers and fathers?" Solliday asked.

"Not really. She worried sometimes about going into their houses. Once she was shot and she almost died. I was so happy she was retiring. I thought for once she could finally sleep at night."

"She wasn't sleeping? You said she didn't worry about the parents," Mia said.

"She didn't." Margaret's smile was hard and bitter. "She was so terrified she'd miss something. Miss a detail, and a child would get hurt. She used to wake up screaming. It got worse after she got shot. We'd thought we'd lost her then. I was only fifteen."

"What happened to the shooter?"

"He got jail time. He only shot Mom. He killed his wife."

"Is he still in jail?"

"I think so. They were supposed to tell us if he got out."

Mia noted it. "Miss Hill, did anyone else have a personal issue with your mother?"

Margaret nodded. Slowly. "My ex-husband wanted to kill her."

Solliday's brows lifted. "Why?"

"Because my mother finally convinced me to leave him. Two months ago I filed for divorce. Mom should have said 'I told you so." But she never did."

"Why did you leave him?" Mia asked and Margaret rolled up her sleeves. Solliday didn't quite manage to control his flinch. Small round scars were scattered up and down her arms. Cigarette burns. Mia pursed her lips briefly. "Okay. That answers that."

"Where is your ex-husband now, Miss Hill?" Solliday asked tightly. He was very angry, Mia could tell. But still in control. That was good.

"In Milwaukee."

Mia pulled Margaret's sleeves back down. "Your mother knew about the abuse?"

"I managed to hide it from her for a while. But she found out."

"So what did your ex-husband do when he found out you were gone?"

"Doug tried to push his way into Mom's house, but she threatened to call the cops and he left, cursing her. I was hiding in the back room the whole time. Looks like I ended up running from Doug just like I ran from Mom."

Solliday's brows crunched. "How do you mean?"

"Mom and I had a hard relationship. I think I married Doug just to punish her. High and mighty social worker, can't control her own kid. You can't possibly understand."

Mia thought about her own sister. I need to tell Kelsey what happened at Bobby's grave . "Yes, I can. We'll need your husband's full name and address."

Her jaw tight, Margaret wrote. "His last name is Davis. I hate that SOB."

"I can understand that, too," Mia said. She could feel Solliday's eyes watching her, looking deeper than she wanted him to see. It sent a prickling shiver down her spine. Steadfastly she focused on Margaret. "Miss Hill, does your ex-husband like animals?"

"No. He hates dogs. When I left, I took Milo to Mom's and… Oh, no. Is Milo alive?"

"He didn't appear to be in the house at the time of the fire," Solliday said.

Relief and confusion battled in her eyes. "Mom never let him out without his leash."

"We'll call you if we find him," she said. "Your brother is coming up tonight."

Margaret closed her eyes. "Oh, wonderful."

"You don't get along with your brother?" Solliday asked.

"My brother is a good man, but no, we don't get along. He warned me that one day I'd cause more trouble for Mom than she'd be able to clean up. I guess he was right. He usually is." She stood up unsteadily. "When can I see my mother?"

"You can't," Mia said gently. "I'm sorry."

Tortured emotion twisted the woman's face before she nodded and walked away.

"Well," Mia said. "Doug may be a spouse-abusing prick, but I don't think he did this."

"Me, either. But the sooner we rule him out, the sooner Margaret Hill can let go of some of her guilt." He checked his watch. "You can call Milwaukee PD while I drive."

Mia frowned. "Where are we going?"

"Back to the university. We still have to talk to Caitlin's friends. I called the housemother at the sorority house. She's going to have all the girls there at five thirty."

"When did you do that?"

"When you were asleep." He waved her quiet when she opened her mouth. "Don't say you're sorry. You were up all night. You tackled that guy yesterday and you should still be on disability. I think even you need to sleep, Mia."