Karen Rose - Count to Ten

"Technology is a beautiful thing," she agreed as he pulled into a visitor's space. "Adler's got a clean sheet. She doesn't seem like a likely arson suspect."

"Agreed. But she knows something. Or thinks she does."

"Agreed. If she'd set the fire, I think she'd look satisfied, but she just looked guilty."

"The fact that she works with delinquent kids is as good a tie as any so far."

"Our arsonist isn't a novice. You said so yourself. Could he really be a kid?"

"I said his fire-setting methods were sophisticated. I don't think he's a little kid. A teenager would certainly fit the profile." He angled his head. "What's wrong, Mia?"

She met his eyes, troubled. "Penny Hill was burned alive. On purpose."

"And part of you doesn't want to believe a kid is capable of that," he said quietly. "While the other part knows better."

She nodded, the truth of it a bitter taste in her mouth. "That about sums it up."

He lifted a shoulder, sympathetic. "We could be wrong."

"I hope not. It's the first real lead we've gotten." She slid to the ground. "Let's go."

She walked through the school door he held open, thinking she could get used to somebody like Reed Solliday. Doors, chairs, coffee. She was getting spoiled.

A woman sat behind the glass. Her badge said she was Marcy. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Detective Mitchell and this is Lieutenant Solliday. We've already provided ID to your security guard at the gate. We'd like to speak with Miss Adler, please."

"I'm afraid she's in class right now. May I take a message?"

Mia smiled obligingly. "You may not. You may tell her to come talk to us right now."

A man appeared to their left. "I'm Dr. Bixby, director of Hope Center. Can I help?"

Mia distrusted him at first sight. "Only to assist us in speaking to Miss Adler. Now."

"Marcy, arrange for coverage in Miss Adler's room. Come with me." He led them to a small room, spartanly furnished. "You can wait here. It will be more private than the lobby. As her employer, I have to ask. Is Miss Adler in some kind of trouble?"

Mia kept smiling. "We just want to talk to her."

Uncertainly the man closed the door, leaving them alone with an old desk and two worn chairs. The single window was covered with black bars. It was what it appeared to be- a prison for bad kids. "I always wonder if they've got places like this bugged."

"Then let's ask her to step outside," Solliday said simply and Mia looked up at him.

"No 'Don't be so paranoid, Mitchell'?" she asked.

"Does Abe say that?"

"No, never. He just flips a coin to choose lunch. Heads is good. Tails is vegetarian."

He paced the length of the small room and once again she was taken with the fluid grace with which he moved. A man his size should look cramped and out of place in a room this small. Instead, he moved like a cat, balancing on the balls of his feet. Graceful, but… restless. "I take it you're not taken with vegetarian fare," he murmured.

"No. We were a meat and potatoes family."

He'd stopped at the window and now stood looking between the bars, his expression pensive. "So were we, after."

His mood had altered dramatically in the minutes they'd been here. "After what?"

He threw a look over his shoulder. "After I went to live with the Sollidays."

The look was a guarded one that warned her to proceed cautiously. "They adopted you out of the foster care system?"

He nodded, turning back to the window. "I'd been in four homes before they took me in. I'd run away from the last two. I was too close to being sent to a place like this."

"Then we owe the Sollidays a great deal," she said softly and watched him swallow.

"Yes, we do." He turned and sat on the arm of one of the chairs. "I do."

"Sometimes there's a fine line between going good and going bad. One good experience, one kind soul can make all the difference in the world."

One side of his mouth lifted. "I still think good people deal and bad people don't."

"Way too simple. But we'll save that debate for another day. Somebody's coming."

The door opened and Mia found herself looking at the woman from the video. She was very young. "Miss Adler?" she asked and the woman nodded, eyes wide. Scared.

Adler stepped into the room, Bixby behind her. "Yes. What can I do for you?"

"I'm Detective Mitchell and this is my partner, Lieutenant Solliday. We'd like to talk to you," Mia said evenly. "Would you step outside with us?"

Bixby cleared his throat. "It's cold, Detectives. We'd be more comfortable in here."

"I'm not a detective," Solliday inserted smoothly. "I'm a fire marshal."

The color drained from Adler's face and Bixby looked down at her with a frown. "Miss Adler, what's happened?"

She clenched her hands together. "Did Bart Secrest talk to you yesterday?"

Bixby's mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. "What have you done, Miss Adler?"

It was a not-so-subtle move to distance himself from his employee. Flinching, Adler moistened her lips. "I just went to see one of the houses in the articles. That's all."

Mia took a step forward. "Um, hello? We'd like to know what's going on here, now."

Dr. Bixby leveled Mia a stern look that she imagined would have reduced the trembling Miss Adler to tears before briskly moving to the telephone on the wooden desk. "Marcy, can you call Bart and Julian? Have them meet us in my office right away."

"Miss Adler, we'd like to talk to you alone, first," Mia insisted. "We won't be long. Although we'd be happy to wait while you get a coat." She held the door open, ignoring the director who'd opened his mouth, but closed it without saying a word.

Adler shook her head. "No, I'll be all right."

Wednesday, November 29, 1:25 p.m.

He could see the parking lot from the window. He stood there now, watching as three people left the building to stand in the sun. Two had gone in. A woman and a man. The woman was Detective Mia Mitchell. He recognized her from her picture in the paper. The man then could only be Lieutenant Solliday. His heart would continue to beat normally. He would not lose his head.

They were talking to Brooke Adler, because she'd gone to the fire scene, the idiot. Not because they knew anything.

They had nothing. No evidence. No suspects. So there was no reason to fear. They could search the whole school and find nothing, because there wasn't anything here. He smiled. Except me .

Mitchell and Solliday would have their little talk with Adler, learn what everyone else already knew-the new English teacher was an insignificant, air-headed little mouse. With, he had to admit, exceptional breasts. He'd often had thoughts about her body-enjoying it, even allowing her to enjoy it. But now, all that would have to change. At least the part about her enjoying it. For bringing them here, she'd have to pay.

But the fun would need to wait. Right now there were cops on the property. But they wouldn't stay long. When they were satisfied there was nothing here, Mitchell and Solliday would leave. And I'll go on . Tonight he'd finish Mrs. Dougherty. He was already getting excited thinking about the new challenge.

But again, the fun would need to wait. Right now, he had someplace to be.

Wednesday, November 29, 1:25 p.m.

Brooke willed her teeth not to chatter as the cop looked her up and down scathingly.

"You were at our crime scene yesterday evening," she began sharply. "Why?"

"I…" She wet her lips and felt them burn dry from the cold air. "I was curious."

"Are you nervous, Miss Adler?" the fire marshal asked gently. Brooke didn't watch much television, but she'd seen enough to know the man was the good cop. The small, blonde woman played the bad cop very well.

"I haven't done anything wrong" she said, but she sounded guilty, even to her own ears. "If you'd go inside, we can explain everything to you."