Karen Rose - Count to Ten

That he spoke of his adoptive father was understood. "I thought you were a firefighter before OFI."

He crouched down to check out the bottom shelf. "I was. Being a firefighter was all I'd ever wanted to do. I applied for the academy the day after I got out of the army."

Well, the army explained his obsession with shiny shoes. "But?"

"But my dad encouraged me to get a degree while I was still young, before I had a family to take care of. So I went to school on my GI money full time until I was accepted into the academy and part time after that until I finished. Took me a bunch of years, but it was worth it." He looked up. "How about you?"

"Law Enforcement on a soccer scholarship. What are you looking for?"

"There are a couple different ways to get ammonium nitrate. One is in a bottle." He picked one up. "But this has its original seal and the inventory says they only had one."

"When was it delivered?"

"August, three years ago." He squinted at the label. "I"m really surprised a school this size has an inventory this extensive."

"The previous teacher left it behind. I haven't had to buy anything since I got here."

Mia turned to find the science teacher observing from a few feet away. "How long have you been teaching here?"

"About a year. I'm Mr. Celebrese."

"Dectective Mitchell and my partner, Lieutenant Solliday."

"You'll find the nitric acid in the locked cabinet, Lieutenant. Here's the key."

Mia passed it to Solliday, who checked it off. "I take it a second way to get ammonium nitrate uses nitric acid."

"Yeah, it does." Solliday checked the cabinet and locked it back. "Still sealed."

"We don't use a lot of the stronger chemicals here," Celebrese said.

"Afraid the kids will splash each other with acid?" Mia asked.

Celebrese's jaw went taut. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Solliday emerged from the closet the goggles still on his face. "Not yet." Ignoring Celebrese's scowl, Solliday walked to the far wall, to a booth with a glass front.

"Looks like a salad bar with an overactive sneeze guard," she said and he laughed.

"It's a hood. People use volatiles here because it's ventilated." He pulled out the sniffer he'd used to measure hydrocarbons at Penny Hill's house, pulled the glass window up a crack and slid the sniffer underneath. Immediately it began to squeal and Solliday smiled, a dark edgy smile that said he'd found what he was looking for.

"Jackpot," he murmured. "Celebrese, when was the last time you used the hood?"

"I-I've never used it. Like I said, I don't use strong chemicals."

Solliday pulled the window back down. "Detective, can you ask Sergeant Unger to come down here as quickly as possible? He'll want to take samples here."

Her smile was one of admiration and respect. "My pleasure, Lieutenant."

Behind the goggles his dark eyes flickered. "Thanks."

Wednesday, November 29, 5:00 p.m.

Reed came out of Interview to find Spinnelli, Westphalen, and state's attorney. Patrick Hurst, waiting on the other side of the glass. "You rang," Reed said.

In Interview, Manny sat slumped in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest. Mia sat on the boy's end of the table, crowding him, trying to bully Manny into offering details, hoping he would correct her mistakes. So far all she'd gotten was a bored look.

"That's him?" Spinnelli asked.

Reed nodded. "Manuel Rodriguez, fifteen."

"Who's the woman?" Patrick asked, referring to the wispy looking woman who sat at Manny's other side looking at turns angry and uncomfortable.

"His court-appointed advocate. We were shocked she let us go on this long."

"Our gain," Patrick said. "His history?"

"Manny's been at Hope for six months. Before that he bumed down his foster house. He used gasoline and a match, nothing sophisticated. His foster mother was seriously burned. He seems to have remorse for hurting her, but not for setting the fire."

"They searched his room last night?" Hurst asked. "And found matches?"

"Yeah. At first the matches was all they'd admit they'd found, but after we found the eggs, they admitted that they'd found his stash of reading material. How-to articles on arson, but all on liquid accelerants, like the right mix of gasoline and oil. None mentioned the plastic egg as a delivery device. None mentioned ammonium nitrate."

"Did they also find pornography?" Westphalen asked quietly, his eyes on the boy.

"Yes, but that wasn't a big surprise. It's common with arsonists," Reed told Hurst when the man's brows lifted. "Many arsonists start fires, then… gratify themselves."

"I get the picture," Hurst said dryly. "So did he do it?"

"I didn't think so the first time 1 talked to him, at the school." Reed shrugged uneasily. "I still don't. This boy loves the fire. Practically salivates when you show him pictures of burning buildings. If he started a fire, he would have stayed to watch it burn. I don't think he could have forced himself to run away. Also, I don't get the sense of fury in this kid. Manny hurting his foster mother seems to have been an accident."

"But our guy used gasoline on Caitlin Burnette," Spin-nelli pointed out.

"But pouring it on a person is different than on a floor," Reed countered. "Manny has no history of direct violence against people, just structures."

Spinnelli turned to Westphalen. "Miles, what do you think?"

"I'm inclined to agree. But first, do you have photos of the bodies, Lieutenant? I want to see his response to the results of his handiwork, if it is indeed his."

"Mia has them in her briefcase." It was in the chair next to her. "We didn't want to show him actual photos of the scene or the bodies without Patrick's okay."

Patrick considered for a moment. "Do it. I want to see his response, too."

Spinnelli tapped on the glass. Mia leaned closer, deli ver-ing a few more parting verbal shots. The boy continued to look bored, never breaking his disaffected pose.

"His fury's been pointed at women so far," Reed murmured. "We wanted to see if she could get a rise out of him. Intimidate him."

"But he's not taking that bait," Westphalen commented. "Another reason I'm inclined to agree with you."

Mia shut the door. "He's not budging, but I have his advocate shaking in her boots."

"What do you think, Mia?" Spinnelli asked.

"He's hiding something, I think. He's got motive and means-his history of arson possession of matches and all those how-to articles-but I still get stuck on opportunity. I mean, the kid's been in lockup. How the hell did he get out to kill Caitlin and Penny and if he could get out, why the hell did he bother to go back?"

She'd voiced this concern on the way back from the school and it was valid. Reed had given it a lot of thought, "If he found a way out, he might come back just because it's more convenient to do so. It's cold outside and Hope Center is warm and gives him three squares a day. He'd have his cake and eat it, too."

Mia's brows bunched as she considered it. "It's possible. I'll be more inclined to believe he's involved if we can tie him to Caitlin or Penny. So what now?"

"The doctor wants you to show Manny the photos of the bodies," Reed said.

"Okay, but you should go in. He talks to you. He just stares at my chest."

And for that, Reed thought, no man on the planet could blame the boy. "Anything special, Doc?"

Westphalen thought a second. "See if you can get him off his guard before you show the pictures. I don't want that bored look. He hides too much behind it."

"I'll try." Reed walked back into the interview room and closed the door at his back.

The advocate lifted her chin. "Manny is tired. He's told you what you want to know. When are you going to stop this nonsense and let him go back to Hope Center?"