Jan Hambright - On Fire

He picked up the TV remote, but couldn’t kill the image. He studied her face, framed in waves of long, dark hair. She had a heart-shaped face and full lips. Slight, willowy build. Hell, she looked like an angel, in a devilish sort of way. He couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but he could almost imagine they were a heavenly shade of blue, though he didn’t know where the thought came from.

Moving up to the screen, he focused on her choice of clothing. It was the same nightgown, just like the one she’d been wearing when he captured her on film. He’d never spotted an arsonist in their pajamas, hanging out at the scene of the crime looking like some sort of guardian angel. It was a heck of an odd MO.

He pushed the button and she vanished.

Female arsonists were a rarity, but they did come along every now and again. He picked up his cane and briefcase, a small measure of excitement tumbling in his gut.

This was his first case. His first shot at a comeback. He couldn’t afford to blow it. Besides, the only good pyro was an extinguished pyro, even if catching him took second place to actually putting out the flames.

If they didn’t get you first.

He leaned on his cane, gritted his teeth and left the room, striding along the corridor to Interrogation, with its two-way mirror and closed in walls.

Pain radiated in his hip, putting a hitch in his step. He paused and opened the door into the tiny watch room.

It had been ten months since the accident. Twenty-eight weeks of grueling physical therapy, and still the pain was excruciating. It sawed into him every time he moved, but it wouldn’t break him; he wasn’t going to let it.

Nothing was going to stop him from doing this job.

Not even a sizzling pyro in her nightgown.

SAVANNAH DAWSON tried to relax in the hard plastic chair and focused her attention on the officer sitting across the table from her.

She’d met him briefly a couple of times in the course of working a case, but today was different; she could feel it in the air around her.

Nervous energy jumped and bumped along her spine, but she held direct eye contact, a slight smile on her lips. She even resisted the overwhelming urge to glance at her watch. Her ten o’clock appointment would be walking into the clinic right now, and the sooner she took care of this the better.

“What’s this about, Detective Brandt? Has there been some sort of accident? Do you have one of my patients in lockup, needing evaluation?”

“No, no. Nothing like that, but I would like to know where you were last night, between midnight and 2:00 a.m.?”

“Sleeping.” She shifted under his intense gaze, hoping her answer hadn’t sounded curt.

“There was another arson fire last night. A residence on Catalpa Street. We took video, and you’re in it. Want to tell me what you were doing there?”

“But, I wasn’t there. I was at home, in bed. There must be some mistake.” Caution inched along her nerves. She didn’t need a map to see where he was trying to take her. “Did you speak to me personally?”

“No.”

“There you have it. I’m not the only brunette in Montgomery.”

“I’ve seen the video. It’s you.”

“I went to bed around 10:00 p.m. last night, and woke up this morning at six. It’s crazy to think I could have been there without knowing or remembering.”

He nodded, a fixed smile on his lips. “You’re right. And you’d know crazy if you came across it. Would you like to see the video?”

“I’ll take a look. Maybe I can help you decipher who she is.”

Nick Brandt stood up. “It’s an open investigation, Doctor Dawson. We need to follow every lead and nail this firebug before he hurts someone.”

“I understand. Forget it. They say everyone has a twin somewhere in the world. Maybe mine just happens to live in Montgomery.” She stood up and gathered her handbag, her gaze drifting to a large mirrored wall in the room. It looked like something straight out of an episode of Law & Order, but the vibes coming from the other side were real.

Someone was watching her.

She could feel him behind the glass, knew their exchange of words was being scrutinized, dissected and worse. Disbelieved?

“It’s down the hall in the video room.”

She fell in behind the detective, the weight of the observer’s thoughts trailing along with her. She resisted the urge to shake them off. It wouldn’t do any good; they’d only come back, and stronger next time.

Her psychic gift was expanding, shifting, had been for the last three weeks, but she didn’t want to know the feelings and emotions of others. She didn’t enjoy picking up on information that didn’t belong to her, or in her head, for that matter.

Then there was the recurring nightmare…

“The video was taken last night around 1:00 a.m.”

She followed him into a small, windowless room with minimal furniture and aged blue carpet.

He picked up a remote and turned on the television in the corner. “The fire is similar to two others. All of them were set using the same MO.”

A paused video clip popped on screen.

She blinked hard, trying to reconcile the image and the sick feeling tossing around in her stomach. “It’s me…but I don’t understand…”

He was coming…the hunter was coming. Moving in on her like a lion on a kill. The man she’d felt X-ray her soul. Had he discovered her secret?

Her palms became slick, her heartbeat intensified until it throbbed in her eardrums.

“Doc? Are you all right?”

“It’s so hot in here.” She pulled at the front of her blouse, sending little puffs of air against her inflamed skin.

“The AC’s on the fritz. Sorry. Can I get you some water?”

“That would be nice. Thanks.”

He left the room, but nothing was going to extinguish the growing heat in her body. She closed her eyes, her back to the open door. She didn’t have to see the man to know he was there.

Like a frame of film in her head, she recorded the exact instant he appeared, standing in the doorway, his shoulder against the jamb, appraising her with an electric gaze that zapped her. She went weak in the knees, but regained her composure.

“Doctor Savannah Dawson, I presume?” His voice was deep and smooth.

She sucked in a breath, gathered her courage and turned around. “Yes.”

Her mental picture of his face matched the physical one she found herself staring at now. Every detail was seared into her brain. His angular face, straight nose, almost black hair, cut short, and his eyes, an intense shade of hazel flecked with gold.

It was the face of the man she’d seen over and over…in her nightmare.

“Kade Decker, Montgomery’s newest arson investigator. Just in from Chicago.” He extended his right hand while he moved toward her.

In slow motion she reached out, intent on holding her ground. He may rule her nights, but this was daylight.

Their hands locked for an instant. Skin on skin.

A current of electricity shot up her arm and sizzled through her body.

Jerking free of his grip, she pinned a smile on her lips, but she knew he’d felt it to. She’d seen it in the brief widening of his eyes, a look of shock smoothed over.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Decker.”

“Call me Kade.”

“Okay.” She couldn’t do it any longer. She couldn’t stand toe-to-toe with him, not when he seemed to suck the energy out of her body, leaving her feeling like a rag doll. She sank into the chair next to the desk.

What was it about him? What connection could they possibly share?

“Detective Brandt showed you the video. Can you explain it?”

She dragged her gaze away from his face and looked at the television screen.

“It’s me. As for an explanation for how and why I’m there, I don’t have one. I don’t remember leaving the house last night, much less warming myself next to a fire without a roasting skewer and a bag of marshmallows.”