Jan Hambright - On Fire

Kade watched her walk away and be helped into the backseat of a black-and-white, satisfied when it pulled away.

“Better get that knot looked at, buddy.” Nick Brandt moved up next to him.

“I’ll live. Why didn’t you clue me in about Dr. Dawson’s…interesting talent?”

Nick shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Do you remember that kidnapping case a couple of years ago, the little girl who went missing down in Mobile? Her kidnapper was in a car accident shortly after the ransom drop and died before he could tell us where the girl was?”

“Yeah, made the news in Chicago.” Kade fingered the back of his head, feeling for blood.

“Dr. Savannah Dawson found her.”

“No kidding…”

“From the station downtown. She’s the real deal, buddy. An honest-to-goodness, credible psychic.”

Kade sucked in a long breath and let it out, trying to get his head around the details. “Is that your only case?”

“There are dozens just like it. She’s my department’s secret weapon. I can’t disclose every case she’s worked. If the media got hold of it, we’d take a beating. We’re already being scrutinized on a daily basis. It’d be fuel on fire.”

“You’re right. And she said as much tonight. I got the impression she’s been ridiculed for her talent.”

“Yeah. This city’s got a knack for putting folks through the grinder for being different.”

Admiration stirred in his mind. Savannah Dawson was a survivor. He liked that.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“You said she grew up in Atlanta and moved here five years ago.”

“Yeah.”

“Where was she born?”

“She’s a native. Born right here in Montgomery.”

A chill screamed through his body, waking up a long buried memory.

“I’ve got to get down to the hospital, check on my mom. I’ll be back to have a look as soon as this mother cools off.”

“No problem. Maybe we’ll have some forensics on your assailant by the time you get back.”

Kade squeezed his cane and limped toward his car. Gritting his teeth, he climbed in and fired the engine.

He’d known Savannah Dawson once upon a time, as sure as he knew his own name. Now he had to confirm it.

Kade tried to force up the sliding glass door latch, but it was melted in place. It proved one thing. His mom had been locked out when the fire started.

Relief coursed through his veins as he turned back into the charred apartment where the arsonist had left his mark in the middle of the room. A point of origin that had dropped from the ceiling onto a tile. Too bad the intense heat had destroyed the incendiary device itself, leaving him little to go on.

Fear worked its way into his mind. His mother’s home had been targeted, but had she? Most firebugs didn’t give away get-out-of-fire-free cards or lock their victims out of a fire.

Don Watson from the crime lab entered the apartment with his kit. “Want that door?”

“Yeah. The lock mechanism is of particular interest. My mom claims when she tried it from the outside, it was locked. The fire started not long after that. I want to know if it failed, or if someone intentionally pushed the lever down.”

“You got it.”

Kade made his way through the apartment, flicking his flashlight beam over every inch. Most of the items he remembered from his childhood were here, covered with soot and water, a total loss.

Was Alice Decker the target or a random victim? Frustration threaded through him, stitching up a solution he could live with. He wouldn’t take risks with her safety; he wanted her to leave town, go to visit relatives, get as far away from Montgomery as she could until he figured this out and put the arsonist behind bars.

He paused at his mom’s bedroom door and shined the light inside. The beam swept across her bed, and surprise squeezed in his chest. He pulled the beam back to the bed where a long lump lay with the covers pulled over it. His mom’s full-length body pillow. A therapeutic apparatus she used to support her limbs when she lay on her side.

Had the arsonist mistaken the lump for Alice Decker?

Fear twisted around his nerves, giving voice to his self-doubt. He couldn’t afford to screw this up.

“Hey, Decker. The door’s open.”

Kade turned off his flashlight and returned to the living room. “What’s it look like inside?”

“Broken. When your mom closed it, the latch dropped, locking her out. It’s missing the spring that holds the latch up.”

“That failure saved her life. Whoever started this fire thought she was in bed. He or she had no way of knowing Mom was on the balcony when the fire took off. Let’s dust. Maybe a print survived the inferno, and I want to access the attic.”

“Will do.”

Kade leaned on his cane and took a deep breath, but he couldn’t relax, couldn’t pull it together when there was a maniac out there setting fires. But how was his mom involved? Was she a random target? In the right place at the wrong time?

He studied the burn pattern in the middle of the living room floor. “Did you find anything left here?”

“Nothing readily visible, but there was a clump of fibrous material.” Watson shuffled around in his collection kit and pulled out a clear plastic bag. “It could be part of the melted carpet, or the ceiling tile, but it stayed intact. I’m going to analyze it under the microscope, get a look at the weave pattern to determine what it is.”

Kade took the bag and held it up to the light coming in through the open sliding glass door. The clump of fiber was knitted together in a circular pattern.

“Looks like a filter.” He held the bag out for Watson to inspect.

Don turned on his flashlight and examined the evidence. “You’re right. It could be what’s left of a cigarette filter. That could be evidence of an incendiary device. I’ll run it through the tests, get something definitive.”

“Thanks.” Kade took one last look around the burned-out room and hobbled to the door. His hip was killing him. He needed to slam back a couple of pain meds to survive the afternoon.

The search warrant for Savannah Dawson’s house would be coming down within the hour, and he wanted to be there when it was executed.

SAVANNAH GLANCED UP from her notepad and considered the patient sitting across the desk from her, but her attention sagged as he blew his nose on a tissue.

“I’m sorry this upsets you, George, but you need to come to terms with the breakup. Once you let the painful memories go, you can begin to heal.”

“I know, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. She meant so much to me.”

She pushed the box of Kleenex toward him. He pulled out two more and dabbed at his nose.

Changing the subject might get them past George’s tearful stage, something that happened at the beginning of each session, but today it had gone on too long. She’d have to properly analyze it, maybe contact a colleague and get his take.

George had an extreme obsessive personality and trouble controlling his compulsions. It was one of the worst cases she’d ever encountered, but he was making progress, she thought.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s our time for today. Have Charlene make you an appointment for next week at our regular time, and I’m sorry I missed our 10:00 a.m. yesterday.”

He reluctantly got up from the chair. “I should come to see you more often.”

Savannah stood up. “More problems?”

He dropped his gaze, then looked up again. “I like you. You make me feel comfortable and understood. You’ve helped me get through this tough time in my life.”