LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

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.”

      “Two hours a week is sufficient. You’re making wonderful progress.”

      George Welte nodded his head, moseyed to the door and gave her one last glance over the top of his thick glasses before he slid out of the room, closing the door behind him.

      Savannah sat back down in her chair, her mind absent. She was no good to her patients or herself in this state. Since surrendering her nightgown, robe and slippers at the police station last night, she hadn’t been able to get Kade Decker off her mind. He was like a CD looped out on the same song, and she couldn’t stop playing him. Then there was the search warrant, probably being executed at this very moment. A physical manifestation of his mental determination to prove her guilt.

      She chewed her bottom lip and considered what they’d find. Lighter fluid was a given. In the garage, outside on the patio next to the barbecue. Nothing could be read into it; half the residents of the city could be suspects if he chose to focus on lighter fluid.

      Fear raked her nerves. She’d felt his determination, been infused with his surety of her guilt, but there was a boundary there, too. A level of integrity that encompassed everything he said and did. She’d just have to let the lack of evidence confirm it for him.

      She stood up and gazed out the third-story window at the rear parking lot below.

      The heat outside was suffocating, the index off the charts. A watery sheen of vapor flamed up from the asphalt.

      She watched George Welte walk to his red Mercedes coupe, climb inside and drive away.

      If only she could shut Kade out, turn off the receptors inside her head, maybe she could get some peace. Her only other option was to deal with it. Figure it out. Find the catalyst for their connection. It had to be buried somewhere in the past. Maybe it was time for a resurrection.

      She pushed the button on her intercom. “Charlene? Could you come in here for a moment?”

      The door pushed open and her secretary entered.

      “What’s my afternoon look like?”

      “You’ve got a three o’clock and a five.”

      “Call them and reschedule for next Monday.”

      “Sure.” Charlene disappeared back into the outer office, leaving her with a tangle of thoughts to sort out.

      She’d never shared a psychic bond like the one she was currently sharing with Kade Decker. But how had it happened? She’d never met him before yesterday, and suddenly they were locked in some sort of cosmic union. Fused in thought and feeling, while he sucked the energy from her body every time they touched.

      “Damn.” She was beginning to scare herself, and just when she thought she had this psychic thing wired, laced up in a neat little package that she could control and understand.

      She plopped into her chair, rocked back, closed her eyes and concentrated, practicing a form of self-hypnosis she’d shared with many of her patients.

      Like a silent movie playing in her

Скачать книгу