The Arsonist Read online

  She squared her shoulders. “You are the last person I’d ever ask for help.”

  Stephen grinned. “Never say never, Darcy.” He strode out of the tavern leaving her seething.

  She released a breath when the back door slammed closed. “It’s beyond me what I ever saw in that man.”

  Nathan lifted an amused eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you and Glass were an item?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. “I only know the guy from television but it doesn’t take much to realize that his number one priority is ratings.”

  “Tell me about it.” She shrugged off her anger, refusing to let Stephen steal another minute of her day. “Thank you. I’d never have gotten rid of him if you hadn’t showed up.”

  “No problem.”

  “So what brings you here?”

  Nathan’s stance was relaxed now. He wore his customary button-down shirt and khakis. Not a hair out of place. “Just wanted to let you know I’d be out of town for a few days.”

  “Oh, where are you headed?” She tried to sound interested but her thoughts drifted back to what Stephen had said.

  “Down to North Carolina. There’s some property on the coast that I might be interested in developing.”

  She willed herself to smile. “Hey, well, good luck. Maybe by the time you get back, we’ll have this Nero mess sorted out.”

  Nathan frowned. “Somehow I don’t think that is going to happen. Nero strikes me as very clever.”

  “Even clever people slip up.”

  “Gannon didn’t catch him in D.C.”

  She found herself rising to Gannon’s defense. “He’s learned a few things since then. Nero won’t get out of this one alive.”

  Nathan hesitated. “I heard what Glass said. What if he is right? What if Gannon is Nero?”

  “He’s not.” The force behind her words made her sound more defensive than self-assured.

  Nathan nodded. “I like Gannon, Darcy, but the truth of the matter is that I don’t know him all that well.”

  “You two are friends.”

  “We’ve known each other a couple of years, swapped a few drinks and stories. But I can’t tell you what makes the man tick.”

  “He’s not Nero.”

  He laid his hand on her shoulder. “I like you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

  A chill snaked her spine. “I’ll be fine.”

  Chapter 14

  Nathan had not been gone five minutes when a courier arrived at Darcy’s back door with a letter. “Darcy Sampson?” he asked.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve got a note here from a Mr. Gannon. If you’ll just sign here.” He held out a pen and shoved a release slip toward her.

  She studied the manila folder. “Why would he send a courier to deliver a letter to me?”

  The courier scratched behind his ear. “Hey, lady, I don’t know. I just need for you to sign the release form so I can get going. I got three other packages to deliver by noon.”

  She signed the form and took the envelope. She went to her purse to get a tip but he held up his hand. “Already been taken care of.”

  She smiled at Gannon’s thoughtfulness.

  When the courier left, she opened it. Darcy, I know who Nero is. Meet me at the Riverton Baptist Church in an hour.

  She folded the note over and deepened the crease with her fingertip. In an hour. Why hadn’t he told her who Nero was? Why the secrecy?

  She had just enough time to go upstairs and check in on her mother. All the problems she and her mother had had over the years paled to this. Her mother, who’d seem so strong, now needed protection as if she were a child lost in the woods.

  Nero was not going to destroy her family.

  The end of the game was coming so fast that Nero had mixed emotions. Though he was eager to see how the story would play out, he was also sorry to see it end. Like a good book or a fine wine, he’d savored every bit, every sip.

  He pulled out a book of Rome matches and ran his thumb over the raised gold lettering as he checked his watch. Any minute now, Darcy would be coming out of the tavern.

  Three minutes later, she emerged right on time. She’d changed into jeans, a clean white shirt and she’d pulled her curls into a ponytail. She looked lovely.

  He watched Darcy leave the tavern and climb into her black Corolla. She headed north toward Riverton Baptist Church.

  There was so much to like about Darcy Sampson.

  Smart, funny, bright, she had a lot to offer a man.

  Too bad, she’d be dead in an hour.

  Larry swung by the garage just after eleven o’clock. Gannon looked up from his files, annoyed at the interruption. He’d just returned from what remained of the apartment building. The investigators had found traces of accelerant that had been stockpiled in Trevor’s apartment. They’d also gained access to his safety deposit box and found an envelope containing newspaper clippings that not only detailed the Preston Springs fires but the D.C. ones, as well. However, they hadn’t found Trevor’s body. He was out there somewhere, alive.

  Chief Wheeler and the other men were convinced that Trevor was their man, but Gannon was not sure of anything. This all reminded him too much of last year.

  He’d just returned and planned to look over his files again. He knew in his gut that he was overlooking something. Something, like a forgotten name, was on the tip of his tongue.

  “Gannon, you busy?” Larry asked, flashing his easy grin.

  “Yeah.”

  Larry’s gaze skimmed the files spread out on the workbench. “Well, I’ll be quick.”

  Gannon considered tossing him out but decided to hear him out. Hammering away at these files certainly wasn’t solving anything right now. “What do you need, Larry?”

  “Got this lead on a motorcycle. An Indian. Vintage. Very sleek. The seller only wants three grand for it.”

  “And?”

  “It’s not exactly running.”

  “Kind of a sticking point in my book.”

  “I was hoping you’d come with me to have a look at it, maybe give me an idea of what it would cost to fix it.”

  “Can’t do it today.”

  “Oh hey, no problem. The guy said he was in no rush. The guy lives in Charlottesville, not more than an hour from here.”

  Likely this guy had no buyers. Fixing an old bike wasn’t cheap. “Great.”

  Larry reached in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped out a single and put it in his mouth. “Are you still working on this fire thing?”

  Fire thing. Gannon wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be angry with Larry. The guy had reduced the decade’s most notorious arsonist to a trivial blip.

  “Yeah.”

  Larry shrugged as he rooted in his pockets for a pack of matches. He came up empty in the first two. “Saw that Glass guy on TV. You think Trevor did it?”

  “No.”

  “The guy is a mess but I don’t think he’d set fires.” From his back pocket he pulled out a pack of matches.

  Gannon was only half paying attention to Larry as he pulled out a match, struck it, and lit the tip of his cigarette.

  However the smell of the smoke had him looking up. He’d been dying for a cigarette all morning. “Can I have one of those?”

  Larry pulled out the pack of Marlboros and tossed them to Gannon. “Thought you gave it up.”

  He pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth.

  “I did.”

  Larry tossed the matches in his right hand a couple of times before he opened the flap and pulled out a match. As he raised the flame to Gannon’s cigarette, the flicker of the book’s red cover caught Gannon’s eye.

  Gannon blew out the match, pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and took the match from Larry. Rome matches. His blood ran cold. “Where did you get these?” Gannon’s voice was little more than a hoarse whisper as he
stared down at the red pack. For a moment his heart pounded in his chest and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Larry couldn’t be Nero.

  Larry sniffed. “I don’t know. Around. I’m always losing matches, people are always giving them to me.”

  Gannon prayed for patience. “It’s important, Larry. I need you to think. Think hard.”

  Larry cracked his knuckles. “Well, I’ve bummed matches off a couple of folks lately. There was the waitress at the truck stop outside of Richmond. The diner in Roanoke and Nathan gave me a pack the other night.”

  “Nathan? I didn’t think he smoked.”

  “Yeah. I never figured him for a smoker either, but he confessed he likes a cigar now and then.”

  He ran his thumb over the pack of matches. Nathan had lived in D.C. during the last set of fires. Darcy had said there’d been similar fires in Dallas and Detroit over the last year.

  Without a word to Larry, he went upstairs to his computer and Googled Braxton Development, Nathan’s employer. The link to the company’s Web site came up—in fact Nathan was profiled under the Property Manager button.

  Nathan had worked for them as a property manager for twenty years. His projects had won building and design awards and he was considered one of the top executives in the company.

  Gannon clicked Developed Properties. The list that appeared included properties in New York, Washington, San Francisco, Detroit and Dallas—with a new site planned for North Carolina. He’d bet his last dollar there were unexplained fires that matched Nero’s MO in the other cities, as well.

  For a moment, his mind raced and he couldn’t think. Nathan was Nero.

  He thought back to their first meeting at the gym. Nathan had sought him out. He’d been the one to strike up the friendship.

  The more he thought about it the more it made sense. Nathan had sought him in D.C. Nathan had looked him up in Preston a month ago. Nathan had made friends with Chief Wheeler and he loved to hear stories about fires.

  “You all right, man?” Larry asked from the doorway. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

  “I have.” He reached for the telephone and called the chief.

  “Gannon, what’s up?” the chief said.

  Gannon detailed his theories to the chief. “He needs to be picked up.”

  “Damn, he’s a respected member of the community. The Braxton property is a huge boom to economic development.”

  Gannon’s fingers tightened around the receiver. “Chief, Nathan is Nero. And if we don’t move quickly, we are going to lose him.”

  Chief Wheeler was silent. “I’ll have the police put out an APB on him. We’ll bring in him for questioning.”

  Relief washed over Gannon. “Great. Thanks.”

  Larry scratched his head over the conversation he’d just heard. “Damn, you sure about all this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Too bad, I liked that guy.”

  Bitterness rose in his throat. “He’s a likable guy.” He rose. “I’ve got to find Darcy.”

  “Oh yeah, right. She’ll be glad to hear all this.”

  “Lock up on your way out.”

  “No problemo.”

  Gannon hurried down the stairs and across the street. Darcy needed to know—not only for Trevor’s sake, but also for her own. As likable as Nathan Collier could be, Nero was a cold-blooded killer who could easily turn on her just for the sport of it.

  He crossed the street and went to the tavern’s front door. It was locked so he jogged around to the back alley door. The door was open and inside the kitchen there was a man standing by the island chopping up mounds of vegetables. Darcy had mentioned a cook named George.

  “You George?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Have you seen Darcy?” Gannon asked.

  The man looked at him briefly and then returned to his work. “She was rushing out of here when I arrived. Said she’d be back in a couple of hours.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  George looked annoyed. “Said she was going to meet you.”

  His gut tightened. “Me? We had no meeting.”

  “Look, I ain’t no social director. I don’t know where she is. You two need to get your own schedules straight.”

  Gannon walked over to George, took the knife from him and drove it into the counter next to the cook’s hand. “You have no idea where she went?”

  The irritation in George’s brown eyes vanished when he locked gazes with Gannon. “She left a note on the bar for her mother.”

  Without a thanks, Gannon hurried into the tavern. On the bar was the note. He opened the letter. If he was wrong, he’d apologize later.

  Mom,

  I’ve gone to meet Gannon at the Riverton Baptist Church. I’ll be back in time for dinner. Don’t worry about Trevor. It’s all going to be fine. Gannon and I are going to prove that he didn’t do any of this. Love, Darcy.

  Gannon crumbled the note in his hand. Riverton Baptist Church. Damn! Nero was going after Darcy.

  “George!” he shouted, racing into the kitchen.

  “Now what do you want?” he asked setting his knife down.

  “Do you know where the Riverton Baptist Church is?”

  “Sure. It’s about ten miles from here out on 250.”

  “On the way to Gully’s?”

  “Just past it on the right.”

  Sweat trickled down his spine. “Call the fire department and the cops and tell them I said to get there as fast as they can. And call the church and tell them to clear the building.”

  “What for?”

  “Do it!” he shouted, already turning toward the door. He raced across the street and hopped on his bike, praying he wasn’t already too late to save Darcy.

  Darcy entered the small church twenty minutes later. She’d first been in this church when she was a kid. Her mother had brought food for a Christmas food drive. She remembered the visit because it was one of the few days she and her mother had spent alone, away from her father, Trevor and the tavern. That day her mother had bought her a piece of stick candy and they’d gone to the drugstore and looked at makeup.

  On that long-ago day, the church had been full of people and alive with activity. The choir’s loft in the back of the sanctuary had been full of carolers. Children had run down the center aisle laughing as an army of women organized food baskets on temporary tables set up in the front of the church.

  Now the place was eerily quiet. The overcast sky blocked most of the sun that should have been streaming through the tall, clear windows flanking the sides of the church. The overhead lights were off, save for the dim beam shining down on a large white cross, which hung above a simple altar.

  Darcy walked down the center aisle past the twenty rows of wooden pews. This didn’t feel right.

  “Gannon?” Her voice bounced off of the white walls. “Gannon? Where are you?”

  As she moved closer toward the altar, an odor drifted out toward her. One deep breath told her what it was—gasoline! She stopped by the first row of pews.

  “Gannon!” In the answering silence she heard only her heartbeat. And then she heard a faint rustling sound.

  “Darcy.” The weak, slurred voice came from behind the altar.

  She moved closer. “Trevor?”

  “Darcy.”

  She raced around the altar. There she found Trevor slumped forward. He reeked of whiskey and his clothes were covered in soot.

  Darcy knelt beside her brother. She cupped his chin in her hands and raised his face. “Trevor!” He could barely open his eyes, as he mouthed her name. Panic ignited in her. She’d never seen him this incapacitated.

  “Oh God, Trevor, what have you done to yourself?”

  He slowly shook his head. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t set the fire.”

  “Trevor, there is a mountain of evidence against you. The police are looking for you.”

  With seemingly great effort, he opened his eyes. “I didn’t do it.”<
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  Darcy believed her brother. “I know.”

  As he slumped forward into unconsciousness, a distant sound caught her attention. It sounded like the roar of a wave rolling under her feet.

  The hairs on the back of Darcy’s neck rose. The noise grew louder as if a sleeping giant had awoken. It was then that she smelled smoke and noticed the ghostly wisps rising from the air vents in the corner.

  The basement beneath them was on fire.

  Her hands trembling, she wrapped Trevor’s limp arm around her neck. “Trevor, we’ve got to get out of here right now.”

  Trevor moaned but didn’t open his eyes. He pushed her hand away as if he only wanted to sleep.

  “Trevor!” she shouted. “Get up!”

  He rolled his head from side to side. “Go away, Darcy. Let me sleep a few more minutes.”

  She smacked him hard across the face. “Get up!”

  Sharp pain opened his eyes. “Leave me alone!”

  Darcy tugged him up. “The building is on fire. We are going to die if we don’t get out of here right now.”

  Underneath her feet, she felt the rumble of the fire. It was growing, eating through the building inch by inch.

  Where was Gannon?

  The back door to the church opened.

  Sunlight streamed through the door, shadowing the face of the tall figure standing at the back of the church. “Gannon!”

  “Sorry, babe,” Stephen said stepping forward.

  “But will I do?” He laughed.

  At this point Satan would have been welcome. “I need help with Trevor.”

  Stephen started down the aisle. “Trevor is up there?” His tone was lean and hungry. Darcy knew he tasted headlines.

  “Yes, and he’s not moving.”

  “I knew it!” he shouted. “I knew if I followed you, you’d lead me to the story.”

  For once she was grateful for Stephen’s blind ambition. “I need help getting him out of the church. The basement is on fire.”

  Stephen stopped midway up the aisle. He glanced down at his feet as if he expected the floor to crumble beneath him. “Damn. Did Trevor set the fire?”