Читать книгу: «On Fire»
Kade felt Savannah’s terror slam into him…
Before the choked notes of Savannah’s scream registered in his brain. He bolted, raced down the hall into the master bedroom. Wisps of steam clouded the air. He stopped short in the bathroom doorway, just as she pulled a towel from the bar and wrapped it around herself. Desire blazed through him like a blowtorch on high.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Kade followed Savannah’s gesture and focused on the bold letters on the shower door.
Etched on the glass and outlined in moisture was a message:
“BURNING FOR YOU.”
Savannah had become the next target….
On Fire
Jan Hambright
To the men and women who answer the page every day
at great risk to their own safety. Thank you.
To Peggy, Janis and Lynn, the brainstorm babes.
Thank you.
For my mom and Grandma. Wish you were here,
but I know you’re stuck in heaven.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jan Hambright penned her first novel at seventeen, but claims it was pure rubbish. However, it did open the door on her love for storytelling. Born in Idaho, she resides there with her husband, three of their five children, a three-legged watchdog and a spoiled horse named Texas, who always has time to listen to her next story idea while they gallop along.
A self-described adrenaline junkie, Jan spent ten years as a volunteer EMT in rural Idaho, and jumped out of an airplane at ten thousand feet, attached to a man with a parachute, just to celebrate turning forty. Now she hopes to make your adrenaline level rise along with that of her danger-seeking characters. She would like to hear from her readers and hopes you enjoy the story world she has created for you. Jan can be reached at P.O. Box 2537, McCall, Idaho 83638.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Kade Decker—An ex-fireman turned arson investigator, he barely survived a fire that killed the victim he was trying to rescue. Now back home in Montgomery, Alabama, he’s faced with a revenge arsonist’s rampage.
Savannah Dawson—Being psychic has always felt like a curse. But when a recurring nightmare drives her to one arson fire after another, she becomes Kade Decker’s prime suspect. Can she use her abilities to help him solve the crime?
Nick Brandt—Montgomery Police Department’s lead detective, and Kade’s college buddy.
George Welte—One of psychologist Savannah Dawson’s patients, his obsessive, pyro-personality seems highly suspicious.
Shane Murphy—He likes to watch. Likes to videotape the fires. But is it a crime?
Todd Coleman—Kade’s new next-door neighbor has always wanted to join the fire department.
Incident Commander Fisk—An old friend of Kade’s father, a Montgomery fireman before he died doing what he loved. Fisk is at every fire scene, giving the knock-down orders and keeping an eye on Kade.
Don Watson—A savvy forensic technician, and the man with the answers.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
Flames raged at the sky, reaching for the stars above, hazing them in a veil of thick black smoke.
Kade Decker trained his camera lens on the crowd behind a strip of yellow crime-scene tape, and clicked off a couple of shots.
He pulled back from the viewfinder and turned to watch the fire devour the vacant house, consuming the last of its corpse like a hungry animal, out of control.
Fire department practice burns drew pyromaniacs; he just hoped theirs decided to make an appearance tonight. He’d made sure the department publicized the information, hoping to capture an image he could use in his investigation.
Steam billowed into the air as the fire crew opened the valves on their hoses, turning water loose on the flames and ending their fiery feast.
He turned back to the crowd, which had begun to disperse, feeling some of their disappointment as they disappeared into the darkness one by one, their excitement put out along with the fire.
Raising the camera, he stared through the viewfinder and adjusted the focus.
The woman whose image he dialed in stood on the fringe of the scene, dressed in a long white gown.
Kade squeezed off a shot and lowered the camera, intrigued by her presence, dressed like an angel at such a hellish event.
“Hey, Decker.”
“Yeah.” He turned toward the fire chief.
“You get what you needed?”
“Let’s hope. This blaze drew some strange ones. Maybe we caught an image of our guy. We’ll compare these pictures with the police department videos. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Hope so.” The chief nodded and walked away.
Kade turned around, determined to speak to the woman. He scanned the remains of the crowd, but she was gone.
Disappointment rattled through him as he let the camera drop and hang from the strap around his neck. Squeezing the handle of his cane, he limped toward his car, anxious to get the pictures down to the station.
The Montgomery arsonist was still out there, burning, and he had to be stopped before someone died.
“BRING HER IN for questioning.” Kade leveled his gaze on Nick Brandt, Montgomery’s lead detective and his old college roommate. Tension wound around his nerves. He needed this job like he needed the air in the room.
“Do you want my expertise?”
“I won’t BS you, we need your help. The department is shorthanded. This heat wave is stretching services thin and the arson fires have everyone on edge.”
Kade refocused on the paused frame of video, studying the woman silhouetted against a wall of flame.
The woman in white…the same woman he’d taken photos of at the practice burn two nights ago. “Who is she?”
“Doctor Savannah Dawson. A local psychologist. The department has used her on some tough cases. She has a knack for finding the truth.”
“She works the mental angle?”
“You could say that.”
He didn’t like the embarrassed grin on Nick’s face or the feeling there was more to the story than he was willing or able to share.
“We did a background check going back ten years. She grew up in Atlanta, moved here five years ago. She’s a model citizen, well respected…”
“Beautiful.” Kade finished the sentence and felt a jolt of irritation rattle his nerves. “She’s a looker, but that’s not a perquisite for exclusion. How do you explain her presence in four pieces of department footage taken at the arson scenes, and again at the practice burn?”
“I can’t.”
“Then let me do my job. If she’s innocent, she’ll walk out of here. Take the first round of interrogation if it makes you feel better. I’ll watch, see what I can pick up.”
His friend straightened and he tapped him on the shoulder. “What’s the problem? You have a hot date with her, and handcuffs don’t go with your dinner jacket?”
Nick smirked. “Nah.”
“Too bad.” He watched his buddy leave the room and turned back to the TV screen. Pulling his tie loose from his shirt collar, he peeled the top button out of its loop, letting some heat out.
July in Montgomery was a scorcher and the heat wave showed no sign of letting up, but neither was the arsonist who’d set three fires in a week. Same MO, same general area.
The woman caught on video hovering nearby at every scene was a break he couldn’t afford to ignore. It was textbook, he could feel it in his bones. Arsonists enjoyed babysitting their creations. Was she any different? He’d have her confession before the day closed, then he could wrap things up. Put a notch in his belt, prove he was capable, again, and not just coasting on his father’s good name.
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.”
A smile tugged at his mouth, and she felt him mentally fight it. Humor as a weapon could work. Disarm? She doubted it. He was too intense, after one thing. The truth.
“Do you sleepwalk, Savannah?”
The question was silly, but the use of her name in his easy Southern drawl sent small shivers through her body. “No.”
“So how do you explain your presence at the scene? I have additional tapes with you on each and every one. Video doesn’t lie.”
He began to pace back and forth in front of the desk, each step accentuated by a slight hesitation before the next step followed. He’d been injured, somehow. She focused, picking up on a measure of the pain inside his body.
She got up from the chair, feeling less vulnerable to his power in a standing position. “If I had an explanation for being there, I’d share it with you, but I don’t.”
He pulled up short and turned on her.
She watched him clench his teeth, then relax, saw the minute beads of perspiration dotting his upper lip. A wisp of desire zinged through her, throwing her thoughts into a jumble. But were they her thoughts? Or his?
The desk offered a physical barrier between them, but she couldn’t shut out his mental chatter. She could feel his determination churning like an unrelenting sea against the rocks. Or was it desperation?
“You think I set those fires, don’t you?”
His gaze locked on to hers, warning, searching, penetrating. Her heart skipped a beat, and the air in the room thickened.
“You’re free to leave, Dr. Dawson, but there’ll be more questions, and a search warrant.”
Fear tickled along her spine. She raised her chin in defiance. “You can search until they hand out ice picks in hell. It won’t change a thing. I’m no arsonist.”
“Then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you? But if you’re lying, I won’t stop until I put you away.”
She could only stare at him from across the desk, feeling his certainty about her guilt. The sensation was crushing, powerful. Her emotions imploded.
“I’ll call my attorney.” She straightened and walked to the door with as much moxie as she could manage.
Detective Brandt showed up with a glass of water and a frown on his face.
She sidestepped him and moved into the hall, taking a couple of strides, but the men’s conversation radiated through the open doorway.
“What did you say to her, Decker?”
“Nothing really. She’s in a hurry, her ten o’clock is waiting.”
Savannah stopped short. Fear laced through her veins, but turned to curiosity. She hadn’t told him about her ten o’clock patient. Could the psychic connection she’d felt between them really work both ways?
She took off at a brisk walk, anxious to get as far away from Kade Decker as possible. As far away as physical movement would allow, but in her heart she knew she’d see him again…in her nightmare, chasing through the flames after her.
“I PRESSED HER about the fires.”
“And?”
“And, nothing.” Kade edged out into the corridor, hoping to catch another look at her. His nightie-clad fire angel was even hotter in the flesh, but she was long gone, a fact that intensified the hollow sensation in his chest.
He stepped back into the room, irritated with himself for going primal in the first place.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t cross your departmental line, but I’d bet she lawyers up.”
“Thanks. You’ve turned her into a hostile. Makes my job harder.”
“Take it easy. I like her for this, and if she’s our firebug, she’s just getting warmed up. It’s a compulsion that won’t be put out until she’s caught. Let’s get a search warrant. There’s enough probable cause, with the videos and her lack of a reasonable explanation for showing up on scene. I’d also like a copy of her juvenile file. I’ve got a hunch we’ll find something. This compulsion starts early.”
“You’re sniffing in the wrong direction. Her juvie file is clean. Checked it myself.” Nick shrugged his shoulders.
Kade studied his friend, and his hard-line attitude softened a bit. “It would be a shame to lock up a woman like that. She’s intelligent, easy on the eyes, has a sense of humor.” He paused. All attributes he admired in a woman, but a combination he’d yet to find in his thirty-four years of life.
“On that happy summation—” Nick smacked his shoulder “—I’ve gotta go. There’s a pile of reports on my desk that have to be processed, today, or the chief is going to blow a gasket. How about we get together tonight for a drink? We can ruminate over the reasons why neither one of us is holding the girl of our dreams.”
“I’d like that, but I know why I’m not holding mine.” He sobered. “Besides, I’m still helping my mom get settled in her new apartment.”
“Rain check then?”
“Yeah.” He stared after Nick and sank into the chair trying to make sense of the last half hour.
He’d felt a physical jolt when he’d touched Savannah Dawson’s hand, like making contact with a bare wire and having electricity burn through his body to the ground.
It hadn’t been an unpleasant sensation, but he wasn’t sure what it was.
And then there were her eyes—the eyes he’d somehow imagined were ice-blue were brown. The whole meeting was strange, but stranger still was the feeling of familiarity, as if he somehow knew her.
“Bunk.” He stood up, shaking off all the mumbo jumbo in his brain. He’d never seen her in his life. Besides, people were nothing but a compilation of facts. Nothing mystical, unworldly or unobtainable. He’d have the goods on Ms. Dawson. All of them. And when he did, she’d go down easy.
He stepped into the hallway, moving back to the watch room where he’d left his briefcase and cane. But before he reached the door, pain knifed into him, stealing his breath.
Sucking up against the wall for support, he waited for the pain to subside.
Taking a couple of deep breaths, he pushed away, gritted his teeth and put one foot in front of the other. He made it into the tiny cubicle, cursing the Chicago arsonist who’d destroyed his body and his life.
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