owner of Tory’s, which was the building shown in the video left at the third crime scene. Full name Tory Marie Baltes. She had a son.” He waited for their nods before continuing. “See if you can track them down.”
“I can save you a bit of trouble there,” Risa spoke again. “I slipped away from the hospital long enough today to replace my phone.” She held one up, and Nate recalled that her old one, along with her computer and most of her personal belongings, would be toast after last night. The way she’d very nearly ended up herself. “Had some time on my hands so I did some searching online. I found an obituary for Baltes less than two years after the fire. Have already started tracking her family.”
Nate nodded. “So you two can take another task. I have a key found at Sherman Tull’s home that might fit a lockbox. You’ll check with the banks to see if it belongs to any of them. Tomey and Edwards, I’ve got a packet of photos up here. I want you to watch the footage we shot of the victims’ memorial services, see if you can pick out any of the people from these pictures.” He’d included photos of Sam Crowley, Javon Emmons, and Walter Eggers, as well as of Tull, Christiansen, and Randolph. A visit from one of the men who would later be victims might help prove a relationship between the men. “Mendall and Hoy, keep combing through the victim’s personal lives. With Randolph as the latest victim, there’s another intersection to look for.” He was very aware of Morales standing silently against the wall behind him. There would be no mention made at this time of the ID of PPD Sergeant Eggers as the man in the video. That he’d handle personally.
After he dismissed the team, he gave the packet to Edwards and turned to find Brandau and Morales speaking to Risa. When he joined them, Jett looked up. “I was just telling Risa I spoke to Bennett, the battalion chief of the fire station an hour ago. They’ve got a fire inspector coming in to work with them tomorrow. There was no sign of forced entry at the house.”
“There were three smoke alarms installed there.” Nate almost winced at the scratchy sound of her voice. It sounded as though it were painful to speak. “I never heard any of them.”
Jett hesitated. “Bennett said none had batteries in them.”
“They did.” Risa’s tone was emphatic. “I replaced them myself in the last month or so. It’s a small house. Even if one malfunctioned we should have been able to hear the other two.”
“Maybe your mom disconnected them,” Nate suggested, leaning against the wall facing her. “People do sometimes. Run out of batteries for something and take them out of the detectors, resolving to put them back later. And then they forget. It happens.”
She shook her head, unconvinced. Looked at Jett. “How does an arson investigation work? What will they look for?”
The man scratched his jaw. “The investigator will interview everyone. You. Your mom. The firefighters. He’ll want to know what you heard and saw. Appliances and wiring will be checked to see if there was a short or malfunction. The department will have taken pictures, and he’ll want to look at the burn patterns. Most accelerants will leave traces behind. Those can sometimes be picked up with a VTA machine.”
“So if someone started it, there’ll be trace evidence left behind.”
His pause had everyone looking at him. “Presumably,” he said finally. “But if an arsonist doesn’t want to leave a trace, he’ll use rubbing alcohol for the accelerant. The water used to fight the fire will wash it away.” With a quick look at Risa’s face, he hastened to add, “But burn patterns can still tell them quite a bit. You might want to check with your mom to see if and when she opened the windows. There were two opened on either side of the picture window in the front room, and one in the kitchen.”
When no one responded, he added, “Fires need oxygen. The open windows provided plenty of it.”
Chapter 17
Morales followed Risa and Nate back to Nate’s office. He waited until the door was closed behind them to ask, “Did you notice whether the windows were open last night?”
She made a beeline for her desk chair. It would be bad form to collapse on the job, but exhaustion from the night before was crowding in. Sinking into