Scrubbing his hand over his face, squinting his tired eyes shut for a moment, Sean heaved a great sigh. “So, basically, we’ve got a whole bunch of nothing.”
“That’s what makes these fuckers so hard to find.”
An exasperated chuckle erupted from deep within his chest, and he shook his head. “Tell me again why we became arson detectives.”
“Fuck if I know. At least you came by it honestly with your dad being in the FBI. Hell, my dad was a drunk who spent more time in the tank than at home.” Blowing out a breath, he added, “Thank God for the Army, right? Straightened my ass out.”
They sat in silence for another moment before Sean looked down at the open folders on his desk. “Okay, let’s go back over this shit. What is this guy’s motive? We know why firebugs have to set fires, so what can we rule out with this guy?”
“Crime concealment. That’s what homicide is looking at with the Treyson murder. But that’s not our guy. Extremism? Nah. He’s not targeting any social or political cause. Profit? No, again. He doesn’t own these buildings.”
“Okay, that’s three out of the way,” Sean said. “Could be vandalism, but that’s usually young people and with accelerants that are easy to get hold of. I’d say we're looking at excitement or revenge.”
Jonas pinned him with a hard stare. “What does your gut tell you?”
“Revenge. Almost like he’s taunting us, but still, it’s motivated by his anger over something. He leaves a small pile of non-descript rocks at the sites, but nothing else to go on. It’s his personal calling card but who the fuck knows what it means.”
He shifted forward in his chair. “So, I keep going back to the carbon disulfide. I’ve contacted many of these chemical companies, asking them to provide information on customers in this region. Several of them have responded with a few names for us to check out. A few of the companies will only sell to someone who has a business license, but I don’t want to rule them out, so I’m having them send me any local businesses that have ordered it. One of the companies refuses to give out any information on their customer list without a warrant, and the others I’m waiting on. Let’s crosscheck the names from your list with the names on my list and see if we get anything.”
“Works for me,” Jonas agreed, spreading papers across both of their desks
“I don’t know why I let you talk me into coming here,” Harper said, walking into The Celtic Cock with Sandy.
“Because when we talked, you said you’d had a crappy day at work, and I hated the idea of you going home with no company other than grumpy Smokey.”
Harper shot a glare at her friend. “Hey, my cat’s not grumpy!”
Sandy grinned. “Your cat only likes you. Well, maybe he likes Daniel also.”
“He’s just misunderstood,” Harper exclaimed, still defending her cat.
“You came!”
Looking to the other end of the bar, she spied Bill standing with a few other firefighters. Harper followed Sandy, who managed to dart amongst the crowd in spite of her diminutive size. Two of the firefighters slid off their stools, offering them to the women.
Sandy, smiling her brilliant cheerleader smile, allowed one to assist her up, while Harper rolled her eyes at her friend. Hefting her own booty onto the bar seat, she rested her left arm on the bar.
Bill slid around to her side, his gaze on her splint. “How are you doing?” Glancing to the side toward his friends, he said, “She had a little accident yesterday.”
She waved her right hand in front of her face dismissively. “Oh, I’m fine. It was just a hairline fracture that occurred when I tripped at work.”
Torin Flanigan was working as the bartender and made his way down to them. “What can I get you?”
Sandy, still smiling, ordered a lemondrop, but when Torin turned toward Harper, she sighed. “Just a Coke, please.”
His gaze dropped to her wrist, and he shook his head. “Damn, Harper. I’ll make you something special.”
Sandy’s eyes widened as she looked at Harper. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry. I forgot that you can’t drink if you’re taking pain medicine.”
“Well, I haven’t taken it today, but I plan on taking it tonight. Better to stick with something nonalcoholic for now.”
Torin set a drink in front of her. “Here you go, Doll. It’s a virgin margarita.” Leaning forward, he added, “On the house, Harper. I figure you deserve it after breaking