“Mitch had it around back, giving it a wash.”
They went to collect the truck, with Darcy explaining that aside from two trained EMTs on payroll, the other firemen were local volunteers. “Mitch Quinn is one of the most active,” she said as they rounded the corner and found a trim blond man in dark blue uniform drying off the pickup. “I’m hoping he’ll get a permanent position if the city ever approves a budget increase. He deserves it.”
She made quick introductions, then hopped in the cab, raring to go. They cleared the town quickly, then turned off the coastal highway and began climbing into the wooded area that scaled one end of the U-shaped ridge of hills that hugged Lion’s Bay to the ocean. Darcy’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel and her lips thinned. Mentally, she drifted away from him, became lost in some thought or memory that absorbed all of her vitality.
“Tell me about this place we’re going to,” he said, engaging her because he wanted her with him. Wanted to be there for her, with her, while she dealt with whatever she was struggling with.
She jolted as if the sound of his voice had startled her. Looking at him, she revealed green eyes that were stark and lost. “What?”
“Your impressions of the animal shelter. Any thoughts you might have about its selection. What you know of its history.”
“Oh. Right.” She slowly came back to him, exhaling her tension in a rush. “The shelter was built with funds provided by the Darmody family, who’ve owned the land up here for three generations. Lucy Darmody spearheaded the project in response to teasing from her family that she was turning her house into a zoo, due to her tendency to pick up stray, wounded, and unwanted animals. When she passed away, her children didn’t want the hassle of it, so they donated the equipment and planned on razing the building and kennels. Since then, it’s been tied up in litigation. They can’t agree on the best way to monetize the land.”
“How often do you come up here?”
“Not a lot.”
He studied her covertly from behind his shades. “But you used to.”
“Years ago. My dad is a vet and he used to donate one weekend a month to coming up here to spay and neuter. He conscripted me and Dani—my sister—into odd jobs whenever he could. That’s how Dani found out she loved the practice of veterinary medicine.”
“Too tame for you.”
She glanced at him. “Yes. I love animals, but it just wasn’t a vocation for me.”
“Where is she now?” Jared wanted to meet Danielle. He wanted to see Darcy with her sister, see the emotions and reactions she had to someone she loved and trusted.
“Near my parents.”
Why was Darcy still here? he wondered again. Without family ties, what was rooting her?
They pulled into a gravel parking lot riddled with weeds. At the end of the lot, charred cement block walls outlined the building that had once stood there. The kennels were obvious, the chain link and cement having weathered the fire well.
Darcy entered the building, her shoulders high and tight, the beam of illumination from a Maglite leading the way. “This was the main office. There wasn’t a whole lot left in here. Some built-in bookshelves and boxes of records for deceased pets. The boxes were moved into that corner there, with the incendiary device placed in the middle. We estimate the fire began sometime around ten in the evening.”
“And the unidentified witness called at quarter after. From Seattle.”
“With the timed delay, he could have set the stage and made the drive with time to spare.”
He glanced at her. “Where’s the fun in that?”
She stepped into a slender ray of light entering from a hole in the ceiling and gave an approving nod. “Exactly. What pyromaniac doesn’t stick around to watch the show?”
“One who isn’t obsessed with fire,” Jared answered, which he knew was impossible.
“Then he’s not a pyro, is he?”
“I’m following. We’ve already noted that the materials used to build the structures our subject selected were not the most flammable choices.” Jared rested a hand on the butt of his gun. “What are some of the other reasons to start a fire? We talked about insurance payouts. Maybe revenge? Damn it, the incendiary devices are tripping us up. Like you said, they’re too sophisticated, too meticulously built.”
“Right. Someone loves them, loves working on them, loves imagining the destruction they’re going to cause.”
“So we’re back to a pyro who doesn’t get off on his own fires.” He stared at her. “What are you thinking?”
“That maybe what you said about Merkerson passing the baton to a protégé is spot-on. What if they’re working together, with Merkerson teaching the ropes, deliberately starting off with a small town and structures that are manageable?”
“A training ground.”
“Yeah.”