Burn You Twice - Mary Burton Page 0,79
stepfather out and begun to invite the first of many boyfriends into our home.”
“What did you hope to accomplish by the fires?”
“The prison psychologist asked me that very same question, and I’ve had ten years to think about it.” He shifted, crossing his legs. “I was angry. I didn’t know how to articulate it.”
If she were back in Philadelphia, she would not have hesitated to use the information Ann had given her. But this was not back east, and Ann was her friend, maybe the only one she had in Montana. “What are you watching now?”
“This is research.”
“On?”
“You.” He hit “Play,” and the fire began rolling again. As she looked closer, she saw this fire was eating through Avery Newport’s house. The footage had been recorded by a neighbor’s cell phone. “Amazing what you can find on YouTube.”
“Why would you care about the Newport fire in Philadelphia?”
“This fire reminded you of the College Fire, didn’t it? Two young women home alone. Fire breaks out, and one dies.”
“Newport is a cold-blooded killer. End of story.” Joan watched as the flames ate into the house, consuming it like a roaring dragon would. Her attention shifted to the left side of the screen, where she knew the roommate had slept.
His brow knitted with curiosity. “This really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“A young woman died in that fire.” She reached over and closed the laptop.
“You’ll get another chance to catch her.”
“Really? How can you be so sure?”
“I know Ms. Newport better than she knows herself,” he said.
“How?”
“The footage captured Newport at the scene, but her expression was all wrong for an innocent victim. All they saw was her crying, but the tears weren’t for her roommate. They were for her child, the fire.”
A sense of vindication rose up in Joan. “Unfortunately, that’s not enough for the prosecutor to file charges. And the evidence I collected was all circumstantial.”
The smile returned, warming his eyes. “I do have some theories, if you wish to hear them?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Well then, once we figure out who was behind the College Fire and the two most recent ones, I’ll share all I have on Avery Newport with you.”
“And if the evidence still points to you, then I don’t get the evidence on Avery Newport?”
“I’m not that petty, Joan. You know me much better than that.”
She drew in a breath, punching down her frustration. Like it or not, he had a talent for identifying patterns. Showing him the map Gideon had made of the recent fires was a risk, but if anyone understood the mind of an arsonist, it would be Elijah. “Gideon mapped the fires. I’d like to show it to you.”
“I would like to see it.”
She handed him her phone, and he studied the image for a good minute. He rose up from the couch and moved to a desk, where he’d stacked his textbooks. He opened the top one and pulled out notes. “I could get used to this detective work. I can already tell it’s going to be rewarding.”
“You’re not an official detective until we’ve done an all-night stakeout with only stale doughnuts and cold coffee.”
A smile tugged his lips. “Not all glamorous like the movies.”
“I wish.” She nodded to the paper. “See anything on the map that tells you something about our arsonist, Detective?”
He enlarged the photo on her phone. “These areas around Missoula and Helena are the same guy. The others have no statistical significance, meaning they’re random.”
“Why these?”
“It’s just a gut feeling at this point. Can you get me the official reports?”
“I can’t.” She leaned closer and looked again at the map. “Were the rural fires practice? Was the guy building up his courage?”
“I would say he has plenty of both. He’s letting off steam until game day.”
“How do you know?”
“Again, a feeling,” he said.
“I trust my gut, but I find DAs like evidence.”
“You have two distinct patterns. Now it’s a matter of figuring out who was in both these areas at this time.”
“You weren’t.”
“No, I was not.”
“Do arsonists recognize others? Maybe some kind of tell?”
The easy smile faded. “I am not one of them.”
She was surprised by the edge sharpening his words. “So what’s this guy’s deal?”
“He’s not a crazy kid working out anger. He likes the fires, and he’s turned it into a money-making operation.”
“How do you know about the money?”
“I didn’t until you just confirmed it for me.”
Joan could have tried to backpedal and deny she had given him anything, but she had. “The Helena fire did involve a payout.”
“I’m assuming