Burn You Twice - Mary Burton Page 0,80
the Halperns also took out a hefty plan. Were the Halperns and the Helena business owner out of town when their businesses burned?”
“Yes.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “The owners travel to a distant city, their places get torched, and both parties come home looking innocent.”
“You’re saying that the fires are financially motivated?”
“For the business owners, yes.”
“And for the arsonist?”
“The thrill. The control. The power. The danger.”
“You can slip into this guy’s mind pretty easily. Maybe you’re behind the fires,” she challenged.
“We established I was in prison.”
“That didn’t stop you from finding my home address.”
He nodded slowly. “I admit to taking liberties when I worked in the prison warden’s office.”
“What other liberties did you take?”
“None.”
That she did not believe but for now let it lie. “Maybe you used one of your little Fireflies.”
“Interesting theory.”
“A local woman, Lana Long, came to see you in prison several times. You also wrote to her multiple times.”
“Yes, she did. She was an entertaining diversion.”
“How did you two connect?”
“I didn’t reach out to her; she found me. There are women who are fascinated by men behind bars. Several women came to see me while I was incarcerated.”
“You’re a good-looking guy.”
“I am.” No bravado, simply a statement of fact. “These women can build elaborate fantasy worlds because they know I’m locked away. They always know where to find me, and I can’t get involved in their worlds unless they want me to.”
“That’s what Lana wanted? To talk to a handsome man behind bars.”
“Yes.”
“It appears you two were never alone. Is that true? Prison wardens don’t always know what’s going on in their facilities.”
“We always had three inches of glass between us.”
“A trustee in the warden’s office must have extra freedoms.”
“Not that kind.”
“Did she ever mention a boyfriend?”
“Other than Ryan, no.”
She studied him closely, searching for signs of deception. “No one here in Missoula?”
“None.”
“Did you get her to set the Beau-T-Shop fire? Maybe she was the one up in the hills practicing techniques you’d taught her.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
She ignored the question. “Did she lose her nerve in the beauty shop? Is that why you had to kill her?”
His frown deepened as if he had been presented with a new math problem. “Lana’s dead?”
“Burned to a crisp.” She was intentionally blunt to shock him and perhaps provoke a reaction.
He closed his eyes for a moment and seemed genuinely shaken. “I didn’t know she was the fatality.”
“Really?”
“I liked Lana. I would never wish her harm. Check the prison records. You’ll see that Lana and I first made contact back in January. They have samples of my correspondence.”
“How many girls like Lana did you know?”
“You’re suggesting I have this stable of women who set fires for me.”
“You wouldn’t be the first Svengali to get women to do your bidding.”
His quick laugh was tainted with a bitter tone. “You should write for television.”
Confessions of an Arsonist
I need more fire to burn the ice she has wrapped herself in. Soon. Soon. Soon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Missoula, Montana
Wednesday, September 9, 2020
2:00 p.m.
Joan pushed through the doors of Tucker’s Diner, hearing the bell above her head as she entered. If only she had a nickel for every time she’d heard that damn bell or stood behind the counter and served coffee until 2:00 a.m. At least the late-night hours were quiet and allowed her to do the bulk of her studying. In fact, the regulars back then had toned down their chatter while she did her homework.
Dan Tucker stood behind the counter just as his father had ten years ago. The younger Tucker was fatter, his skin blotchier. She guessed the heavy drinking he did back in the day had finally caught up to him.
She took a seat at the end of the bar, waiting as he served up a platter of pancakes to a customer. On autopilot, he reached for a coffeepot and an ivory stoneware mug. But when his gaze crossed her face, he froze. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
“Dragged me all the way from the East Coast.”
He set the mug in front of her and smiled as he filled it. “It’s good to see you, Joan.”
She sipped. “Still the best coffee I’ve ever had.”
“Damn right.” He set the pot down. “I don’t need any guesses to figure out why you’re back in town, Detective. Mr. Weston should be worried.”
“He doesn’t seem too rattled.”
“No, he never did. Always had a smirk on his face.” He regarded her. “You didn’t come here just for my coffee.”
“I have questions, if you don’t mind answering them.”
“I’m an