Free The Arsonist by Mary Burton Page A

more fires?”
    Gannon dug in his pocket for the packs of matches. “Someone sent me these.”
    The chief took the Rome matches and studied them. “Okay, matches.”
    “Open the flap.”
    The chief read the inscription. Day One.
    “I got those yesterday. If Nero holds to his pattern, I’ll get more matches today.”
    The chief lifted a brow. “Nero? Gannon, he’s dead.”
    Gannon was certain now that the body found in that last D.C. fire was not Nero’s. He had no facts— just a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
    But convincing the chief and everyone else that Nero was alive was a different matter.
    He decided for now to downplay Nero. “What I meant to say was I think you’ve got a Nero copycat on your hands.”
    “Why the devil would a copycat land in Preston Springs?”
    “Because I’m here.”
    Chief Wheeler leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Seems a bit farfetched.”
    “I was Nero’s target for seven months. It stands to reason a copycat would do the same.”
    “Look, I know life can seem pretty dull here compared to D.C.”
    “Look, I’m not some has-been investigator looking for trouble when there isn’t any.”
    The chief raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say that you were. But I can tell you that two fires and one pack of matches doesn’t mean we got anything other than two unrelated fires. Maybe someone sent those matches to you as a joke.”
    Gannon flexed the tension from his fingers. “It’s not a damn bit funny.”
    The chief was losing patience. “Didn’t say it was.”
    “There’s more to this, Chief, I can feel it.”
    “Feelings don’t do much for me.” The chief rose. “Tell you what. You go back to building those motorcycles, and I’ll take care of the fire fighting.”
    Gannon stood so quickly his chair skidded back on the carpeted floor. “I don’t need your condescending attitude, Chief. I came here to warn you that there could be more fires.”
    Anger flashed in the chief’s gray eyes. “And I don’t need you barging in my office when I got work to do. You get hard evidence and we’ll talk.”
    Gannon was so mad he could hardly see straight. No one would blame him if he walked away. He’d more than paid his dues. Instead, he heard himself saying, “Watch the schools.”
    The comment caught the chief off guard. “Why?”
    “If the pattern holds true, the Nero wannabe is going to torch a school next.”
    Chief Wheeler’s lips flattened. “Don’t jerk my chain, son.”
    “I’m not,” he ground out. “Believe me, this is the last kind of situation I want to be in.”
    Gannon left the office angry and irritated. There were going to be more fires. Fires were a game to Nero and he’d clearly enjoyed the cat and mouse game they’d played in D.C.
    He drove back to his garage and parked in the back alley. He tossed his keys on the workbench by the back door and headed straight to his tools. On the lift sat the bike he was supposed to finish and send to the paint shop next week. He’d spent most of yesterday fabricating the custom handlebars and now he needed to attach them to the bike.
    Aggravated, he put on his welding mask and fired up his torch. The chief was a fool. He stared at the blue-white flame and found himself transported back to the fires that had ravaged the D.C. area last year. He thought about the lives lost. The destruction. The fear.
    Gannon forced his focus back to the bike. He started to weld metal to metal.
    Nero, or some nut who thought he was, was out there just waiting to set more fires. Gannon had done his part and tried to warn the chief. It wasn’t his fault that the guy wouldn’t listen.
    Watch the schools.
    Gannon’s own words haunted him. No matter how much he wanted to let this go, he couldn’t. He shut off the torch. When he turned, he saw Darcy standing by the door.
    The long-legged brunette was holding a stack of mail. A smile tipped the edge of her full lips.
    She wore shorts and a white