Free Touched by Fire by Greg Dinallo Page B

destroyed. Lilah had already filled her briefcase with boxes of computer diskettes, and was now slipping packets of autorads into the Macy’s shopping bag.
    “Dr. Graham!” Singer shouted, grasping her shoulders. “Tune to get out of here!”
    “This data hasn’t been archived!” she replied as she pulled free and whirled to the files. “And we’ve got all these subzero reefers. The temperature’s critical—years of work—I mean, if the emergency power hasn’t kicked in—”
    Singer and several of his men picked her up and carried her from the lab along with the briefcase and shopping bag. Between protests and gasps for breath, Lilah told the captain about the box that had exploded and burst into flame.
    Kauffman was beside himself with anxiety by the time the firemen escorted Lilah from the building and turned her over to paramedics. Relieved that she was safe, he decided discretion was the better part of valor this time and kept his distance. She was being treated for minor burns and smoke inhalation when Captain Singer poked his head inside the van. “Thought you’d want to know the fire’s been knocked down, and the emergency power is on.”
    “Thanks. Can I go back up there now?”
    “Not till it cools down. Besides, we’re still checking for radioactivity.” He noticed a vehicle rumble to a stop on the far side of the paramedic van and hurried toward it.
    A short time later Lilah was sitting in the open door ofthe van with a cigarette—despite a paramedic’s advice that she lay off for a few days—when a shaggy, broad-shouldered man came toward her. An attaché case hung from his fist. His face was strained and smudged with soot. Massive rings of perspiration radiated from his armpits, darkening his shirt.
    “Dr. Graham?”
    Lilah nodded, squinting at the reflection that came from his badge.
    “Lieutenant Merrick, Arson Squad. How’re you doing?”
    She sighed and mumbled, “Rotten.” “Me too.” Merrick took a family-size bottle of Tums from a pocket and pulled the cap. He tossed a few into his mouth, then offered it to her.
    “No thanks, but I’ll have one of those ,”she replied, pointing to his cigarette.
    Merrick slipped the pack from a pocket and thumbed the top. “The captain tells me somebody mailed you a hot potato.”
    Lilah lit one cigarette from the other and nodded.
    “What’d it look like?”
    “A box,” she replied, sizing it with her hands.
    “Addressed to you?”
    Lilah nodded again.
    “Scribbled? Printed? Neat? Sloppy?”
    “Neat. Bold, black printing.”
    “Any idea who sent it?”
    She shrugged forlornly, then exhaled, filling the space between them with smoke. “I just want to get back into my lab, Lieutenant. I’ve got a conference in less than a month and—”
    “It’s a crime scene, Doc,” Merrick interrupted. “Nobodygoes in there till I check it out; and I can’t do that until it—”
    “Cools down. I know,” she said wearily.
    “You have any enemies?”
    “Not that I know of. I guess I rub my share of people the wrong way, like everybody else.”
    “Any of ’em loners?”
    Lilah shrugged, then shook her head no.
    “Low self-esteem, poor verbal skills?”
    “This is a university, Lieutenant,” she replied with a smile.
    “Yeah, well,” Merrick grunted impatiently. “Pyros are loaded with problems. Some are real good at hiding them. You ever get any threatening calls or mail?”
    “No, never,” she replied, baffled by it all.
    Merrick was mulling it over when Captain Singer joined them. “We can go in now.”
    “We can?” Lilah said, brightening.
    “It’s your call, Dan,” Singer said.
    “No, it’s mine,” Lilah corrected. “It’s my lab, and I have to get in there.” She pushed past Merrick and strode toward the entrance. The determination in her voice moved him, but it was the matter of life-and-death plea in those soulful blue eyes that convinced Merrick not to stop her.
    In the lobby, a fireman directed them to an