Burke’s second trip to the condo came with fewer uncertainties. Far greater expectations.
He parked a block away, badged a different uniformed cop to access the site. Small groups of gawkers in housecoats and exercise gear lingered on the nearby sidewalks. Two women in yoga pants, leashed dogs by their sides, stood exchanging gossip. The Lhasa apso and Maltese sniffed the air side by side, probably exchanging their own opinions regarding the neighborhood’s new scents.
Burke paused to take in the greater scene.
The fire had been beaten into submission hours ago. Even so, threads of smoke still curled skyward, ethereal demons drifting up, taking their secrets on the wind. The hues and textures were a study in contrast. Wet mud outside the condo’s perimeter, a mulch of charred embers within. The unit next door was severely damaged, the shared wall having collapsed. Two perfectly intact rooms looked out over the precipice, complete with frill-curtained windows and a four-poster bed. It looked like a tormented dollhouse, its frippery fluttering in the breeze against walls stained black by smoke. The other two units, farther on, had gone relatively unscathed, the fire department having held its line. In the early light all of it seemed strangely tranquil, at odds with the inferno Burke had witnessed hours ago.
The fire investigator turned out to be a woman. She was wearing the lower half of a protective suit and heavy gloves. When Burke walked up she was near the back of the smoldering eastern unit. In her right hand was a detector of some kind, a box with a handle grip and telescoping sensor.
Burke wasn’t going to wade into a probable crime scene without protective gear, so from the remains of the entry landing he called out, “Excuse me!”
The woman turned. She was in her thirties and slender, Saturday hair that was wild and unruly. “Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, but my name’s Burke—I’m with the FBI.”
She frowned, flicked a button on her machine, then began slogging toward him through the rubble. When she paused a few steps away, Burke held out his credentials. She seemed to ignore them, and said, “Ashley Cleary, Fire Investigations Branch. The on-scene commander told me you were here this morning—said I might get the pleasure later.” Her tone wasn’t hostile, but maybe annoyed.
“Are you working this alone?” he asked, wanting to establish the chain of authority.
“I’ve got some backup at the office, but right now I’m solo.”
“Is that typical?”
“For a house fire on a weekend? Pretty much.” She tilted her head toward the wreckage. “Rumor is, you had an interest in this place as part of some investigation.”
“I had a tip about it. Can’t talk specifics right now, but maybe we could help each other out. My partner is trying to figure out who owns it.”
She weighed this for a moment, then said, “Okay. There’s an extra pair of boot covers and some gloves in the back of my Tahoe over there. Suit up and I’ll show you what we’ve got.”
“A twin,” Claire repeated. As if saying it out loud would help.
“It smooths out a lot of things that don’t make sense.”
“It sounds crazy.”
“I know,” said Sarah. “Which is why we need better evidence before we go to the FBI.”
Claire considered it. “If there’s documentation of twins at birth, I could find out using EPIC. Bryce was born in Virginia, right?”
“Yes … or at least, that’s what he told me.”
“Okay. There must be birth records, a DNA profile in his military file. I can approach this from a few angles.”
Sarah turned thoughtful. “I might have an angle of my own,” she said speculatively.
“What’s that?”
“I could talk to his father, Walter. He might remember something.”
Claire blew out a humorless laugh. “What—like Bryce had an identical twin brother that they gave up for adoption?”
“I know, it makes no sense. But maybe he can shed some light on it.”
“I thought he had Alzheimer’s.”
“He’s got advanced dementia, but there are occasional moments of lucidity. Alyssa is best at drawing him out. Now and again he’ll come up with some distant recollection, something really vivid. I’m told it’s fairly common. If I can catch him at the right moment, guide him with a few cues, maybe it’ll trigger the right memory.”
“I guess it’s worth a try.”
“What time is it?” Sarah asked. Her phone was still shut down.
Claire checked hers. “Ten thirty.”
“Okay, I need to pick up Alyssa soon. We’ll head up to Winchester this afternoon.”
Moments later they were outside, the frigid wind sweeping rotted leaves across the parking lot.
“At some point I need to return Burke’s call,” Sarah said.
Claire thought about it. “Keep your phone off for now, but ring me before you go to Winchester. I’ll tell you what I’ve found with EPIC. Hopefully you can call Burke back with more than what we’ve got.”
“That would be good. Since what we’ve got isn’t much.”