Eyes watering from the billowing smoke and flames crawling up the back door of the bakery, Vickie grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed white foam at the terrifying wall of fire.
The sharp sound of a fire truck siren penetrated the blaring of the smoke alarm attached to the ceiling. No doubt Tim or her mom had called 911.
Her dad beat at the flames with a wet towel. The two employees had raced toward the front of the store the second they’d realized they were danger to help make sure all the patrons exited safely.
“Dad!” she yelled, unsuccessfully trying to be heard over the cacophony. She wanted to grab him and push him to safety, but the fire extinguisher required both hands. Using her shoulder, she butted him aside. “Go!”
He put his big hands on her shoulders and dragged her with him toward the front of the shop. Then Tim was there with a cloth wrapped around his face so that only his eyes were visible. He took the extinguisher from her and pointed for her and her father to leave.
No way. If it wasn’t safe for her, then it wasn’t safe for him. Heart pumping with adrenaline, she snagged his elbow and tugged him with her. They made it out to the street as the fire engine rolled past and turned down the alley to the back of the bakery.
Drawing in cleansing breaths of cold air, she searched the crowd for her mom. Vickie sighed with relief to see her parents embracing, safe and unharmed, as were their employees.
“Come on.” Tim clasped Vickie’s hand. They ran down the alley. The engine roared to a stop as men and women in turnout gear jumped out. Tim drew Vickie to the opposite side of the narrow passage, several feet from the fire.
“Stay here,” he instructed, before hustling forward to talk to the fire chief.
This was the arsonist’s work. The man had warned her to stop talking to the police. He’d done this as a kind of punishment. Another message. A way of letting her know he could make good on his claim that he could get to her. To the people she loved.
“Vickie!”
She turned to see her parents hurrying toward her. Each had a blanket from the fire department covering their shoulders. When they reached her, her father engulfed her in a hug, while her mother secured a blanket around her.
Irena touched her cheek. “I was so worried.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” She stepped back to look at them. “Tim got us out safely.” He’d risked his own skin for her and her family. She’d be forever grateful. The man was proving she could trust him in ways she’d never thought possible.
“Where is Agent Ramsey?” her father asked. “I need to talk to him.”
“He’s speaking with the fire chief.” She gestured to where the two stood near the fire engine. As if he sensed her attention on him, Tim met her gaze. She waved for him to come join her and her parents. He held up one finger, indicating to wait a moment.
A firefighter in turnout gear rounded the back end of the truck and strode over to Vickie and her parents. She couldn’t make out his features behind the Plexiglas mask and aspirator covering his face. “It’s not safe for you to be here.” He pointed toward the opening of the alley, where police were setting up a barricade. “You need to move to the street.”
Vickie tucked in her chin. There was something familiar about the firefighter’s voice but she couldn’t be sure because of the respirator muffling his words. She didn’t like the brusque way he delivered the command and the accompanying hand gesture, as if he were shooing them away like pesky insects.
“We will, sir. Thank you,” Sasha said, taking Vickie and her mother by the elbow. “We’ll wait for Agent Ramsey on the sidewalk.”
A few minutes later Tim joined them. “They have the fire under control.”
“Agent Ramsey,” Sasha said. “You need to speak to Colin. He may have seen something.”
At Tim’s confused look, Vickie interjected, “He’s one of our employees.”
“Okay. Right. One of the two young men I saw earlier. Where is he?”
Sasha beckoned to Colin and Ryan, the college freshmen who helped in the back of the shop,and they hustled over.
“Hey, boss,” Colin said. “Wow, that was wild.”
“This is Agent Ramsey of the FBI. Tell him what you saw this morning,” Sasha instructed.
The young man wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
Tim stepped forward. “If you saw something that might help us, I need to know.”
“That security guard who hangs around the bakery a lot was in the alley talking with Mr. Johnson about an hour before the fire broke out,” Colin said.
Vickie felt her stomach drop. Not only had Greg shown interest in her and she’d rebuffed him, but Mr. Johnson would profit on an insurance claim if the building were damaged. She shared a glance with Tim. An hour before the fire—that was while she was sitting with the forensic artist at the FBI headquarters. Was Greg really the arsonist? Was he working on behalf of Mr. Johnson?
“Thank you,” Tim said. “I’ll talk to both men.” He looked at them all. “Who called 911?”
Both Colin and Ryan shook their heads. Vickie’s parents looked at each other, then back to Tim. “Neither of us.”
“We’ve got class soon,” Ryan said. “Can we leave? I want to go home and get cleaned up.”
Tim shook his head. “Not yet. I will need my partner to release you. He’ll be here any minute.”
Vickie assumed the trainer was bringing Frodo over. But surely Tim didn’t suspect Colin or Ryan of setting the fire.
“Too bad about the bakery,” Ryan said. “I liked working for you.”
Sasha ran a hand through his graying hair. “I don’t know when you’ll be able to come back to work. I’ll give you good recommendations,” he assured them both.
“Thank you,” Colin said. “We’ll wait across the street. The bank lobby is warm.”
Once the two young men were out of earshot, Vickie said to Tim, “I can assure you those boys didn’t set the fire.”
“How? How can you be as sure as Frodo’s ability to smell traces of accelerant, even after a suspect thinks he or she has washed it off?”
Point taken. “I can’t, obviously, but I know those guys have no reason to hurt us, or anyone. They have no malice in their hearts. None whatsoever. They’ve worked for us part-time through high school. We know their families.”
Tim reached out and gently gathered her hands in his, a move so unexpected she didn’t have a chance to step back. “Vickie, starting fires isn’t always about malice. Sometimes, it’s about sickness. Sometimes, good old-fashioned greed. Sometimes, we don’t get to know the why, we simply count ourselves lucky to figure out who in a case like this, because that means we can stop it from happening again. I sleep better then.”
“Well, I hope you have something to read tonight, Agent, because when Frodo gets here, he’s going to clear those boys with two sniffs and a wag.” She scanned the crowd. “Greg, on the other hand... I hate to think Greg and Mr. Johnson set fire to the bakery. And the homeless shelter.” Had Greg been the one to attack her in the park, too?
“We have no proof it was either of them, but it’s worth pursuing,” Tim told her.
“But why would Mr. Johnson want to burn down his own buildings?” Irena asked. “And Greg has been so nice to us. We’ve known the Shermans since the kids were young.”
Tim’s expression turned grim. “Only Mr. Johnson can answer for sure, but I intend to find out. As for Greg, his feelings for Vickie may be clouding his judgment.”
Irena put her arm around Vickie. “Well, I’ll talk to his mama.”
“Please don’t,” Tim said quickly. “I don’t want to spook Greg. Nor do I want to accuse him of something without proof.”
Irena nodded, though Vickie could tell her mother wasn’t happy about the situation.
“Mr. Johnson has been on a rampage,” Sasha said. “This past summer, when our lease was up, he didn’t want to sign another. Instead, he wanted us to rent the building on a month-to-month basis.”
Vickie sucked in a quick breath. “Why would he want that?”
“Did you agree to his terms?” Tim asked at the same time.
Her dad nodded. “We had no choice. I wasn’t prepared to move. And as to why, I can only guess going month to month allowed him to raise the rent whenever he pleased. Which he has done twice now.”
“How can he get away with such a thing?” Vickie asked.
“On a month to month, the law only requires he give a fifteen-day notice before increasing the rent,” her father explained. “We’ve been looking at other locations, but haven’t found the right place yet. Looks like we’ll need to increase our effort.” He turned a sorrowful gaze on the burned-out bakery and Vickie’s heart wept for her father.
“I didn’t know you were considering moving the bakery.” Distress darkened her tone. She shouldn’t be surprised they hadn’t confided in her. A small voice in her heart whispered that she had done her fair share of keeping secrets from her parents, too.
Her mother placed a hand on her arm. “We didn’t want you to worry.”
There was a lot of that sentiment going around. Vicki clasped her mom’s hand. “I’ll help you search for the right place.”
“Thank you, dear,” Irena said, and pulled her close for a hug.
When she released her, Tim touched Vickie’s elbow. “After Frodo and I investigate the scene and the fire chief gives the all clear, you can go inside and gather as much as you can salvage,” he said. He looked toward the street. “Frodo’s here.”
“Thank you, Tim,” Vickie said, before he could walk away. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
He seemed to peer through her. “My job is to keep you and your family safe.”
He went to talk to one of the police officers. The cop nodded and headed in their direction as Tim took off for his accelerant-detecting dog.
Tim took Frodo’s lead from the unit’s trainer. “Thanks for driving him over. I didn’t want to leave the scene.”
“No problem,” Faith Rand said, and hurried back to her vehicle.
Frodo lifted his nose to the air.
“Yep, another fire, buddy,” Tim said. He grabbed his crime scene kit from his own vehicle. “Okay, boy, let’s go to work. I need you to clear a couple of people.” He led the dog to the lobby of the bank across the street from the Petrov Bakery, where Colin and Ryan and several other people watched from behind the windows in the heated building.
Tim had Frodo sniff the young men, and when the dog didn’t alert, he told them they could leave the scene. Sasha would have their contact information if Tim needed to talk to them again.
When Tim and Frodo reached the sidewalk where the Petrovs stood, the fire chief was already there talking to the family. He clapped Tim on the back. “The scene is yours. I was just telling the Petrovs they could enter through the front door and collect what they can once you’re done with your investigation.”
“Perfect.” Tim turned to Vickie. “I’ll text you as soon as Frodo and I have completed our examination of the area.”
She frowned. “But the fire started outside. Why can’t we go in now?”
“I don’t want to confuse Frodo,” Tim told her.
He led the German shepherd down the back alley. “Seek,” Tim said. Frodo put his nose to the ground and moved steadily closer to the back door of the bakery.
It didn’t take long for the dog to find the point of origin. Or the evidence that linked the fire to the other cases of arson: matches, remnants of cotton fibers and the remains of a cigarette.
Feeding Frodo kibble from the pouch at his waist, Tim said a thankful prayer that the arsonist hadn’t used paraffin wax as he had on the shelter fire. This burn was a warning for Vickie, making good on his threat, hoping to silence her about what she had witnessed the night of the homeless shelter fire.
Anger burned in Tim’s gut. The maniac responsible for terrorizing Vickie would pay for his crimes.
Tim thought through possible scenarios. Was Johnson paying Greg to set the fires? Did Johnson hope to collect the insurance money? Or was Greg setting the fires for his own purposes?