Chapter Twelve

This time Jarvis pulled right into the driveway, blocking the shiny Hyundai. The Glock was tucked behind his back, just in case Brin wasn’t following Hekmatier because of a string of parking violations. He knocked on the door and could smell baking bread and a mix of warm spices, bringing back olfactory memories as real as the door in front of him. A second knock and he could hear a chair scraping the floor somewhere beyond, probably the kitchen. No footsteps but he could feel someone approaching. He took a half step back to create a sense of safety, staying out of the kid’s personal space. The door opened a few inches and Jarvis saw a gentle brown face, framed by curly black hair, peer out. Jarvis opened his mouth to say something but the young man’s face went from curious to shocked. It stopped Jarvis before a word could come out. The kid, Azad, was the first to respond, by transforming the shock into something more emphatic and slamming the door shut. Jarvis had no idea what had freaked out the youngster. He knocked again and called out.

 

“Azad! Relax, I just want to talk to you for a minute.” The boy looked innocent enough, nothing sinister, just a fish out of water gasping for air. Jarvis knocked again and tried the door handle; locked.

 

He stepped to the left and peered through a part of the window not obscured by drapes. He could see the kid fumbling through a closet about fifteen away, near the kitchen. Azad looked back at that exact moment and saw Jarvis peering through the glass. Even with the dimming light of dusk, Jarvis could see the expression on Azad’s face and in that moment Jarivs realized what it was: recognition. Azad knew Jarvis. The young man found what he was looking for and pulled out a small portable boom box. If the smell of cooking food hadn’t triggered in Jarvis such strong memories, he may not have made the connection. Instinctively he turned away from the window and took three long strides toward the front yard. He jumped and tucked into a ball, just as the first explosion blew out the windows and splintered the door. He rolled along the well-kept grass toward the street, shielding his face and neck with his arms. The second explosion blew a hole in the roof and started a fire that instantly consumed the living room and kitchen. A third explosion must have been pre-set; there was not enough of Azad left to hit a trigger. Jarvis felt the ground shake. The sound was deafening. His hands had been clasped over his ears while his forearms protected his face. It took just seconds for the roar to stop and be replaced by an echo and then the whoosh of the fire eating oxygen. Jarvis stayed on the ground, in case there were any more explosives, and watched the house be consumed. As he sat up and checked for any sprains or breaks from the sudden departure from the front door, he could hear a siren about a mile away. The fire station he’d passed while driving back and forth to Magnolia Ave probably didn’t need a 911 call to know there’d been a disaster or where it was. Jarvis mulled over for a moment the right move. He stood and watched the flames reach 30 feet in the air and dialed Rayford.

 

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The fire was out and the neighbors remained entranced by the emergency team’s activities. Jarvis had refused the blanket and medical exam from the EMT who had no one else to attend to. Rayford arrived fifteen minutes after getting Jarvis’ call. His look was not one of camaraderie as he walked across the lawn after consulting with the West Valley detective whose case this was.

 

“There something you want to tell me now, maybe something you knew before but it slipped your mind when I asked earlier?”

 

The complexity of the sentence didn’t obscure the sarcasm. It fell harmlessly after failing to pierce Jarvis’ armor. “I was following up on a lead.” He looked over at the smoldering house and raised his eyebrows.

 

Rayford almost laughed. “Okay, we’ll discuss full disclosure later. What the hell happened?”

 

Jarvis walked toward the house, stepping over a hose that was plump with flowing water. The house looked like a giant had bent over and taken a huge bite out of it from above. “The kid blew himself up. The whole house and whatever was in it.”

 

“Did you talk to him?” Rayford walked beside him, waving off the warning from the fire chief. “Do you have any idea what the hell was going on – meth lab? Pipe bombs?”

 

Jarvis stopped just at the spot where half an hour earlier he’d peered in the window and seen the young man fumble trying to locate the trigger. “There’s going to be traces of something, whatever it is he wanted to get rid of. Including himself.”

 

Rayford pursed his lips. “That’s not an answer.”

 

Jarvis turned to the detective. “I didn’t get to say anything more than hello.” He paused. “This is the guy Brin was following the day he was poisoned.” He turned back to the crater that had been a living room and kitchen. “And he recognized me. As soon as he did, he did this.”

 

Rayford looked back and forth between the gutted house and Jarvis. A storm gathered on his face. “And you didn’t think you should tell me?”

 

Jarvis fixed the detective with a stare. He didn’t blink for more than half a minute, then turned and walked away.