Page 4 of Burning Truth

Parker surveyed him carefully and gave him a nod. Then he handed over another picture. It was in a long shot, obviously focused in on Addie, her voluptuous curves on display in a short blue dress. She was walking toward the camera on a sidewalk downtown, talking, but way in the background, beyond her right shoulder, he could see himself walking along the same sidewalk, dark head down as he looked at a manilla folder in his hands.

Severn frowned. “Is that in front of the courthouse?”

Parker nodded.

“I was down there like, a month ago, to testify in the Hampton case. I didn’t even realize she was there.”

“Right after that, they had a bomb threat in the building, and it was completely evacuated.”

Severn shrugged. “I remember hearing about it. I also made note of it in there,” he motioned to the folder.

Parker glanced down at the information, flipping through a few papers to confirm what he said. Severn chafed at the thought that his boss had to confirm anything with him.

“I’m not the firebug, Parker,” he ground out. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that. I can’t stand to be around fire, let alone setthem. I’ve gone in to train the bomb squad guys. Hell, I’ve helped them on a couple of calls.”

“I know,” Parker sighed, rocking back in the chair again, “but if they’re coming in here looking for someone to pin this shit on, I need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt it’s not you.”

Yeah, he could understand that. “Well, if it’s connected, you can confirm this. I was out of town when that garage went up in flames two months ago.”

A local tow yard with a contract with the police department had been broken into and an IED had blasted through it about eight weeks ago. He’d been in Florida tracking down a lead on a possible abduction case when it happened.

All the fires seemed to have something to do with local government. The bar in Short North catered to trendy lawyer types who liked to be seen. The garage regularly worked on county vehicles. The fabric warehouse with the coffee shop in the bottom had catered to a lot of cops and first responders. It wasn’t until that most recent bombing, though, the coffeeshop, that people had died. Severn had tracked back on the calendar the dates on the incidents, and they were getting closer together. “By my estimation, he’ll be doing something else soon.”

Parker scowled, leaning forward. “Any idea what’s coming next?”

Severn shook his head. “But it should be any day.”

Parker’s cell phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. “The detective is here. Let’s fill him in on what you’ve accumulated.”

The lead detective was a tall Black woman, not a man. There was a calculating look in her dark eyes. She was followed by a shorter, middle-aged Hispanic man, with dark eyes and dark hair, and a chip on his shoulder the size of Ohio.

“I thank you for seeing us, Mr. Quinn,” the woman said, smiling, stepping forward with her hand out. “I’m Detective Johnson and this is Detective Rodrigo.”

Parker shook her hand, then Rodrigo’s hand. He motioned to Severn. “This is my director of field operations, Severn Moran.”

Severn shook their hands, but he saw the subtle glance the two detectives shared. They hadn’t expected him to be here, and they thought they’d just met their arsonist. He also let them look their fill of his scars, though it made him chafe like wet wool.

Parker waved them to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat. We’ve just been talking about the new arsonist Columbus has.”

“It’s still under investigation,” Detective Johnson said, frowning, but she took the seat. Rodrigo sat as well, and Severn moved to the side of the room to lean on the buffet where Parker kept his liquor stash. He crossed his legs in front of himself, staying relaxed.

“There have been a few things brought to our attention,” Rodrigo began, but Parker held up a hand.

“A few? You told me of two instances.”

The man shifted in his chair. “Yes, two instances.”

“Your words have weight, detective,” Parker admonished softly. “Be precise.”

Johnson lifted a brow at Rodrigo, and he sat back in the chair, looking pissed. “My partner is anxious to investigate this situation.”

“We all are, Detective. We don’t want anyone else to die or be hurt.”

Her eyes flicked to Severn, and he knew what she was thinking. “I’m not your firebug, detective,” he said. “I’ve been tracking what he’s doing, though, and I know you need to figure out who it is pretty quick, because he’s going to burn again.”

She cocked her head at him. “Why do you say that, Mr. Moran?”

“Because it’s the psychology of the arsonist. In general, they escalate, and in the last fire, he actually killed someone. Three someones. That’s going to be a high he’s looking for again. The terror he caused and the reaction later. It’s all feeding his ego.”

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