Page 56 of Nicole's Shelter

“Yup. I have your camera. Tell me what the arsonist’s signature looks like.”

“There’s always a delete sign near the ignition point. You know the circle with a line through it? If this was one of his fires, the signature will be in the apartment where the fire started. I doubt I got any useful shots from our vantage point.” A mental review of the angles and views she’d taken confirmed her conclusion. “Unless he started the fire outside the building and I didn’t catch it.”

“No. That fire clearly started in your apartment.” She heard him sigh and felt exactly the same frustration. “Why doesn’t the signature get burned away in the fire?”

“I don’t know a lot about arson, but way back when, experts said it was in the way he directs the initial burn away from the mark.”

She heard him zip her camera bag closed. Then his hands softly drummed a rhythmic pattern against his thighs.

“Arsonists have favorite materials, right?”

“Yes. That summer you practically made yourself a suspect if you purchased lighter fluid for a barbeque.”

“No one mentioned lighter fluid at your apartment. And the control valve for the sprinklers had been shut off.”

The whole thing made her sick to her stomach. “You think the gang from the neighborhood clinic set my apartment on fire?”

“Yes. Probably hired by Allie’s boss. He had to make sure any photos you had on your computer or anywhere else were destroyed.”

“And Clifton just happened to see my face on the news and take advantage?”

“I think Clifton has known your location and he’s just been waiting for the right moment to strike.”

It made a certain sick sense. She’d been doing the same thing, biding her time and waiting for the right moment to flee. “We should go back and check the gang house for the signature.”

“No way in hell.”

“But if we can tie that fire to the fires when I was a kid maybe they’ll tie that arsonist to Clifton. He’s got to be in the area. Won’t that push the prosecution to take action?”

He wrapped her in a strong, soothing hug and tucked her head under his chin. “I know you want out from under this. No one deserves it more. But you said it yourself. They took the pictures. All the evidence is in a box in an evidence locker somewhere—”

“Not all the evidence.”

His whole body stilled for a long moment and then he stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. “What do you mean?”

Without his touch, she felt cold and alone again. It took a moment to get her voice to cooperate. “My friends and I went out together to find the arsonist. I wasn’t the only one with a camera, but I was the only one who saw what Clifton did. The only one who was seen by him.”

“Which means what? Be specific.”

“You have to understand, I was just a kid.”

“I get that.”

“The police confiscated my film and my camera when Clifton accused me, but it wasn’t the only film I had from those days. I’d been going through a roll of film almost every day. When I got home that day, relieved and terrified, I swapped out that day’s film for the roll I’d shot the day before.”

“Which was?”

“A series of previous fire sites showing the delete signature.”

“You and your friends had been crawling through arson sites.”

She nodded, hating the censure in his tone.

“You were insane. Where were your parents?”

“We weren’t insane. We were kids wanting to be heroes. Up until that summer nothing dangerous or exciting happened in our community. And my friend, who shall forever remain nameless, crawled out my bedroom window with that last roll of film when the police came knocking on my door with a search warrant. I didn’t even try to process that roll of film until after we were relocated the second time.”

“What did you find?”

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