Everyone in the room grew quiet while Karen watched the video. The first one Slash played was of a person dressed in black with a ski mask dumping the accelerant on the foundation of Elsa’s home, outside her bedroom window, then in the back beneath the spare bedroom.
“What the hell is this?” Karen barked. “This doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“Watch,” Slash said.
After striking a match, the person mumbled something before tossing it onto the accelerant. They vanished around the back of the house. Twenty-nine seconds later, the person ran toward the house next door. Since the neighbor’s front porch lights were on, the person in black was clearly visible as they ran from the burning building.
“You set it, then ranaway,” Slash growled. “I ranin.”
“That’s not me,” Karen insisted. “I have an air-tight alibi. I’m at my club every night.”
Next, Slash played the second video, the one in the parking lot. After the person in the two-door coupe parked, they pulled on a ski mask. For three brief seconds, the person’s face was visible.
“You can’t prove that’s me,” Karen said.
Slash pulled up the close-up of the car’s license plate number, then Detective Rosario set a single piece of paper on the table in front of Karen.
“That’s from the DMV.” Rosario recited the license plate number, then read who the vehicle was registered to.
“So what?” Karen blurted. “There’s no proof that’s me. Someone took my car—without my knowledge, by the way—and torched some old lady’s house.”
Relief shot through Slash. Per usual, Karen had dug her own damn grave.
“How’d you know who was in the house?” Detective Milholland asked.
Blabbermouth Karen Woodside pursed her lips, lowered her head, and stared into her lap.
Silence hung in the air for several tense seconds.
Slash had the arsonist, but she didn’t have motive. “Why did you try to murder Elsa Santini?”
When Karen raised her eyes, her killer stare drilled into Slash. “You got me fired from a job I was amazing at. The best in the biz, baby.” Pausing, she flicked her head, and her hair flew away from her face. “You ruined my life, so I wanted to return the favor. I decided to go after your adorable little grandmother. Then, you ran in to that burning building and rescued her. I could not fucking believe that.”
Karen glared at Detective Milholland. “Happy? She caught me. What a fucking hero. Blah-blah-blah. Let’s all kiss Slash’s ass. The whole thing makes me want to hurl.”
Despite the anger coursing through her, Slash didn’t react. She sat unmoved, letting the silence—and the truth—speak for her.
She had won. Plain and simple. And it felt so damn good.
“Detective Milholland, she’s all yours,” Slash said.
“Karen Woodside, you’re under arrest for first degree arson and for the attempted murder of Elsa Santini,” Detective Milholland said.
A deep sense of satisfaction filled Slash’s soul. Sometimes justice did prevail.
SATURDAY LATE MORNING,Slash and Carrera parked in front of Elwood Tosh’s Springfield home, owned by his current girlfriend. Tosh had been living there ever since he’d slithered back into town.
Unlike her arrest last night, she and Carrera were going into this situation blind. She didn’t have access to Social Services records on any of the minors in the home, but her random welfare check should help answer her questions.
She just needed to stay in character and not slit Tosh’s throat the second she laid eyes on him.
Determination coursed through her as they exited her SUV, made their way up the walkway of the split-level home. In Tosh’s case, outside appearances were deceiving. The yard was freshly cut, the bushes trimmed, the flower garden bursting with vibrant colors. The exterior of the home presented well, but she knew the horrors lay behind closed doors.
She needed to gather everything she could about Tosh, so she could plan her hit with exact precision.
One car was parked in the driveway, a second in the carport. With any luck, both Tosh and his girlfriend would be home.
“Ready?” Carrera asked as they stepped up to the front door.
