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“Whatever else you are,” Turner said more loudly, “no one can dispute you’re a good dad, right? Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Carter watched them as he continued to back deeper into the aisle. Josie started forward after him but he sidestepped through a gap in the shelves, slipping into the next aisle. Josie charged after him. Turner sprinted down the aisle he’d disappeared into. They caught up to him at the other end of the room where the rows of shelves gave way to several waist-high, wooden waterfall-style magazine stands. Carter held Molly in one arm. In his other hand he held a lighter. It was red, plastic and disposable. The sharp metallic click of the flint hitting the spark wheel was deafening in the quiet of the library. Josie even heard the tiny whoosh of ignition even though she was at least fifteen feet away from Carter. He was directly across from her, standing behind one of the racks. The flame danced as he held it millimeters from the edge of an old hymnal.

Fifty-Four

“Hey, man,” Turner said, angling himself so they again formed a triangle. “Let’s take it down a notch, all right? How about this? You don’t have to put Molly down. We don’t even have to leave this room. We can find a table and just sit and talk.”

“Shut up,” Carter told him.

Molly’s face was still buried in his neck but Josie heard her soft pleading, “Daddy, I want to go back.”

“Carter,” Josie said. “Is this what you really want? You just told me you’d never hurt your kids. There’s a big difference between dosing them with Benadryl and…” she motioned toward the flame, “that.”

His brow creased. “Benadr— How did you know— You know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to talk.”

“I don’t think you want to burn a church down either,” Turner said, drawing closer. From his position Josie knew he was able to see Carter’s entire body. He’d be able to charge him if it came to that.

“Stop right there,” Carter barked, waving the lighter back and forth across the tops of the magazines that had been stuffed in next to the hymnal. “There’s no accelerant in here but this old shit will go up fast.”

Molly lifted her head. With a pout, she said, “No fire, Daddy.”

“Daddy’s a firefighter, baby. Remember? I know what to do with fire.”

The smile he gave her was slightly unhinged. For the first time, awareness crept into Molly’s eyes. Awareness and fear. “Down, Daddy,” she said quietly.

“No, honey, I need you to stay with me.”

The tops of the pages of an issue of Response Magazine started to blacken and glow orange as the flame brushed back and forth across it. Panic was a vise around Josie’s rib cage. They weren’t getting anywhere trying to convince Carter to do the right thing. The only thing they could do for Molly was to keep him talking and distracted until he gave them some kind of opening to snatch her away and subdue him.

“You want to do this here, then,” Josie said. “Fine.”

She didn’t even need to make eye contact with Turner. Silent communication bounced between their bodies and somehow, she knew that he understood the direction she meant to take things. They hadn’t worked together all that long and she could hardly stand him but they’d still managed to achieve the kind of intimacy in their working relationship that could mean the difference between life and death in their jobs.

She was grateful.

“Yeah,” Turner said. “We don’t have anywhere to be so let’s do this. Why not?”

Carter’s hand froze. Josie’s limbs felt almost weak with relief to see that it was a good two inches away from the magazine. Still, heat continued to eat away at the issue next to it, the pinpricks of orange pulsing. The only thing that kept it from blossoming into a flame was the stagnant air in the room.

“What are you talking about?” Carter said.

“Well,” said Turner, taking a nearly imperceptible step forward. “We want to talk about you.”

“Daddy.” Molly watched the flame. Her hands were fisted against her chest. “I’m scared.”

“What was your plan?” Josie said. “After Kirstie’s funeral? Were you just going to go back to your normal life?”

The knuckle of his thumb blanched with the continuous pressure on the ignition button. “That’s none of your business.”

“I think you made it my business when you snuck into my cubicle at the hospital and put lipstick on my face,” Josie said. “Tell me, after you failed to kill your mother thirteen years ago, was the taunting enough for you to stop killing?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed but he said nothing.

“It must be a rush,” she continued. “Messing with people and rubbing it in their faces without them even knowing. Like today. You liked how it felt knowing you had that lipstick in your pocket while everyone was crying for Kirstie, didn’t you? Even if it hurt Dean.”

Molly kicked her legs, knocking into Carter’s wrist. The flame skimmed over the tops of the magazines once more before he stilled it again, keeping it an inch away this time. Josie had to concentrate hard on not audibly sucking in her breath.

“Kirstie was always a bitch to Dean,” he said. “Just like our mother. The way she talked to us at that funeral meeting? I couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to know who she was dealing with. The truth is that she was lucky I let her live as long as she did. She was never good for Dean. I did him a favor.”