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“Yep,” Sam said, and she looked at him dubiously.
“Isn’t that a little…I don’t know. Hokey?”
He leaned in, close enough for her to catch the leather and balsam scent of whatever soap he’d used. “We’re improvising, Lucy. It doesn’t have to be scientific.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Okay, I guess.”
“Do you trust me?” Sam asked. It was the sort of question that, under different circumstances, he’d probably deliver with some sort of wink and chin-lift combo that would set a woman’s panties ablaze, and Lucy couldn’t deny that even now, his expression was loaded with confidence. But his surety was exactly what she trusted the most, his belief that this would get them somewhere growing contagious despite her doubts, and she nodded.
“Yes. I trust you.”
“Good. Close your eyes.”
Her heart smacked against her sternum. Oh, God, he was serious. “You’re pushing your luck.”
“Always,” he promised, moving his hand in ac’mongesture. “Just try it. Close ’em.”
Sighing, Lucy let her eyes drift shut. “Okay.”
“Right. So, clear your mind.” After a beat, he added,“Actuallyclear it. Don’t just humor me.”
A flush crept over her face.Busted.“Alright, alright.” She took a couple of deep breaths, relaxing a little against her chair. “I’m clearing my mind.”
“There we go,” Sam said after a minute. “Now, think about this arsonist. Not who he is, literally, but think about what he’s like. What are his personality traits?”
She inhaled slowly, unraveling her thoughts one by one. Whatwasthis guy like? He’d certainly had bad intentions—no one burned down an entire warehouse and put firefighters in harm’s way for justifiable reasons. So he couldn’t be a good guy. But this hadn’t been a crime of opportunity. No, he’d gone to great lengths to get the job done. There had to be something to that, right?
“He’s a planner. Meticulous. A lot of thought went into setting that fire.” The words popped past Lucy’s lips before she’d even known she’d say them, and the shock almost made her open her eyes.
But then Sam said,“Yeah.That’s really good. What else?”
“He’s…” Emboldened, she let her thoughts drift a little more, her instincts taking over. “Determined. Like he has a specific purpose.”
“Okay, what does he want? I mean, other than to burn the warehouse down?”
What did he want? This had been bugging Lucy from the beginning, this lack of obvious motive. No cover-up, no insurance money. Too well planned to be just-for-kicks vandalism. Why had he set the fire? What was his purpose?
What did hewant?
The question tickled something in Lucy’s mind, the thought appearing, then flickering away before re-forming. It was a crazy idea—almost impossible, really—and yet something about it made her murmur, “Do you think…”
She caught the insanity of the thought just shy of launch, biting her words back as she opened her eyes and sat up straight in her chair. “Never mind.”
“Nope. No way.” Sam shook his head. “Do I think what?”
His expression told her in no uncertain terms that he’d go to any means necessary to get her to finish her thought out loud, and God, why had she agreed to such an impulsive exercise in the first place?
“It’s really far-fetched,” Lucy warned. “And it’s probably nothing. But this fire wasn’t set for insurance fraud or to cover up another crime, right? In fact, there’s no motive at all that we can easily see.”
“That’s true,” he said.
“Okay, but what if the fireisthe motive?”
Sam’s auburn brows shot toward his tousled hairline. “You think he’s a firebug?”
“I don’t know. No.” Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse suddenly loud in her ears despite the after-hours quiet of the arson investigation office. “Maybe?”
Clinical pyromaniacs were a statistical rarity, especially ones who set fires as large as the one at the warehouse just to watch them burn. Lucy had certainly never encountered one in her three years as a firefighter, and could only recall hearing of two, maybe three in her father’s tenure with the RFD—which spanned nearly thirty years. The notion that their arsonist was a true firebug was far-fetched, at best. Probably not even worth pursuing.
