had a tetanus shot lately? I love giving those.”
“Last year. Stay away from me.” He looked dubiously toward Gib. “I don’t need an honor guard.”
“Just keep walking.” Gib waited until they were through the thicket of neighbors. “I caught bits and pieces back there, and it sounds like there’s something going on I should know about. Somebody called Reena at your place.”
“Yeah, the guy from before. The one who’s been hassling her. The one who set fire to the school? And she hasn’t said anything to you about any of this?”
“Now you’re going to.”
Not just flanked, Bo decided. Squeezed. “Better if you asked her.”
“Better if I don’t help Xander hold you down while he does a prostate exam.”
“Now those are fun,” Xander agreed.
“Point taken. She should’ve told you, and now she’s going to be pissed I did. Maybe being the only child of divorced parents isn’t so bad. You guys are work.”
He told them what he knew as they walked the two blocks to the clinic, and inside. Xander’s amusement had turned to stony silence. He gestured toward an exam table.
“When did this start?” Gib demanded.
“From what I gather, right after she moved in.”
“And she says nothing.” Gib spun around, began to pace.
“Steve either,” Xander pointed out, and began to clean the gash.
Bo hissed in his breath at the sting. “Can’t you medical sadists come up with stuff that doesn’t burn down to the frigging bone?”
“You’ve got a nice gash here, Bo. About six stitches’ worth.”
“Six? Well, shit.”
“Going to numb you up.”
He studied the syringe Xander took from a drawer, then decided he preferred looking at Gib’s livid face. “I don’t know any more than that. I don’t know what his game is, but he’s got her on edge. She handles it, but it’s working on her.”
“Someone she put in prison,” Gib murmured. “Someone she put in, who got out. My little girl and I are going to have a talk.”
“Talk is our euphemism for yelling and swearing and occasionally throwing breakables,” Xander explained. “Little prick.”
“I don’t think I deserve to be called a prick just because—ouch. Oh, you meant that kind of prick. Mr. Hale . . . Gib, you’re her father, so you’ve known her longer, you know her better, but I’d say yelling and swearing and throwing breakables isn’t going to change a thing.”
Gib showed his teeth. “Never hurts to try.”
The front door rattled open, and a moment later Jack came in with a shirt and shoes. He glanced at Bo’s arm, gave a wince of sympathy. “Bianca thought you could use these. Stitches, huh?”
“Six, according to Dr. Gloom here.”
“Close your eyes, and think of England,” Xander said to Bo.
It could have been worse, Bo decided. He could have humiliated himself and squeaked like a girl. As it was he walked back home with his dignity fairly intact, sucking on the cherry lollipop Xander had handed him after the ordeal was over.
Most of the crowd had dispersed, with a few lingering in clutches to watch the sort of thing he imagined they only saw on TV.
Reena, O’Donnell and Steve, along with a couple of guys he figured were crime-scene people, were still swarming over the wreckage.
He wondered if his insurance had to cover the damage to the cars caused by the flying parts of his truck. Man, his rates were going to soar like a frigging eagle.
Reena broke away, crossed to him.
“How’s the arm?”
“Apparently I get to keep it. And I got a lollipop.”
“It made him stop crying,” Xander told her. “As for the truck, that looks DOA.”
“It’s bad,” she agreed. “Collateral damage on cars parked front and back—which includes mine. We’re about done with what we can do here. You can sign off on it, Bo, so we can take it into evidence.”
“What about my tools? Any of my tools make it?”
“Once we’re done, I’ll get what we’ve collected back to you. Mama’s inside.” She looked at her father. “She wanted to wait for you, to check on Bo.”
“Fine. I’ll go wait with her.”
“I’m going to be a little while longer here. It’s late, you should go on home.”
“We’ll wait.”
She frowned after Gib as he walked toward her house. “What’s going on?”
“Come on, Jack, I’ll walk you home.” Xander slung an arm around his brother-in-law’s shoulders, looked at Bo. “Keep that dressing dry, use the ointment as prescribed. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” He caught Reena’s chin in his hand, kissed her on the cheek. “Your butt’s cooked. ’Night.”
Jack kissed her forehead. “You take care of yourself. See you, Bo.”
Reena’s gaze ticked back to Bo. “What’s going on?”
“You didn’t tell them.”
She opened her mouth, hissed out a breath. “And you did.”
“You should’ve told them, and you put me in a spot where I had to be the bearer.”
“Great.” Stewing, she stared at her house. “Just great. You couldn’t just keep it zipped, wait for me to deal with this.”
“You know what?” he said after a moment. “It’s been a crappy night, and I don’t feel like going another round. Do what you do. I’m going to bed.”
“Bo—” He held up a hand as he walked away, and she was left with a good mad on, and no place to put it.
By the time she dragged herself through her own front door, it was after four in the morning. She wanted a long, cool shower and her own soft bed.
Her parents were on the sofa, snuggled up like a couple of sleeping kids. Considering that a blessing, she eased back, intending to tiptoe upstairs.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Her father’s voice stopped her, had her closing her eyes. Not once, not once had any of them been able to sneak into the house after curfew. The man had instincts like a snake.
“It’s late. I want to catch a couple hours’ sleep.”
“You’re old enough so your wants won’t hurt you.”
“Oh, I hate when you say that.”
“You should be careful with your tone, Catarina.” Bianca spoke without opening her eyes. “We’re still your parents, and we’ll be your parents a hundred years after you’re dead.”
“Look, I’m really tired. If we can just table this until tomorrow.”
“Someone’s threatening you, and you don’t tell us?”
Okay, no chance for a respite. Reena dragged out the band holding her hair back as her father rose from the couch. “It’s work, Dad. I don’t, can’t, won’t tell you everything about the job.”
“It’s personal. He’s calling you. He knows your name. He knows where you live. And tonight, he tried to kill you.”
“Do I look dead?” she shot back. “Do I look hurt?”
“And what would you be if Bo hadn’t acted quickly?”
“Oh, great.” She threw up her hands, stormed around the room. “So he’s the white knight and I’m the helpless damsel. Do you see this?” She yanked her badge out, shoved it in her father’s face. “They don’t give these out to helpless damsels.”
“But they give them out to stubborn, selfish women who can’t admit when they’re wrong?”
“Selfish?”
They were shouting now, their faces inches apart. “Where do you get that? It’s my job, it’s my business. Do I tell you how to run your business?”
“You’re my child. Your business is always my business. Somebody tried to hurt you, and now he’s going to have to deal with me.”
“This is just what I was trying to avoid. Why didn’t I tell you all this? Play this conversation back. You are not getting into this. You are not getting into my work, into this part of my life.”
“Don’t you tell me what I’m going to do!”
“Back at you.”
“Basta! Basta! Enough!” Bianca sprang off the couch. “Don’t you raise your voice to your father, Catarina. Don’t you yell at your daughter, Gibson. I’ll yell at both of you. Imbeciles. Stupidi! You’re both right, but that won’t stop me from knocking your empty heads together to hear the crack. You—” She jabbed a finger into her husband’s chest. “You go round and round and don’t get to the meat. Our daughter isn’t selfish, and you’ll apologize. And you—” The finger stabbed out at Reena. “You have your work, and we’re proud of what you do, who you are. But this is different, and you know it. This is not about someone else. This is you. Do we ever say, ‘No, no, Catarina’ when you go into a building that may fall on your head? Did we say, ‘No, you can’t become a police officer, and worry us every day, every night’?”
“Mama—”
“I’m not finished. You’ll know when I’m finished. Who stood the tallest, who was the proudest when you became what you always wanted? And you’d stand here and tell us this isn’t our business when someone wants to hurt you?”
“I just . . . I just didn’t see the point in worrying everyone.”
“Hah! That’s our job. We’re family.”
“Okay, I should’ve told you, and I would have after tonight—and if Bo hadn’t—”
“You’re going to blame him now?” Gib broke in.
She hunched her shoulders. “He’s the only one left, and since he’s not here to object, sure. I like hanging this on him. And what, suddenly he’s your new best friend?”
“He got hurt making sure you didn’t.” Gib took her face in his hands. “Xander could have been sewing you up tonight. Or worse.”
“Apologize,” Bianca reminded him, and had Gib casting his eyes to the ceiling.
“I’m sorry I said you were selfish. You’re not. I was mad.”
“It’s okay. I am selfish when it comes to you. I love you. I love you,” she repeated, sliding into his arms, reaching for her mother’s hand. “I don’t know who’s doing this, or why, but I’m afraid now. At both scenes he’s left something from Sirico’s.”
“Sirico’s?” Gib repeated.
“One of the matchboxes at the school, a dinner napkin tonight. He’s telling me he can walk in there, get to you. He’s telling me . . .” Her voice wavered. “I’m afraid that he might try to hurt one of you. I couldn’t stand it.”
“Then you know how we feel about you. Go, get a little sleep. We’ll lock up on our way out.”
“But—”
Bianca squeezed Gib’s hand before he could speak. “Get some rest,” Bianca continued. “Don’t worry any more tonight.”
When they were alone, Gib whispered to his wife, “You’re not thinking about leaving her alone.”
“We’re going to leave her alone. We have to believe in her, and she has to know we believe in her. It’s so hard.” She pressed her lips tight for a moment, steadied her voice. “It never stops being hard to step back from your babies. But you do it. Come on, let’s lock up. We’ll go home and worry about her.”
The phone woke her at five forty-five. Reena clawed her way through the sticky syrup of exhaustion, fumbled on the light, then the recorder.
“What?” she mumbled into the receiver.
“Just weren’t quick enough, were you? Not as smart as you think you are.”
“But you’re smart, aren’t you?” She chained back her temper. “Except, you know, that was a lot of trouble, a lot of bang to take out a truck. Plenty more where that came from.”
“Bet he’s pissed.” There was a low laugh. “Wish I’d seen his face when it blew.”
“You should’ve stuck around. If you had balls, you’d have stuck around for the show.”
“I’ve got balls, bitch. You’ll be licking them before we’re done.”
“If that’s all you want, tell me where and when.”
“My time, my place. You don’t get it, do you? Even after tonight you don’t get it. You’re supposed to be the smart one, but you’re just a dumb whore.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If that’s the case, why don’t you give me a couple hints. The game’s no fun if I’m lagging behind. Come on,” she coaxed, “let’s play.”
“My game, my rules. Next time.”
When he hung up, she sat back. Her mind was working now, cleared of sleep and working fast.
Don’t get it, do you, even after tonight?
What came out of tonight? she asked herself. He uses different methods, different types of targets. He doesn’t stick with the same MO, the same targets as a more typical serial arsonist would.
He leaves something from Sirico’s as a signature. As a message to her.
Someone she’d taken there in the past? O’Donnell was looking at Luke, and Luke hadn’t had any love for the shop. But Luke was in New York. It was possible, of course, that he drove down to Baltimore, but why would he? Why would he harass her after all these years?
And the syntax was wrong, the pattern of it. Luke could do that deliberately, to throw her off. But again, why?
Added to it, he didn’t know anything about fire, about explosives. Other than having his Mercedes torched, he . . .
She sat straight up.
“Oh God!”
It wasn’t the same—not exactly. Bo’s truck hadn’t been broken into, the interior fired, the alarm disengaged. But . . .
Gas poured on the engine, on the tires, under the chassis, the device in the gas tank.
All those years ago. Could this be the same person? Not someone who’d wanted to attack Luke, not someone with a grudge against Luke.
But her. All this time.
But so much damn time, she thought, getting up to pace herself through it. Six years? Had there been incidents between she hadn’t clicked into? Fires she’d investigated that were his work?
She’d have to go through the open files, the cold cases. Anything that had come through the unit and hadn’t been closed.
How far back had it started? How long had he been gearing himself up to make personal contact with her?
A cold chill squeezed her heart, had her stopping. She could feel the blood draining out of her face even before she turned and ran down the stairs.
Her hands shook as she grabbed the notes she’d brought home from Bo’s kitchen. The notes of her conversation with the arsonist.
Just think abt it, she’d written in the bastard shorthand she used during interviews. thk abt all the men you let fk you rgt bk to the 1st.
“The first,” she murmured, and sank slowly to the floor. “Josh. Oh, Mother of God. Josh.”
24
At five minutes to eight, Reena banged on Bo’s front door and kept banging until he answered.
His eyes were heavy, his hair pancaked on one side of his head, spiked on the other. He wore nothing but a pair of blue boxers and a sleepy scowl.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Sure, sure, come on in,” he muttered when she breezed right by him. “Have a seat. Want some breakfast? I’m here to serve.”
“I’m sorry I had to wake you, and I know you had a bad night, but this is important.”
He jerked a shoulder, cursed when his injured arm objected to the movement. Then he turned his back on her and shuffled toward