Firestorm

  “Obviously.”

  “So get your ass in gear and find that path.”

  I didn't do it, did I?” She got out of bed and walked over to the window. “I found your damn path and I settled into your damn influence center and zilch.”

  “I warned you it might not work with me.”

  “It might if you'd lowered your blasted protective barriers just a little. Would that have been too much to ask?”

  “Yes. I gave you all I could.” He was silent a moment, his gaze on her tense back. “You've learned a lot, and you'll learn more with practice.”

  “But I don't know if it will work with Trask. Maybe he'll know I'm there. Maybe I won't be able to find my way through that cesspool of a mind. Maybe when I thought I was pushing with you, it wasn't happening.”

  “You were pushing.”

  “How much? Enough?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Neither do I. It's like stumbling in the dark, and I won't be sure until I run into Trask.”

  “That's what I've been trying to tell you.” He headed for the door. “And now I'm going to bed. You may not realize it, but you wore me out.”

  “Yeah, keeping me from seeing anything, keeping me from making a dent, you secretive bastard.”

  “I'm glad you're beginning to understand me so well. See you after you've had some sleep.”

  She watched the door close behind him.

  Loneliness.

  Jesus, it wasn't bad enough that she felt a sense of desolation when they separated mentally. Now she was feeling physically lost when he wasn't in the same room.

  Get over it. It was all a part of this damn togetherness. Or if she couldn't get over it, just ride with it until she could bow out of his life.

  Loneliness.

  Pretend it was another wall to overcome. Chip away, and maybe she'd be better at pushing the loneliness away than she was at being on the attack.

  But there was no way she was going to be able to sleep right now. She'd done too much, and too little. So much for winding down. She felt as tense and strung out as a dope addict trying to go cold turkey. Hell, perhaps that merging between them was addictive. She'd become aware that the time she spent with Silver by the lake was lazily seductive, almost sensual in its beauty.

  Because he wanted it that way for her.

  Stop thinking about him. He was already dominating too much of her life. Take a shower and relax.

  She turned and headed for the bathroom. That was the right idea. A hot shower and she'd be fine. She'd be able to go to sleep and practice the control Silver had given her to push away all thought of him.

  She was out of the shower and drying off when her phone rang. She froze. It was after four in the morning. Jason?

  She hurriedly wrapped her towel around herself and ran out of the bathroom to pick up her cell phone on the night table.

  “You sound very alert for this hour of the morning. Am I keeping you awake, Kerry?”

  Not Jason. The man's voice wasn't familiar. It was deep, smooth, every syllable precisely enunciated. “Who is this?”

  “I believe you can guess. No, that's a childish game, and we're not children. This is James Trask.”

  Shock ripped through her.

  “You're not speaking,” Trask said. “Don't you believe it's me?”

  “Yes.” She had to steady her voice. “What do you want, Trask?”

  “I thought it was time we talked. I've been thinking about you a good deal lately.”

  “I can imagine. You're probably salivating over the idea of incinerating me like you did Joyce Fairchild.”

  “Oh, I'm way past that stage. I admit that was my first impulse. I was very annoyed that you managed to escape when I set Firestorm loose on you in Macon.”

  “My sister-in-law didn't escape. Her baby died.”

  “Do you expect me to regret that? They were in the way.” He paused. “It's really your fault the baby died. You shouldn't have teamed up with Silver.”

  “And that's your excuse?”

  “I don't make excuses. I'm just commenting.”

  His voice was casual, without expression, and she had to take a moment to smother the flare of anger. “Why did you call?”

  “I wanted to hear your voice. I've been sitting here looking at your photograph and thinking how alike we are.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He chuckled. “You sound so indignant. But it's true, Kerry. Think about it.”

  “You're a murderer. I don't have to think about it.”

  “Is that supposed to make me angry? Murder is only a word. You could probably kill given the right circumstances. Can't you think of one?”

  “No.”

  “What if you were able to kill me?”

  She drew a deep breath. “I'm going to hang up.”

  “I don't think you will. You're too curious about me. Just as I'm curious about you.”

  “I'm only curious about how a bastard like you justifies murder.”

  “The trick is not to try to justify, just accept. And your curiosity extends beyond that question. Why else did you go to Marionville?”

  She didn't answer. “Why did you follow me?”

  “For the same reason that drove you. I'm beginning to believe we're kindred spirits.”

  “No way.”

  “Did you enjoy the Krazky house? I was particularly proud of my work there.”

  “Three children died in that fire.”

  “Tim Krazky was a bully. I don't like bullies.”

  “So you killed him and his family.”

  “Fire cleans and destroys all the ugliness. Tim Krazky was very ugly.” He chuckled. “Though you'd think he was even uglier after the fire got through with him.”

  “My God, you're sick.”

  “I'd be insulted if I thought you really meant that. But I know it's just part of the battle you've been fighting all your life. You got off on the wrong path and you're blind to the truth, but that's okay. I'll teach it to you. Unless Firestorm has to kill you. I find I'm regretting that possibility. Isn't that strange?”

  “The battle I've been fighting is against people like you.”

  “There is no one like me. Except perhaps you.” He paused. “But you didn't answer me. If you had the opportunity to kill me, would you take it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was difficult, wasn't it? Most people find it hard to admit the capacity to kill. It's so much easier once you face your true self.”

  “Is this conversation going somewhere?”

  “You're cutting to the chase.” He chuckled. “I'd do the same. I knew we were alike the moment I watched you standing in those ruins at Marionville. I felt a closeness to you that I've never felt with anyone else before. We're two sides of the same coin.”

  “You don't know what you're talking about.”

  “I know exactly what I'm talking about. We both love the child.”

  “Child? Fire. You're talking about fire?”

  “Of course. You probably think you hate fire, but it's not true. It's dominated your life, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.”

  “You're crazy.”

  “No, you're just not seeing clearly. I believe it's my duty to open your eyes before the child takes you. My duty and my pleasure.”

  Smother the anger. “Then meet with me.”

  “You're not ready yet. You need to be seasoned. You need to feel the power of life and death and know that you're in control. There's nothing like that emotion on the face of the earth.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “You will. How is your dog?”

  The change of subject threw her off guard. “What?”

  “I've decided to let your wonder dog get in a little practice. I'm having to run a few tests to correct some problems in one of my pieces of equipment. It didn't work properly on your brother's house in Macon. I think I've made the right adjustment, but I need a trial run.”


  She felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. “Trial run? One of the people on your hit list?”

  “Oh, no. I have something else in mind. Something that will bring us together. I have a challenge for you. Do you know how many warehouses there are in the Washington area?”

  “I've no idea.”

  “Then you'd better find out. Or let your dog sniff it out. Now, what's his name? Oh, yes—Sam.”

  “You're saying you're going to destroy a warehouse.”

  “Yes. But it wouldn't be a true test unless there was something besides real estate to burn.” He paused. “I'm choosing very carefully. I want someone young, with her whole life before her. Maybe a teenage girl . . .”

  “You bastard.”

  “Yes, I can almost visualize her. A little plump, with long dark hair. Lovely, silky olive skin. If she wasn't wearing those hideous torn jeans, she'd look like a young Mona Lisa. So much potential and so little judgment.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Find the warehouse and maybe you'll find her.”

  “And expose myself so that you can kill me.”

  “There's always that possibility.” He sounded amused. “But how exciting it will be for you to find out if you value your own skin more than that poor innocent teenager. It will be a journey of self-discovery.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “It could be I'm bored and want to challenge myself and you. It could be that I want to draw you close to Firestorm and burn away all the lies you've been telling yourself.” He was silent a moment. “Or it could be because I'm lonely. You're the first woman I've felt this close to since Helen. It doesn't really matter which is true.”

  “Helen?”

  He ignored the question. “I'm hanging up now. I've enjoyed talking to—”

  “Wait. When are you—how much time do I have?”

  “Two days. Midnight. The infamous ticking clock. Isn't that exciting?” He hung up.

  Christ.

  She threw the phone down and ran toward the door. She had to get to Silver.

  Two days . . .

  For God's sake, stop shaking.” Silver grabbed a blanket from his bed and wrapped it around her. “It's going to be okay.”

  “You didn't hear him.” She clutched the blanket closer. Lord, she was cold. “He'll kill her.”

  “He may not even have a target in mind.”

  “He knows who she is. He's already decided who he's going to kill. I could feel it.”

  “A teenager. A warehouse.” Silver's forehead creased. “A runaway using a warehouse as base?”

  “It makes sense. Unless that's what he wants me to think.” She lifted a shaking hand to her temple. “But I don't think he was lying. He was enjoying it too much. He wanted me to know how bold and clever he is. He practically drew me a picture of her.”

  “Then maybe we can find her,” Silver said. “Or the warehouse.”

  “He asked me if I knew how many warehouses there were in this area. There could be hundreds, thousands.”

  Silver nodded. “But if this teenager is using the warehouse to live in, then she'd have to feel secure in the knowledge that she wouldn't be discovered. That means no security guards or people working in the place.”

  “Which doesn't narrow it down very much.”

  “We'll take what we can get.” He reached for the telephone. “And we need some help with those statistics.”

  “Who are you calling?”

  He was dialing quickly. “George.”

  He didn't give you any other hint, Kerry?” George asked. “It's not much info to go on.”

  “We've already established that fact,” Kerry said. “And I've told you everything Trask said. Judge for yourself.”

  “We are a bit testy, aren't we?”

  “There's a teenage kid who may die in order to draw me to that warehouse. You're damn right I'm testy.”

  “Easy,” Silver said.

  She whirled on him. “Stop that soothing bullshit. Nothing is easy about this. It stinks.” She turned back to George. “We're going to find that warehouse. Hell, he wants me to find it.”

  “Then he should have given you more information.”

  “But then it wouldn't be a challenge for me. Can't you see?”

  “He may call again.”

  She shook her head. “Only after he burns her to death.”

  “You seem certain.”

  “I'm beginning to know him. He'd call me and crow if I didn't find her. He might give me a second chance to stop another fire, but it would be too late for her.” She drew a shaky breath. “So narrow down those warehouses for us. Get on the phone and call all those computer gurus in the Secret Service and get me a list we can work with.”

  “The Washington area could include Baltimore and several towns in Virginia and—”

  “Then you'd better get on the ball, hadn't you?” Silver asked.

  George smiled. “I just wanted to point out what a difficult task you've set me. I wouldn't get any pleasure out of success if you didn't appreciate that failure is such a strong possibility. But don't worry, I'll persevere.” He turned to the door. “You'd better get her a cup of tea, Brad. She looks like she can use it.”

  “I don't want tea. I don't want any of your little civilized niceties. I'm feeling as barbaric as Attila the Hun at the moment.”

  “Ah, that's when you need those niceties the most,” he said as he shut the door behind him.

  “He didn't tell us how long it would take.” Kerry shook her head. “What am I thinking? How could he even know?”

  “I'll check with him after he talks to Secret Service headquarters. He'll have an idea then. It shouldn't take that long.”

  “It's just that there's no time. Trask's damn ticking clock.” She closed her eyes. “I can hear it. It's like a heartbeat. Her heartbeat.”

  “No matter what happens, it's not your fault, Kerry.”

  “That's not going to help if I have to watch her burn to death.” Her lids lifted. “Who is Helen?”

  “The woman he said he'd been close to?” He shrugged. “I don't know. There's nothing about her in the dossier I received on Trask.”

  “I know.” After Joyce Fairchild's death Kerry had forced herself to go over every detail of Trask's dossier. “But she meant something to him. Maybe she still does. I need to know about her.”

  “I'll call Travis and see if he can tap some of his sources and dig deeper.”

  “I'd think they would have already done that.”

  “Me too.”

  “It doesn't make sense.” She thought about it. “Unless they don't want anyone to know who she is. Maybe she's under the witness-protection program or something.”

  “There's no use guessing. We'll find out. No last name?”

  She shook her head. “I've told you everything.” She grimaced. “Not that you probably wouldn't have known anyway. But this is one time I don't want to keep anything to myself. I'm scared to death.”

  “You have a right to be.”

  “Oh, not because this is probably an elaborate trap. It's because he said we were alike.” She stopped. “It was a lie. I'm not like him.”

  “Of course you're not.”

  “When I dream of fire, it's a nightmare. Just because I keep having those dreams doesn't mean I have some sort of sick fascination.”

  “You're preaching to the converted.” His gaze searched her face. “Why are you even dwelling on that bastard's fantasies?”

  “I don't know. He was so . . . sure.” She tried to smile. “And he hit on the one insecurity that dominates my life.”

  “If he's sure, it's because he's talked himself into it.” He grasped her shoulders. “Take it from someone who knows. You have all sorts of guilt feelings, but your horror of fire is real. It's not some kind of charade you're hiding behind.”

  She drew a deep breath as relief rippled through her. Yes, Silver would know. Not that she'd really had any doubts. It had just been a thou
ght triggered in that hideous conversation. “Thank you.” Another thought occurred to her. “He says he's never felt closer to anyone than he does to me. Do you suppose on some level he's aware that I'm reading what he thinks?”

  “It's possible. It would be one explanation for his fascination with you. But you can be sure that it's not because you're soul mates.”

  “That's good to know.” She was suddenly aware of the warmth of his hands on her shoulders. Acutely aware. And even more aware of the response of her body to that touch. Dear God, not now. “Evidently you're not the only one who was able to tamper with my mind.” She stepped back, and his hands slowly fell away from her. “I have to go get dressed. I'll see you in the library after you've talked to Travis?”

  He nodded. “You're sure you don't want to try George's favorite antidote to the trials of life?”

  “I don't want tea.”

  “Then I could think of another antidote.”

  “No.” She grasped the blanket around her as she headed for the door. “I don't want you monkeying around in my head and trying to make everything all right.”

  “I had no intention of monkeying around in your . . . head.”

  She faltered in midstride. Don't look back at him. She didn't want to see what she knew she'd see.

  Hell, she didn't need to see his expression to know what he meant.

  She opened the door. “I'll find my own antidotes.”

  11

  Jesus, she was hungry.

  It would go away, Carmela thought as she made her way carefully up the rickety staircase to the third floor of the warehouse. Just think of something else right now. Tomorrow she'd go down to the Salvation Army on Third Street and let them feed her.

  God, she hated the idea of being a charity case. She'd had such big hopes when she left her mom's place in Louisville. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was going to be on her own and not have to take all the lies her mom and her new boyfriend had thrown at her. She'd had enough money to last a couple weeks, and getting a job would be a cinch.

  But the money hadn't lasted more than a few days, and no one wanted to hire a fifteen-year-old for anything but sex. Yeah, she'd run across plenty of pimps who were willing to help her sell her body.

  Screw them. She wasn't stupid. She knew that whoring was a one-way street, and she wasn't going down it. She'd take the charity and then she'd keep on looking for work. She wasn't beaten yet.