Fireproof (Maggie O'Dell #10)

“But someone who’s done it before and is most likely planning on doing it again?” Racine didn’t buy their explanation. “Wouldn’t he be more careful?”


“Serial criminals don’t expect to be caught,” Maggie told her. “The fact that they’ve gotten away with it several times usually makes them more reckless, not more cautious.” She turned toward the alley. “Can you show me exactly where the body was?”

Tully led the way. Everyone else had gone. Ganza was the last to collect his samples. That’s why the movement at the other end of the alley was so easy to spot.

The man was hunched down, sneaking underneath the rusted stairs of a fire escape, staying along the far wall. He was about twenty feet from the alley’s exit. He froze and stayed low in the shadows, apparently unaware that Tully had seen him.

Maggie thumped the back of her hand into Tully’s arm. Racine stopped cold.

“So the body was by the Dumpster,” Maggie said casually, keeping her gait steady, her voice even.

Each of their steps came with a crunch, telegraphing their approach. Had the arsonist come back? It wouldn’t be the first time. He must have been waiting around and thought they were finally finished.

Racine reached inside her jacket. Maggie touched her elbow and shook her head. She waved her thumb over her shoulder and Racine got the hint.

“Hey, I’ve got to make a call,” she said. “I’ll catch up with you two later.”

She turned a bit too quickly on the balls of her feet, but otherwise Tully thought she did a fine acting job. Racine had just cleared the corner to the entrance when they got to the Dumpster.

The guy started slithering along the wall again, and Tully wanted to stop him. If he got to the exit a few strides ahead, he might get away. Tully tried to remember what was on the other side of the alley. Another street. He could hear the traffic.

He didn’t need to make the decision. The guy stood and broke into a full-throttled run. Tully did, too. The guy was fast. Not so fast that he couldn’t sling a backpack under Tully’s feet, and Tully came down hard. His elbow smashed against the pavement with a sick crack. Pain shot up his shoulder, all the way to his back molars.





CHAPTER 22




Maggie hurdled over Tully’s long sprawled legs. She glanced back and heard him yell, “Go, go. I’m okay.”

His face was contorted in pain and Maggie knew he wasn’t okay, but she kept going.

“FBI, stop,” she yelled at the man as he got to the end of the alley.

He didn’t even flinch. Slowed just enough to skid around the corner.

Maggie followed. Depending on which building Racine was coming around it could be Maggie’s footrace to lose.

The man looked over his shoulder. He saw how close she was and jolted into the street. He danced through traffic. Brakes screeched. Horns blasted. The hydraulics of a Metro bus whined and the man bounced off its bumper. He didn’t look hurt. If anything, it had propelled him a few steps more ahead of her.

Once back on the sidewalk the guy broke into a sprint, weaving and shoving his way through. There weren’t many people. Most were homeless. They moved slowly or simply stood and watched. Maggie was a runner, tracking ten to twenty miles a week. Ordinarily this footrace would be a cakewalk. Not today. The thump in her head was accompanied now by a ringing in her ears. But she stayed with him.

He darted around a corner. Just as Maggie got there a shopping cart came barreling into her. She grabbed the front. Kept the cart from tipping and spilling all the tattered possessions inside. Its owner came next. The poor woman screamed at Maggie, fists raised, ready to do battle. Maggie swung the cart over to her and started running again. She had taken her eyes away for only a second or two, but now she couldn’t see the man.

She stopped. Waited. Let her eyes check over the door wells. There were no alleys in this block. He couldn’t have made it around the corner and she didn’t see him across the street.

She was breathing hard. Adrenaline pumping. Ears now a high-pitched hum. The thump at her temple had accelerated. Between it and the hammering of her heart, she couldn’t focus. Her vision blurred a bit. She leaned a palm against the cold brick building. That’s when she realized that she could see her reflection on the windows across the street.

She started out again, slower this time. Walking and watching the reflections ahead of her. She stayed close to the building. Still, she didn’t see him. Could he have darted into one of these buildings?

She craned her neck to look for a business sign and noticed there weren’t any fire escapes on this side, not even a rusted ladder. There were no low windows. Only one doorway, and it looked bolted. All of these buildings appeared to be warehouses or storage facilities.

How could he have just disappeared?