“She sleeps like a rock,” Vail said. “Never gets up in the middle of the night.”
“Still, we want to be absolutely sure before we pull the trigger. You know?”
“Yeah, fine.” She moved to the front window and peeked through the curtain. “I see a late model pickup halfway down the block and something behind it, looks like an old sedan.”
“Anything else? You see anyone?”
Vail swung her gaze left and right. “No.”
Again. A thump.
“This way. Definitely out back.” He led her to the rear door and they took up positions on either side.
“Ready?”
Robby tilted his head. “I guess so.”
Vail pulled on the knob and Robby pivoted into the yard—where he came face-to-face with a raccoon creeping out of the crawlspace beneath the house. It saw him and got up on its hind legs.
“Are you serious?” He stepped toward the animal. “Get out of here. Go on!”
It turned and scurried off.
“A raccoon ruined our night’s sleep?”
Robby yawned. “Apparently. Either I’m sleeping like a log or you’re sleeping lightly.”
“This Marcks case has me a little jumpy. With him out there somewhere, it’s a perpetual feeling of unease. I’m worried about Jasmine.”
He led Vail back into the bedroom, where they reholstered their weapons. “Look, it was her decision to go it alone, without your help.”
“Only because we failed her. The cop paid with his life, which sucked big time. But I can’t fault her. I might’ve done the same thing.”
Robby groaned as he pulled the covers back over his body, shivering from the now-cold sheets against his now-cold body. “You’ll catch him soon.”
Vail sat up in bed, her mind a tangle of competing thoughts on the case. “Yeah,” she said absentmindedly. But it didn’t matter because Robby was already asleep.
37
Vail spent the morning at the BAU planning the interview that she had requested with the owners of the Lake Ridge home and setting up a secure Skype connection with the Cleveland field office agents.
“Knock, knock.”
She looked up from her desk and found Art Rooney standing there.
“Got a minute?”
“I’ve got five.”
Rooney grinned. “Good. I only need two. Want to know what I just found out?”
Vail lifted her brow. “Let me guess. Forensics on that new arson scene.”
“The accelerant.”
She leaned back in her desk chair. “What was it?”
“Kind of interesting. So you know the common ones: petrol, kerosene, mineral turpentine, diesel. Complex mixtures of hydrocarbon molecules.”
“Yeah, that much I remember.”
“Well, my guy didn’t use any of these—which are all pretty much readily available. For some reason, he used a non-halogenated ether.”
“Ether.” Vail drew her chin back.
“I know, not something you’re familiar with.”
“No, that’s not it. I came across it. Recently, too.”
“Well, it’s not rare or anything like that. It’s a chemical used in all sorts of things. When I was a kid they sprayed a variant of it, ethyl chloride, on baseball players who got hit with a pitch to freeze the area and reduce the swelling.”
“No, I mean I saw it in a case of mine.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s what Marcks used to subdue his victims. He soaked a cloth with ether and then held it over their mouths and noses.” Vail thought a second, then said, “Wait, you said your arsonist used it as an accelerant?”
“The kind he used is very volatile. Extremely flammable. Gives off irritating or toxic fumes—or gases—in a fire when exposed to open flames, sparks, that sort of thing. Gas/air mixtures are explosive. So when combined with what we found there—a Sterno flame—it’d work pretty damn well. Unconventional, but effective.” Rooney handed her a folder. “Copy of the forensics reports for you to read while you’re eating breakfast.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Unfortunately, we’ve got laboratory proof of how well that chemical works as an accelerant. It’s the same non-halogenated ether used in this UNSUB’s other arsons.”
“That’s weird, though, don’t you think?”
“That he used an unusual accelerant? It’s not unheard of.”
“No. I mean, on a basic level, he had reasonable access to common accelerants, but he used an uncommon one. Why would be a key question. But I was referring to the fact that the accelerant used in your arson cases is the anesthetic used in my serial killer cases. Bizarre, don’t you think?”
“Not necessarily. Coincidence, if that. Now if you traced the chemical to a specific manufacturer and batch number in your case that matched the manufacturer and batch number used in my case, yeah, then I’d say it’s obviously related. But that’s not what we’ve got here.”
Vail shrugged. “If you say so.”