Baptism In Fire

She glanced at Luke. He was studying her silently. This conservation was getting way too personal for her comfort. She tore her gaze away and dived into relating what she’d found so far.

“Point of origin.” She pointed at the baseboard. “Your torch used charcoal lighter.”

“Charcoal lighter, huh? Well, he’s consistent. Same accelerant used at each scene.”

She nodded. “But he brings the Bible with him. It’s the same copyright and publisher as the others they found. Can’t be a coincidence. Probably symbolic of bringing God into the lives of his victims.”

“Why in there?” Luke motioned toward the empty closet.

Rachel stopped in the process of turning over a charred shoe with the point of the shovel. “I’m not sure yet, but offhand I’d say it plays a significant part in the religious fire ritual.”

Luke ran his fingers through his mane of black curls. “The religious fanatics are always the hardest to nail down.”

“Not necessarily a fanatic, but don’t rule it out. This is definitely someone with strong religious ties. This guy has it in his twisted mind that he’s carrying out some kind of holy punishment. Question is, what? And why these particular women?” And why include me in the count? “There must be something these women had in common beyond being single mothers, alone at night. When we figure that out, we’ll be on our way to catching whoever it is. I’d like to meet with the task force tomorrow.”

“No need.”

She started and turned to him. “I disagree. I need to meet with them ASAP.”

Luke leveled a stare at her. “You won’t be here.”

She knew in her gut what he was about to say. “What the hell is your problem, Luke? Why do you keep telling me to go home?”

“Dammit, Rachel. I won’t let you do this.”

“You won’t let…” She laughed. “Why this sudden concern about me?” When he didn’t answer, she planted her hands on her hips and faced him squarely. “Let’s get this out of the way so I can get on with my job. Do I threaten your—”

Before she could finish, Luke took a step forward and grabbed her arm with his free hand. “I know what this is going to resurrect for you, and I don’t want to put you through it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve given you enough to bear.”

Rachel frowned. The words were spoken so softly, she could barely hear them. That’s the closest he’d ever come to admitting he’d destroyed their marriage. But she didn’t want to discuss it. Not now. Maybe not ever. “We’ve been through all this. Bottom line is, A.J. wants me here, and I want to be here. End of story.”

“Then you plan on seeing this through?”

“Come hell, high water or Luke Sutherland,” she said.

Moments later, Luke watched Rachel drive off. No matter how much she denied it, he was certain this whole thing was ripping her gut apart a piece at a time. He wondered how long she’d be able to stand up to it.

Logically, he knew if they were going to nail this bastard, she was their best hope. He’d never met another investigator who could profile an arsonist the way she could. She seemed to have an inborn sense that led her to the torch, a way of putting herself in their heads. But this time was different from all the rest. This time she had a personal stake in finding the arsonist. Which was exactly why he worried that she was not emotionally equipped to see the job through without falling apart.

The Rachel he’d married had been strong, but that was before they’d lost Maggie. Afterward, he’d been so buried in his own guilt, he hadn’t seen her falling apart until it was too late. By then, he was trying to hold the pieces of himself together. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

The flaw in Rachel’s armor had always been her pride. She took pride in her work and pride in her abilities. And this time, if he didn’t find a way to stop her, that same pride could very well lead her into a place from which he’d never be able to bring her back.

Chapter 3

After leaving Luke, Rachel decided she could use some downtime, free from reminders of arsonists or Luke Sutherland, before going home to pore over case files again. What she needed, she decided, was a relaxing cup of coffee, with no one to bother her.

The smell of smoke still clung to her hair and skin. Though she’d worn the protective gear Sam had given her, a few black smudges of soot had managed to find their way onto her jeans. Oddly, she didn’t care. In fact, it brought with it a sense of having come home.

Determined to find the solitude she sought, she pulled into a parking space in front of the Latte Factory, a quaint little coffee shop nestled in a strip mall between a supermarket and a toy store, two blocks from her condo.

Purposefully, she turned off the engine, then switched off her cell phone, locked the car and headed for the front door.

She had barely settled at one of the wooden trestle tables facing the rest of the shop when Luke’s face appeared in her mind as clear as if he were sitting across from her. So much for forgetting. Instead of pushing the images away as she normally did, she allowed them to remain, to study him without him making assumptions about her inquisitiveness.

Time seemed to have ignored his craggy features and mesmerizing brown eyes. He had the same devil-may-care look about him as he’d had the day they’d met. Her heart had stopped then, just as it threatened to do now. Why couldn’t she look at him dispassionately, as she would any man on the street? Why did he have this tantalizing effect on her? The very last thing she wanted was to be affected by him in any way, and certainly not with the growing need she felt at each meeting.

She closed her eyes tight to erase his image.

“May I help you?”

Rachel jumped. Her eyes flew open.

A young waitress dressed in a cute French peasant’s outfit, the flouncy skirt short enough to be dangerous to bend over in and a name tag that proclaimed her to be Nina, stood beside her table and grinned down at her. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No problem. I was just daydreaming.” Day-nightmaring was more like it.

“What can I get for you?”

“A café au lait, please.”

“Foam or whipped cream?”

Though Rachel knew she could use a few calories to help replace the ten or so pounds she’d lost after Maggie’s kidnapping and never gained back, right now, after inhaling smoke all day, the idea of the sweet cream didn’t sit well with her empty stomach.

Rachel shook her head. “Foam, please.”

“You got it,” Nina said, and hurried back behind the counter.

Rachel glanced around the shop. The interior was warm and decorated to resemble an outside patio in the French countryside. Silk roses and plastic bunches of grapes hung from the fake-brick walls. Trestle tables nestled behind dividers that looked like garden planters, overflowing with greenery. The fragrant aroma of freshly ground coffee beans perfumed the air, along with the smell of the croissants that a sign proclaimed were baked on the premises. Next to it hung a picture of a mountain range advertising gourmet coffee.

Four other customers occupied the room. Two women sat at separate tables, both sipping large coffees. One of them had her head bent over a magazine, her long, chestnut hair falling forward to conceal most of her face. The other, a pretty, middle-aged blonde, stared out the large, plate-glass window, her expression vacant. A man sat in a corner pounding away on the keyboard of a small laptop and another man sat at the counter, his large beefy arms folded across his barrel chest, his gaze on Rachel.

Something about the way he locked his gaze with hers made Rachel cringe. Hoping to communicate her lack of interest, she quickly looked away.

It took a few moments before the unmistakable crawling sensation on her neck told her the man had not gotten the message. From the corner of her eye, she checked to see if she was right or just being paranoid. She was right. She twisted uncomfortably in the seat, turning half away from the counter and his piercing gaze.

Absently, she watched a gang of teenage boys pass in front of the window. One of the boys wiped a half-eaten apple over the hood of the car parked beside Rachel’s. She shook her head.

Nina returned with Rachel’s café au lait and placed the bill on the corner of the table. She reached for the slip of paper and in doing so was able to once more check on the man at the counter. He was still looking in her direction, his expression communicating his unmistakable interest.

For a time, Rachel stared at her coffee cup, absently tracing the logo of mountains with a coffee bean superimposed over it with the tip of her nail, hoping that if she ignored him, he’d lose interest. When she could stand it no longer, she glanced up to find him still staring at her. Just before she averted her gaze, she noted his sweeping inventory of her body. The jerk was trying to hit on her. A creepy chill shivered up her spine.

Unable to stand his appraisal any longer, she grabbed the bill and her coffee mug and made her way to the cash register. After Nina had transferred her coffee to a to-go cup, she paid her bill, then went to the ladies’ room to splash cold water on her face. Feeling more relaxed, she made her way back to the front section of the shop, noting as she did that everyone had left, except for the waitress washing cups behind the counter.