The Suicide Club

Three rural black churches in the county had been torched on separate nights last July. Although no additional fires had occurred during August, the initial three continued to get top billing in both the state and national media.

“I’m sorry. You must think I’m very slow,” Lindsey said, “but I still don’t understand why you want to see me.”

“We’ve been working with the FBI to develop a profile of the people who set those fires.” Nolan’s voice was deep, its accent decidedly not local.

Nor was his appearance. The dark suit was too stylishly cut. And probably too expensive for this setting. His hair was a little long. Not nearly conservative enough for someone associated with local law enforcement. She wondered how the good old boys in the department related to Lieutenant Nolan.

Of course, her idle curiosity had no relevance to this discussion. And based on the intensity of the detective’s gaze, she had the distinct impression that she’d better get focused on what Nolan was saying rather than on what he looked like before something important slipped by her.

“And that profile led you to me?”

She thought she’d figured out where this was going, but she wanted him to put it into words. At least she now understood Dave’s uneasiness.

“Actually, it led us to the students you teach.”

Randolph-Lowen wasn’t the only high school in the county. It was, however, the one designated to provide services for the gifted. A few kids even came from outside the county because they didn’t have access to appropriate resources at the schools to which they were zoned.

“Are you saying your profile indicates the arsonists have high IQs?” All those old wives tales about that supposedly thin line between genius and insanity reared their ugly heads.

Before she could begin to dispute them, Nolan added, “And that they’re young. White. Male.”

Lindsey glanced at Dave, wondering why he wasn’t objecting to this. Profiling wasn’t a science. The description the detective had just given with such an air of confidence might be wildly inaccurate.

Besides, even if there were something to what he’d just said, there was nothing the school could do to help him narrow his search. She wasn’t going to start suggesting that one child or another might be involved in something as high-profile as this crime. That would be a quick way to a suspension followed by a lawsuit.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I don’t think I can help you.” She’d already turned toward the door when Dave stopped her.

“Lindsey, this isn’t what you think.”

“Then what is it?” She looked from one to the other.

“The people who developed the profile believe this is a thrill crime,” Nolan said. “Something designed to get the adrenaline pumping.”

Despite her doubts about the methodology, she thought that was probably an accurate description. She just didn’t see what it had to do with her. Or with her students. “And?”

“Once they’ve experienced that rush,” Nolan said, “they’re going to want it again.”

“And you think other churches will be burned.”

Even given her animosity toward the investigative process he’d described, she didn’t want that to happen. Not only did those small congregations suffer a huge emotional and financial loss, the entire region had received yet another black eye through the lawlessness of a few individuals.

“We can almost guarantee it.”

“Even if I had a suspicion that any of my students were involved—and I assure you I don’t—I wouldn’t feel comfortable discussing those with the police.”

“Those churches were all within a twenty-five mile radius of this high school. If you take a map—”

“I’m sure you have. Believe me, we all understand that the people of this county are suspects. But even if this community is at the center of the area where the fires occurred, that doesn’t mean any student from this school set them. Nor does your profile, no matter who composed it.”

“Profiling gives us a place to start. This is it.”

Lindsey looked at Dave, wanting him to defend the kids of this community. It wasn’t that none of them had ever been in trouble. Or that she thought they couldn’t be. Not after ten years in the profession. But she also wasn’t stupid enough to believe that just because the school sat in the geographic center of the area where the arsons had occurred, that meant the people involved in them attended it.

Dave shrugged, seeming to indicate he was bowing to what he saw as inevitable. Maybe Nolan had shared more information with him. Considering what he’d shared with her, however, Lindsey wasn’t willing to be sucked in. Not until one or the other of them leveled with her.

“Anything other than that profile and the proximity to the fires that makes you think my students might be involved?”

There was a flash of something in those dark eyes. The emotion was quickly masked, but not fast enough that she didn’t wonder if he was laughing at her reluctance to believe her kids could be involved in something like this.

“Those aren’t enough?” His tone was devoid of sarcasm.

“Not for me, I’m afraid. Look, if I thought any of my students were involved, I might feel differently. But as of now I have no reason to think they are. I’ve had no reason to even think about the possibility until you showed up this morning.”

“And if you did have a reason?”

“I’d talk to someone I trusted about it.”

“Like Dr. Campbell?”

Although Dave hadn’t finished his doctorate, neither of them corrected him. “Only if I couldn’t resolve those feelings in my own mind.” Lindsey said.

“My best advice, Ms. Sloan, is that if you develop ‘those feelings,’ you don’t try to resolve them. Here’s my card. I’d appreciate a call if you have any reason to…shall we say…reflect on the possibility that our profile has merit.”

The phrasing was careful, perhaps intended not to offend. The look in his eyes was not quite in keeping with it.

“Of course.”

Lindsey accepted the card he held out, making a show of looking down at it. The first thing she noted was his first name. Jace. The second thing she noted was something far more disturbing: the fact she had been wondering about that.

Jace Nolan. Who was very obviously from somewhere far from here. And very much outside the norm of men she knew.

She raised her eyes from the card, again finding his on her face. “Is that all?”

“You can call me if you think of anything I should know.”

Not exactly what she’d meant, but clearly a dismissal. She quickly took advantage of it. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

She turned and walked to the door, conscious that they were both watching her. When she’d closed it, she leaned against its solid wood, releasing a breath as she thought about the interview that had just passed.

Before it seemed possible that either of the men inside the room had had time to walk across it, the door opened behind her. Slightly off balanced, she tried to get out of the way of the man who emerged.

“Sorry.” Jace Nolan put his hand under her elbow in an attempt to steady her.

“My fault. I should have moved out of the doorway.”

Now try to explain why you didn’t.

“No harm done. Have a good day, Ms. Sloan.”