Up in Flames. Rita Herron
see him burning down his bar to collect insurance, not and risk lives and homicide charges.”
“Anyone suspicious on your list?” Black asked.
“Struck out so far.”
His coworkers offered similar reports.
“So no one saw anyone set the fire,” Black said. “Then how did it get started?”
“The bar has a smoking section,” a young rookie speculated.
“So you think someone dropped a cigarette and the place went up in flames?” Black asked.
One of the crime scene investigators, a female named Marcy Lucerne, spoke up. “The fire seemed to have spread too rapidly for that. There were also indicators of more than one point of origin, that the fire started in at least three different locations within the bar.”
“So, our unknown subject, UNSUB, walked around the room dropping cigarettes or lit matches?” Bradford asked, not quite picturing that scenario.
Lucerne shrugged. “I’m just telling you what the evidence shows. Problem is, trace found no signs of an accelerant.”
“The alcohol in the bar was the perfect accelerant,” Bradford muttered.
A debate between the officers over theories broke out, but Black silenced them. “All right, all right. This is not helping. We need more facts, some concrete evidence. Two people were killed in that fire and one of our own seriously injured.” He paused. “Anything new on the other three fires?”
A negative response rippled through the room.
“Detective Walsh, it’s my understanding that you’ve researched arsonists. Can you give us a preliminary profile of our suspect?”
Bradford winced internally, wondering how many of his fellow officers here knew his history. Black did, and had accepted him without question. But some of the others might not be so amenable.
“Certainly.” He stood, faced the group, trying to recall the details he’d learned as his brother’s criminal activities had become evident.
“Arson is the nation’s fastest growing crime. Around fifty percent of arsonists are under eighteen years of age. If adults, most are in their twenties, never over thirty-five. Ninety percent are males, seventy-five percent white.” He paused, trying to focus on the present, on helping Parker. Not on picturing Johnny’s face in his mind.
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