I’ll stop him.

• • •

Kenton went to the hospital first. He wanted to check on the firefighter and see for himself how Wade Copeland was doing. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and the guy’s wife kept crying the whole time he was there.

By the time he left, his shoulders were stiff and a dull throb pounded behind his right eye. Kenton headed for the parking garage and froze when he saw Frank Garrison.

It’s not one of us.

Garrison was walking toward the hospital with his head down. Kenton shifted and blocked his path.

Garrison looked up, and a frown flickered over his face. “Special Agent? What are you—”

“I just stopped by to see Copeland.” His gaze swept Garrison’s face. The chief looked haggard, with deep shadows lining his eyes. Kenton hesitated. Hell, Lora would be pissed at this, but he had to do his job. “When we were at the station before, where’d you go?”

Garrison blinked at that.

“When the call came in about the Randall fire, you weren’t there.” Kenton lifted a brow. “But you sure did make it to that crime scene fast.” Fast enough to beat him.

Garrison’s jaw locked. “I was scheduled to do a safety program for some elementary kids. The school was a few blocks away from Randall’s place, Agent Lake. I was with the kids when I got the call—and that’s why I was able to get to the scene so fast.”

Garrison shoved by him.

“Lora respects you,” Kenton said the words quietly.

The chief halted. “I respect her. The woman isn’t scared of anything.” He paused. “She’s smart, and she’s strong, and I don’t know why the hell she’d waste her time with you.”

Kenton took the hit because he figured the chief was entitled to his anger. He watched Garrison hurry toward the wide hospital doors.

Garrison’s story would be easy enough to check out. And if he found out that Garrison was lying…

Then the next time he questioned the chief, he’d do it at the police station.

Thirty minutes later, Kenton walked into Seth MacIntyre’s office and stopped dead. His eyes locked on the bulletin board hanging on the right wall. The one lined with pictures of burnt bodies and flames.

Monica rammed into him. “Kenton, what are you—”

He stepped to the side and heard her quick intake of breath.

“They’re his.” Seth rose from his desk and jerked his thumb toward the photos. “I–I’ve been going back over all the cases, trying to find a link.”

Christ, that shit was bad. And during his time on the force and then in the Bureau, he’d sure seen his share of horrific crimes. But…

Kenton forced his eyes away from the photos. “Did you find a link?” Lora’s ex-lover was up there. Damn good thing he hadn’t brought her with him. He didn’t want her seeing that.

But she’d been there that night. She’d seen him like that, up close and personal.

Then the woman had gone right back out and walked into the flames again.

“Actually…” Seth licked his lips. “I did find something.”

Monica brushed by him. “Then don’t keep us waiting, MacIntyre.” While Monica pretended to be all icy and controlled, deep inside, she was just human. And he’d seen the brief flinch from the corner of his eye when she’d caught a glimpse of those photos.

Her shell had cracked, just a bit.

Seth rummaged through the mountain of files on his desk. “The station logs…”

Kenton’s brows rose.

“I’ve been—I’ve been going back over every detail of these fires.”

“You know there was another arson last night.” Monica’s voice was smoother now. Her control was coming back. “Wade Copeland was injured. He’s in the burn unit at Memorial Infirmary.”

His face paled even as he gave a quick nod. “I–I know. I’ve got men working the scene right now.” He lifted a file, and his fingers trembled. “I’m heading down to the scene next, but I wanted to talk to you first.” He offered the file to Kenton. “Might be nothin’…”

That was what they had so far.

Kenton took the file and flipped through the pages. Monica sidled up next to him for a better look. Seth had circled a name, a firefighter who’d been present at the first three Phoenix fires.

Lora Spade. Yeah, they already knew about her, but—

“Frank—he rotates his teams,” Seth said. “But Lora, even with the rotation, she was on the scene for Langley, Hatchen, and Skofield’s deaths.”

Kenton lifted his gaze. “And you think this is important to the killer?” Having Lora there? Coincidence, nothing more. Not like the guy knew when she’d be on duty.

He stiffened.

Watching.

Sonofabitch.

Seth’s chin lifted. “I think it’s a link.” His voice came stronger now. The guy wasn’t backing down or getting intimidated. Good for him. “The only one I’ve found so far.”

“The victims are the link.” Kenton knew that. He closed the file but didn’t hand it back to Seth. “And we’re ripping their lives apart to find out why. Their deaths weren’t nice and neat, and I’m betting their lives weren’t either.”

Seth’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I think the killer’s watching the station,” Seth said, his voice firmer. “Lora Spade, Rick Suvalis, and Max Quint are the three most decorated firefighters at that station. They’ve been profiled in the papers.” His hands shoved back down and pulled up another file, one overflowing with computer-printed stories from newspapers. He shoved this file at Kenton, too. “They’re the ones people know. Hell, they even go to all the schools and talk to the kids. They’re the ones people see.”

Kenton glanced down at the file. Had they been the ones the killer saw?

“He uses liquid accelerants—gas, turpentine, alcohol… He soaks the fire zone, and then he traps the victims inside the fire—”

“Michael Randall wasn’t trapped,” Monica broke through Seth’s words. “He could have left on his own, gotten out any time.”

And not tried to take a firefighter down with him.

“Randall was trapped.” Seth’s hands hit the pile on his desk and sent papers flying. “I knew that kid. Hell, I worked with him.” His emotion broke through the surface and choked his words. “The minute the fire started, he wouldn’t have been able to leave. It was a compulsion for him; he had to watch the flames.”

“He didn’t just watch.” Kenton’s grip on the files tightened. “He lit himself on fire and went after Wade.”

Seth swallowed, the soft click audible.

“You worked with him?” Kenton asked carefully.

“Yeah. Garrison and me—we visited with him. Malone said his therapists thought talking with us might help him.”

Guess that didn’t work so well.

“How many more?” Monica asked.

The arson investigator blinked. “Uh, what? I’m not sure I understand—”

“The PD is pulling arson files to make sure no other firestarters are on the streets that we don’t know about but…” Her head cocked to the right. “You work these cases day in and day out. You know the arsonists, don’t you?”

A grim nod.

“How many more are living in the area?”

His eyes darted between them. “Uh, n-none that fit the MO here—”

“How many,” Kenton demanded.

“Three, that I know of.” Seth’s shoulders straightened. “A woman, Margie Dawson. She got out last May. But she’s—she was hurt real bad in the last fire. She can’t get around so good anymore.”

“Who else?”

“Sean Kennedy. Fifty-five, um, he likes to burn rental houses. He’s a scammer people try to use for insurance fraud. Sean likes the fires as well as the money, though.”

Kenton saw Monica’s brows rise. “And the last one?”

“Howard Tate. He’s into electrical fires. Rigging them, then watching the houses blow.”

Great. Just f**king great. These perps were out there, and Lora was walking right into their fires.

“We want all of your files,” Monica told him.

Seth glanced down at the chaos that was his desk. “Help yourself.” He grabbed his bag. “I got a scene to work.” Seth walked around the desk, his limp slowing him just a bit.

Kenton stepped in front of him. “I think I’ll come along.” So his last trip to an arson scene had ended with him on the ground and a roof nearly smashing his head in. This time, he’d stay on guard.

Every single minute.

The loud ringing of the phone woke her. Lora rolled over, tossed out her hand, and snagged the receiver. “Hello?”

“He’s awake, Lora.”

Frank’s voice.

She shot up in bed. “Wade? Wade’s up?” Her heart jumped in her chest.

“Yeah. Hot damn, he’s talking.” Excitement had his voice breaking. “You saved him! Docs say he’ll pull through! He’ll need some grafts, some therapy, but he’ll make it!”

There were voices in the background, laughing and talking. Their volume rising fast.

“We ain’t losing him, not like—” Frank broke off.

And right then, the silence was defeaning.

Like Carter.

She licked lips that felt numb. “I’m glad. Tell Sherri”—Wade’s wife of two months—“I’m glad he’s gonna make it.” Thank you, God.

Because she hadn’t wanted to bury another friend, hadn’t wanted to see the dark casket slide into the ground. All the damn flowers surrounding the giant hole in the ground, their scent choking her.

“I’ll tell her.” Silence, then, “Lora? Lora, you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“You did damn good, you hear me? You got him out. You did damn good.”

“Thanks, Chief.” She hung up the phone. Lora stared down at her hands and saw the splatter of teardrops hit her fingers.

“Heard you and Lora are getting… close.”

Seth’s words froze Kenton right in front of the hollowed-out shell of the Randalls’ house on Millway. “And where the hell did you hear that?”

Seth glanced back, his eyes narrowed. “I used to work in that station. I got friends there, and station gossip travels fast.”

And Lora had bold-as-you-please announced to her chief that they were sleeping together. Kenton grunted. “Don’t really see how this is any of your business.”

Two men came out. They pushed a gurney, one carrying a zipped-up black bag. Randall.

That bag sure didn’t look very big.

“Lora and I don’t always see eye to eye.”

Kenton glanced back at him.

“But I respect her, and I respected Carter. I was there that night. When Carter got caught in the flames, I saw her—” His lips pressed into a thin line. “Lora needs to heal. She hasn’t had time to—”

Fuck this. Kenton stepped close to him, toe-to-toe. “Work the case and let me f**king worry about Lora.” Because the last thing he needed was this prick telling him how to handle his woman.

Oh, Christ.

The thought registered two seconds too late.

His.

But she was. Because even in the midst of this hell, he could smell her. Her scent was on him, pushing back the smoke. He could taste her, feel her against him.

“She’s using you, man.” Seth’s hands formed tight fists. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I know her, and I’m trying to help you.”

Like he needed this shit.

“She’s done it before, Lake. You’re not him. She won’t—”

What the hell? “Work the damn case,” he ordered. Because this guy was pushing, and in another three seconds, Kenton was gonna push back.

Seth whirled around and almost slammed into the guys hauling out a second gurney, one carrying another black bag.

Two? “No one told me there was another body inside.” Monica hadn’t known either. This changed things. Shit.

Seth tossed a fast glance over his shoulder. “Michael Randall started playing with fire when he was six years old, right around the time his mother started burning him with her cigarettes.” Seth’s eyes glittered at him. “Hailey… had a bad problem with booze.”

The gurney rolled past them, the wheels grinding.

“To a screwed-up kid, fire became love.” Seth shook his head. “This time, he showed his mother one hell of a lot of love.”

Hell. “You knew about the second body? Why didn’t you tell us?”

Seth held up his phone. “Got the call on the way here. Haven’t ID’d her yet, won’t, until the dental records come back, but I know Hailey was here. This was her place. Techs say her booze started the fire.”

No, that would have been her son.

Right around the time his mother started burning him with cigarettes. Fuck. Didn’t people understand? Didn’t they get it? Half the bastards he chased, they weren’t evil because of some chemical imbalance. They were twisted because they’d been taught to act that way.

A victim one day, a killer the next. It was the way nature worked.

Kenton felt the same disgust that he saw in Seth’s eyes as they watched the two bags get loaded into the van. Two lives gone. Hauled away like garbage.

“Come on, Special Agent,” Seth said as he grabbed some airtight containers from the back of the vehicle. Evidence collection. “Let’s go work the f**king case.”