B007GFGTIY EBOK (11 page)

He looked to MDE’s neighboring businesses for help, but all he saw were empty parking lots and locked doors. MDE was the only business operating this Saturday.

The 911 operator came on the line.

“I’m at Marin Design Engineering off Tamalpais Drive. The place is on fire and people are burning inside.” He never stopped working at the glass doors while the operator got the details from him.

“The fire department has been dispatched,” the operator said.

Fire now glowed from behind the receptionist’s desk and smoke leaked from the doorframe. Hayden tossed his phone aside and threw his whole weight against the doors. The chain rattled from the blow. The doors took the impact and shoved him back.

“Break, you fucker,” he shouted.

Every second he took to break in the doors robbed the people inside of their chance of survival. He had to try one of the other doors. Maybe if he jammed the wrench on the side entrance’s doorframe, he could break in that way.

Hayden stepped back from the entrance. In the reflection of the doors, he saw a figure charging toward him from the parking lot. That was more like it. Finally, help had arrived.

Hayden had turned halfway toward his Samaritan to speak when the man plowed into him. The impact sent Hayden reeling. He slammed into the building, his head striking the stucco wall hard and leaving him dazed. Half-formed words spilled from his mouth a second before his assailant delivered a crunching blow to the side of his head. Fireworks filled Hayden’s vision, then died with his loosening grip on consciousness. His legs buckled and he slumped against the glass doors. He tried to focus on the man’s face but his view of the world was spinning. It turned black when the madman kicked him in the head and left him to burn with the other poor bastards inside.

A
repellent odor jerked Hayden from unconsciousness. It overwhelmed the stink of smoke trapped in his nose, mouth, and throat, which was some relief.

“You’re OK, buddy,” the paramedic standing over him said.

Hayden blinked until the soot clouding his vision was gone. He was lying on a gurney in the back of an ambulance. The ambulance doors were open and beyond them people shouted instructions over the growl of diesel engines.

“I need to get up,” Hayden said. He pushed himself onto his elbows. The moment he moved, a spike jabbed his brain.

The paramedic pushed him back down. “You ain’t going anywhere, pal.”

Hayden shoved him aside. He stumbled when he jumped down from the ambulance, but kept his footing. His head throbbed, and he felt the pressure of his injuries where he’d been kicked and punched. He dropped down hard onto the ambulance’s bumper.

The ambulance was fifty yards from what remained of Marin Design Engineering. Firefighters were winning the fight, but it looked too late for anyone inside. Two fire crews directed hoses into the building. They’d smashed in the front doors that he’d failed to penetrate. The fire looked to be out, but smoke still rose from the ruined building and it still looked too hot to enter. He heard the hiss of water striking the building at hundreds of gallons per minute, and a fire chief yelling to someone that the roof had caved in at the rear. The place would be a carcass by the time they got control.

All those people.

The paramedic blocked Hayden’s path. He tapped an ambulance-service patch stitched to his shirt. “Do you see this?”

Hayden nodded, careful not to set off the fireworks inside his head.

“It means I’m in charge. Have you got that?”

Hayden nodded again and let the paramedic help him back into the ambulance. The paramedic rushed through a brief exam, checking for injuries beyond the superficial.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Hayden Duke,” Santiago’s familiar voice answered for him.

The paramedic’s expression tightened. “Do you know what day it is, Hayden?”

“Saturday,” Hayden said, “and a bad one.”

“That’s right, Hayden,” the paramedic said. “You’re going to be OK. You need treatment for smoke inhalation.”

“He isn’t going anywhere,” Santiago interrupted. He climbed aboard the ambulance, eased the paramedic out of the way, and peered down at Hayden. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Shit,” Hayden sighed.

“Nice to see you again too, Mr. Duke,” Santiago said.

The paramedic objected, but Santiago’s big-dog bark subdued him. The detective grabbed Hayden’s bicep and pulled him out of the ambulance. The paramedic followed. Santiago put out a hand to him.

“You can have him, but when I’m finished with him. In the meantime, I’m sure someone else is in need of medical assistance.”

The paramedic sighed and shook his head disapprovingly. His colleague came jogging over from another ambulance. The paramedic stopped him with a raised hand. “We’re not wanted.”

Santiago walked Hayden toward the wreckage. He never released his grip on Hayden’s arm. It was a good thing, too. If it weren’t for Santiago’s grip, he would be flat on his face. The fire’s stench had left him light-headed.

“Have you seen this?” Santiago asked when they reached the fire department’s cordon.

“Yes.”

“You want to tell me about it?” Santiago shoved Hayden toward the ruins. “Again I find you at the scene of a tragedy,” he growled into Hayden’s ear. “But this time, there isn’t just one body. We’ve got multiple victims. How many died? Do you know?”

Hayden knew there had to be at least ten, but he didn’t want to think about it and shook his head.

“I don’t think I like your talent for disaster,” Santiago said.

Hayden shook the detective’s arm off and almost puked. “Don’t worry, neither do I.”

Santiago grunted. “You wouldn’t happen to be the anonymous phone caller who called in Mr. Chaudhary’s suicide, would you?”

“No.”

Santiago jerked his chin at MDE. “What happened?”

“I had an appointment with Trevor Bellis. My work for MDE was done. I came to hand over the drawings I did for them and return their specifications. When I got here, I thought there had been a problem with vandals.”

“What made you think that?”

“Someone had wrapped a chain around the front door handles and smashed the card-key entry system on the side entrance. This was definitely arson—you’re looking for a firebug.”

It was obvious from Santiago’s face that he didn’t like the burden of finding an arsonist rammed down his throat. He was the man in charge, not Hayden.

“You wouldn’t know the identity of my firebug would you?” Santiago said bitterly. “It would be greatly appreciated.”

“No, but we did meet,” Hayden said sharply. “How the hell do you think I ended up with my head caved in?”

The fire chief shouted an all clear. Firefighters rushed inside through the front entrance. Other firefighters came out from inside the building. Several of them were shaking their heads as they removed their breathing apparatuses. The fire chief conferred with one of the firemen coming out of the wreckage.

Santiago shouted at Rice, who was helping the uniforms with crowd control. “Find out what they know.”

Rice nodded, ducked under the barriers, and trotted over to the fire chief. Santiago turned his attention back to Hayden. Hayden watched the deputy join in the conference with the firemen.

“Tell me more about this attacker.”

“While I was at the front doors, I tried to call to someone inside, then the top floor blew out. I heard screams and I tried to break in, but as I was trying, someone came at me from behind and landed me one. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in an ambulance.”

“I suppose you didn’t get a look at this guy,” Santiago said.

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Sir,” Rice shouted at Santiago, gesturing to him.

“I think we should take a closer look, Mr. Duke.”

They ducked under the caution tape and Hayden’s wooziness dropped him to his knees. Santiago grabbed Hayden’s arm again, this time in a more supportive manner, and helped him to his feet.

Rice stepped away from the firefighters and came toward them. The firefighters returned to their unenviable task.

“It’s gruesome, sir,” Rice said. “Every one of the poor bastards is burnt to a crisp.”

“Christ. How many?”

“Eleven.”

“Did you hear that, Mr. Duke? Eleven. If you’d been a little earlier this morning you could have made it an even dozen.”

Hayden didn’t need the reminder. The thought was as prominent in his mind as the smoke in his lungs. If his dad hadn’t kept him and the traffic hadn’t slowed him, he would be a charred corpse. He imagined the thought would keep recurring over the coming days—in his dreams and during the boring moments of the day.

“They definitely know it’s arson,” Rice said. “The accelerants have been found. The down-and-dirty opinion is gasoline, based on odor and burn patterns. The chief’s going to do his inspection, then hand the scene over to us.”

Santiago studied the smoldering building. “Why the hell would someone want to burn these people?”

“You’re very lucky to have made it out alive, Mr. Duke,” Rice said. “I was talking to the firefighters who found you. That awning saved you.”

“Did you hear that, Mr. Duke?” Santiago asked. “You’re a lucky man. Do you feel lucky?”

“No. I feel sick.”

“Well, take comfort in that. Only the living can feel sick.”

Hayden couldn’t keep his temper any longer. Santiago kept poking at him. A jab here. A jab there. It wasn’t acceptable. He was a witness, not a criminal. He grabbed Santiago’s forearm. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Keep it contained, Mr. Duke,” Rice warned.

“Eleven people are dead, burned alive, and you think it’s some sort of joke. You should be out there looking for the bastard who did this.”

Santiago shook Hayden’s hand off. “Maybe I don’t have to look too far. Maybe I’ve found the bastard.”

Firefighters, uniforms, and rubberneckers stopped what they were doing and gawked at the escalating argument. Rice looked uncomfortable with the ensuing dogfight.

“You’re crazy,” Hayden said.

“No. Not crazy. First, you’re the only witness to a drug-related suicide. Then, you’re the victim of a burglary. Now, you’re the sole survivor at an arson scene leaving eleven dead. Yes, let’s count them: eleven. Eleven happy homes are in tatters thanks to someone with a gas can and a match. Mr. Duke, it’s too much to believe you happen to turn up at these disasters by chance.”

“Well, you’d better believe it because that’s what happened,” Hayden snapped back.

“I don’t think we should be airing this conversation in public, sir,” Rice said, trying to be the voice of reason.

Santiago grabbed Hayden by the bicep. The detective’s fingers bit into his flesh. He dragged him toward MDE’s charred entrance. Two firefighters rushed forward to block Santiago’s progress but a single look from him stopped them in their tracks.

“Shall we take a look at the melted faces and see whether you still know nothing, Mr. Duke?” Santiago snarled.

Rice pushed his way in between Hayden and Santiago. “Sir, it isn’t going to help if you badger a suspect.”

Santiago stopped with the disheveled Hayden in his grip. “What do you suggest? We let this one go, eh? No way, not until this bastard starts telling me the truth. Everyone who was anyone at Marin Design Engineering is dead.”

“You’re wrong.” He shook off Santiago’s grip. “Not everyone is dead.”

“What?” Santiago said.

Hayden pointed at the parking lot. “Trevor Bellis’s Audi isn’t here. My appointment was with him. So, why isn’t he here?” It wasn’t until Santiago had tried to hang an arson rap around his neck that he had noticed Bellis’s missing car.

“He could own other vehicles,” Rice said.

“Your attacker,” Santiago said, his tone respectful for once, “could he have been Bellis?”

It was nice to have the weight of suspicion off his shoulders, but Hayden couldn’t shift it onto someone else. “I don’t know. I didn’t see a face. Just a fist.”

Santiago pointed at the cars in the lot. “Rice, run those plates. I want to know who owns those vehicles.”

“Where are you going?” Rice asked.

“I’m going to tell Bellis his people are dead.”

Santiago raced over to Trevor Bellis’s Tiburon home, fearful of what he’d learn. Why the no-show? Bellis made a point of saying how busy his firm was when he’d interviewed the man. His people were working day and night. If that were true, Bellis, the self-proclaimed workaholic, would be ringside. He wouldn’t be two hours late for work. A home overlooking Richardson Bay depended on that type of dedication.

Santiago tried Bellis’s home number. No one picked up. It didn’t mean he wasn’t there.

He would settle on keeping an open mind when it came to Mr. Duke. He’d left Hayden with Rice, who had strict instructions not to let him go. Also, Hayden wasn’t to go near his car until someone had checked it out for evidence that linked him to the arson.

Santiago hit redial on his cell. The phone just rang and rang.

Pick up, damn it
.

The answering machine kicked in and went to its message. Santiago hung up and cursed Bellis, but at least he knew someone was at home. Someone had to have turned the machine on, and even money was on Bellis.

Santiago killed the lights and sirens when he reached Bellis’s neighborhood. He could do without a car chase. He swung his car into Trevor Bellis’s driveway and stamped hard on the brakes. His car skidded to a halt in front of Bellis’s Audi, blocking it in.

His heart was pounding and adrenaline pumping. He didn’t want to spook the CEO. This guy wasn’t the average criminal who ran at the sight of a badge and gun. Santiago needed to be cool. If he was cool, Bellis would be cool, despite having nowhere to run.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. The simple act took ten beats a minute off his heart rate. He switched off the engine, then checked in with Rice.

“I’m at Bellis’s. He’s here. Call me in ten.”

He slipped from his car and approached the house. A combination of mature landscaping and ornate fencing shrouded the custom-designed, two-story home from onlookers. It wasn’t on the water but high up on the hillside. The front was unimpressive, but the rear would have a dynamite view of the bay.

He pressed the doorbell. No one answered, but a TV played from somewhere inside the house and an upstairs window was open. Santiago pressed a hand to the Audi’s hood. It was warm.

“Don’t hide,” he murmured to himself.

He returned to the door and tried the doorbell. This time he leaned on the button. Eleven people were dead who shouldn’t have been. The stench of their barbecued flesh could be smelled for over a block. Hiding from the police wasn’t an option. He banged on the lacquered front door.

“Mr. Bellis, please open the door. It’s Detective Ruben Santiago from the Marin Sheriff’s Office. I need to speak to you. Now.”

There wasn’t any reply, but someone switched off the TV.