Page 56 of Love Again

I touch Devon’s arm and nod toward the photo on the wall, but she’s not surprised. She smiles a little.

We follow Jade Falcon down a series of steps to the basement and to the evidence desk. In a few minutes, we’re walking down halls with motion lights coming on like a light-play welcoming committee. Lieutenant Falcon is quite tall, and she easily lifts an evidence box from the sixth shelf and pulls over an examination tray on wheels.

“Here is what we found at two of the sites,” she says and opens up a small, padded Manila envelope.

She pulls out two small glass medicine bottles, each with a white baby tooth. “We didn’t know what to make of these. The fires were nearly a year apart. It made no sense. Then out of the blue, Detective Carlson called and asked if anything like this had shown up at fire sites.”

I pick them up. One is an incisor. The other looks like a bottom front tooth.

As I hand one vile to Devon, she continues. “And you didn’t pursue this?”

Falcon shakes her head. “There was nothing to pursue. The investigator ruled both fires an accident. We figured it was someone who came after the events and left them. You know, for the thrill. Maybe it would get on the news.”

“Did you give this to the press?”

“Oh, no. There was no reason to. Do you mind me asking where this one was found?”

“At Detective Carlson’s houseboat. The one that was torched.”

I can tell she seems genuinely concerned, but she rearranges her face. “I’m sorry. I did hear that there was a fire,” she says. “We can run DNA testing on these, but the pulp’s been dissolved, cleaned out with some sort of chemical compound.” She shrugs. “That’s what our coroner said.”

“But you can run it on the dentin underneath, correct?” I set the bottle down and Devon follows suit.

“Correct,” she says.

I rub my face for a moment. “I think we can assume that these all came from the same child. The question is: who do they belong to?”

We agree she will send the results of the DNA analysis to Mateus, and I give her his card. Once completely certified, I’ll be able to hand out my own.

“Are you working with the profiler?” asks Falcon.

“Two, actually,” says Devon.

“Mateus Gutiérrez and Finn Colton from Colton Security.”

Falcon folds her arms. “They’ve been in the news a lot lately. They do excellent work,” she says. Realization makes her eyes soften. “Oh, now I know who you are.” She smiles at Devon. “You’re one of the Russos, the Russo sisters.”

“She’s also a professional smokejumper and firefighter EMT,” I say in a way that I wish hadn’t. Devon’s going to think I’m defending her.

She smiles at Falcon. “You’re right, though. I’m first and foremost a Russo,”

“I thought so. Hey,” she says as we turn to leave. “Tell Jack Carlson he doesn’t have to send emissaries. He could have tagged along.”

΅

“What was that all about?” Devon says once we’re back out in the car. It’s late afternoon. The mountains on the left stand purplish green in front of a bright-blue sky. The ocean to the right stretches, a clean rippling sheet of more blue. We’re heading back to Echo Bay, and I don’t want to think about logistics quite yet, if I’m staying over or not. That’s Devon’s call.

I’m just glad for some banter. “Right? That picture of the two of them?”

“I’m talking about the ‘emissary’ comment and ‘tagged along.’”

“I bet that’s why Carlson sent us here.”

“Absolutely,” she says and then smiles. “It’s nice to think about Carlson having a life outside the department.”

“Well, we are doing better than them, then.”

“How so?”