Page 74 of Love Again

Again, this is met with silence. This is why I don’t socialize much with him and other people. I’m pretty sure being in the closet is not the entire reason he’s socially inept—I think it’s just him.

Put him in a uniform, though, and the guy is a born leader.

Nic, Finn, and Mateus beat us to the police station and are already inside, speaking with Carlson. I make a beeline for the coffeepot, arching an eyebrow at my brother to signal for him to keep his mouth shut because I am having a cup of coffee.

Carlson looks rumpled, like he hasn’t slept in a couple of days. He’s channeling Columbo, this old Peter Falk character from the ’70s. Columbo was a detective who didn’t act very smart but was actually brilliant and always got his man or woman by asking badgering questions—often to the annoyance of his victims.

I keep getting the impression Carlson’s a lot like him. Except he’s not a character—he’s real.

“We did get the DNA results late last night,” he announces and taps the screen on the computer. We’re in a small conference room with a projector.

“It’s a match for Jimmy Whitehead.”

Devon’s back goes straight, and Finn asks, “You know him?”

“I went to school with him. He was a grade above me—he and Kevin Barr.”

“He’s been to the Pratchetts’ as well,” I say, pointing to the device on the table. Everyone looks at me. Avoiding Devon’s gaze, I relay what Andy Pratchett told me, even reminding the people in the room to not broadcast the info—he didn’t want his wife to know.

“Anything else?” asks Carlson.

Devon speaks up. “Captain Turrow is convinced they are all linked to—” She searches my face. I know instantly what she’s thinking. It would look like retribution if she stated what we found out.

I clear my throat. “He claims the fires are all linked to Raymond Barr, one way or another. But in reality, when Mateus and Devon and I did the groundwork, only five are connected—if you leave the first burn in York out of the equation.”

“You’re thinking York was a testing site?”

“I’m sure of it. There were different accelerants and points of ignition.”

“They were set over time too,” says Keller, suddenly displaying the 360 photos I took with the camera. In excruciating detail, he maps out his conclusions. He’s so articulate and sure of himself, I’m almost proud of him.

“Is there enough here to bring in Jim Whitehead?” Carlson glances to the rest of us.

Finn is thoughtful. “What do you know about him? Have you dealt with him before? After you called, I ran reports and reached out to law enforcement in towns in New Hampshire where he lived for a short time. He doesn’t seem to have a record. Two DUIs.”

Carlson shakes his head. “I don’t have any street chatter about him. He was a handful in high school, more of a goofball kid. You know, shaving his head on a dare, mooning the principal. Not the sharpest tack in the box.”

“Why do you think your houseboat was set on fire?” asks Devon.

Carlson’s answer is short. “It wasn’t personal.”

Mateus speaks up for the first time. “I have to disagree. Have there been any other instances of pressure on you? Any threats?”

Carlson grins. “I get threats all the time.”

Nic turns to Carlson and says casually, “We’ve all reported in, Detective Carlson. I think you should give up what you’re sitting on.”

Keller stares at Nic. My brother likes direct communication systems and clean lines of leadership. It’s why he coaches in his precious-little down time. He’s impressed with Nic.

Carlson looks very uncomfortable. “I chose you all as a team because I thought I was getting too close and couldn’t make good judgments—that bias was setting in.”

“But . . .” coaxes Nic.

Carlson sighs. “I have felt for a long time that the link here was Raymond Barr, but I had no way to prove it. Turrow and I have talked. He hates the guy as much as I do, so I couldn’t really trust his info. Besides, you met him, right? He’s a little corked. What you guys all found is compelling, though, and supports my gut.”

“Carlson, it wasn’t just your gut. What was going on two years ago between you and Judge Barr?” Nic’s voice is smooth.

Carlson looks uncomfortable now. He stands, jangles his keys in his pockets, and stares at the frosted glass in the door for a moment. “Okay. Okay,” he says, more to himself than to us. “This absolutely cannot leave this room.” After wiping his face with one hand, he stares at us all blearily. “Audrey Pratchett has been building a case against Judge Barr for four years, trying to get him disbarred. The charges are serious.”