Page 79 of Burn With Me

“Is that so?”

“It is. This therapy is known to relax the body, ease away all stress, and stop the running thoughts that have decided to take up residence in your mind.” That impish grin was back, and his eyes were filled with the same mischief.

“Wow, that is some therapy. Since it is such a miracle, it must be doctor recommended.”

“Oh, trust me, it is,” he said and slipped back under the blankets.

How had I gone so long without feeling any real connection to someone? Beck and her parents were different, they were family, but Asher soothed a part of my soul that I didn’t realize needed him. What scared me was that I’d opened myself up. I understood what I was missing, and with that understanding came fear. I didn’t want to go back to who I’d been.

My heart swelled with Asher around, and it pounded harder, making me feel alive. It terrified me to my core that it could all be ripped away.

* * *

I didn’t bother to get dressed up for this visit to the office. It happened to be my day off, so sneakers replaced heels, jeans instead of my dress skirt, and a comfortable hoodie instead of my blouse. The hoodie was Asher’s and way too large. All I needed was a belt to make it look like a dress, but Asher said he loved it on me. I didn’t know what it was about cuddling into a man’s hoodie, but damn, was it super comfortable.

Looking down, I glanced at our hands and how Asher had taken my hand to walk into the building. Was it wrong that I loved the fact that he was showing off that he was with me? Plus, this felt like an intimate step for him. It wasn’t that he was holding my hand. It was how he’d taken it and how even now, he was running his thumb over my skin like he was suffering from the same “disease.” I was and simply couldn’t get enough of him.

The door to the boardroom was open, and we made our way inside. I would’ve paid a million dollars to have been able to take a photo of the look on Mitch’s face when he saw me and then Asher. His eye followed our arms down to our linked fingers before his mouth fell open.

“Hey Mitch, this is Asher West he is one of our fire Captains. He came to the car fire that killed Sarah,” I said and Mitch held out his hand for Asher to shake.

“Nice to see you again, Mitch.”

“Nice to see you again as well, Asher. I’ve seen your reports, and you always do exemplary work.”

“Thank you, I try to make sure that we don’t leave a stone unturned,” Asher said.

Stepping away from Asher, I wandered around the massive table that had pictures laid out. My eyes immediately found images of many of the fires, as well as newspaper clippings and digital printouts from other news sources. There were pictures of the guy’s bedroom, and it looked like an homage to the fires. Pictures were covering the walls from the fires and those working them. There were images of different fire trucks and stations and the firefighters trying to put out the blazes. All of them laid out like this seemed like a window into what hell would be like—such fire and brimstone imagery.

The two men were busy talking, but I didn't hear a word if they were speaking to me. Now, shifting through evidence was when I felt the most focused and useful. My work gave me purpose. It made me feel like I was helping those left behind, helping someone else since no one had been able to help me. With slow steps, I made my way around the end of the table and froze as I spotted the apartment building fire. There was a photograph of me mid-flight, as I jumped from one fire escape to the other. It looked staged, like there should’ve been a huge air mattress or a net underneath. My stomach rolled as I stared at the image. What if I hadn’t made it or the railing ripped away? I really could’ve died.

Picking the photo up, I looked at it and then up at Asher. I may never have met him if it hadn’t been for this fire and what I did. However, the possibilities of what could’ve happened if I’d fallen had me swallowing a grapefruit-sized lump in my throat.

I had to put the image down before I thought about it too much and moved on to the mug shot and the copies of what the officers found for the handprint. The man in the image was slender with a narrow face and features that reminded me of a scarecrow. His eyes were overly large for his face, and his hair stood out in all directions like he’d gripped a powerline. He was missing a tooth but smiling in the mug shot.

This man was certainly unwell mentally, but I didn’t think he was our man.

“So what do you think?” Mitch said, and I looked up at him and Asher as they both stared at me.

“This isn’t our guy,” I said flatly.

“Vi, look at all this evidence. He had images all over his room, including on the ceiling of the fires. He made collages out of the pictures and…” Mitched walked over to the table and held up a photo of what seemed to be a table full of voodoo dolls.

Each one of them was wearing a little miniature version of a firefighter’s uniform. He also grabbed another image I hadn’t yet gotten too that was a miniature version of Miami. The buildings, streets, trees and even little people looked eerily lifelike, but it was the homes and other buildings that had burned that were creepy. He’d obviously set fire to his miniature city to make sure that it matched.

“Okay, I can agree that his doesn’t look good,” I said.

“Doesn’t look good? Vi, this is our guy. You couldn’t ask for more compelling evidence. This is a gold mine.”

“What do you see, Vi,” Asher asked and crossed his arms over his chest as he gave Mitch a look. I didn’t quite understand the male-speak, but it felt like Asher was telling Mitch to shut up and listen without saying the words.

“What I see is someone that loves fire. Do I think they may have tried to set a fire? Yes, but…” I grabbed some photos and held them up. “This is the work of a fan. He feels more like a groupie. You know, one of those people that follows the band around, praying for a chance to get backstage?” Mitch narrowed his eyes at me. “Look, I know what this all looks like. I mean, I have to agree with you that, at first glance, I’d say this is our guy. But I’ve been deep into the files, and what I see on this table is the opposite.”

Mitch groaned and leaned on the boardroom table. “Why?”

“I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but the arsonist that burnt down the apartment building and the subdivision on the golf course had one thing in common. They felt personal. They felt like an attack that specifically went after people or a person. This handprint was found on a can of accelerant and left at an old, abandoned house. Do those two things feel the same to you? I think this guy wants to be our arsonist. he may revere him, and even be gearing up to try his own, but the actual man setting fires and killing people all over the city? No.”

“I can’t go back to the mayor’s office with, ‘my fire investigator says it doesn’t feel right.’ I need evidence, Vi.”