Clarke carefully bagged the remnants of the homemade device and handed them to Gideon. “It’s got to be similar to the other one. Joan, you might want to find out where your pen pal Elijah was last night.”
There were several cars parked in front of Elijah’s boardinghouse when Joan arrived. She had decided to make this visit without Gideon because she sensed that Elijah would be more forthcoming if it was just her asking the questions.
Striding across the front and up the steps, she rang the bell and was shown to the den by Mr. Pickett. She found Elijah on his laptop studying video clips of arson events.
“You do this for fun?” she asked.
His gaze did not waver from the screen, but a smile curled the edges of his lips. “Back so soon? People might start to talk, Joan.”
She moved into the room and took a seat next to him. “Don’t you have class today?”
“I did. Class was an hour ago. When did you start sleeping in late? And why do you smell like smoke?”
Despite a shower and a clean shirt, her jeans still reeked and would until she could wash them a few times. “Someone torched Ann’s shed last night. I had the pleasure of putting it out.”
He paused the video and faced her. All traces of humor had vanished. “What happened?”
“Fire set outside my window.”
“How?”
“I’m not supposed to say. It’s an active investigation.”
“I didn’t set it.”
She held up her hands. “I suppose you have an alibi.”
“For last night? Yes, I do. Was anyone hurt?”
“No.” She searched for traces of Nate in Elijah’s features and found several. “How old were you when you set those dumpsters on fire?”
“Are we relitigating old news?”
“Humor me.”
“Twelve and thirteen.”
“Why did you do it?”
“My mother had kicked my stepfather out and begun to invite the first of many boyfriends into our home.”
“What did you hope to accomplish by the fires?”
“The prison psychologist asked me that very same question, and I’ve had ten years to think about it.” He shifted, crossing his legs. “I was angry. I didn’t know how to articulate it.”
If she were back in Philadelphia, she would not have hesitated to use the information Ann had given her. But this was not back east, and Ann was her friend, maybe the only one she had in Montana. “What are you watching now?”
“This is research.”
“On?”
“You.” He hit “Play,” and the fire began rolling again. As she looked closer, she saw this fire was eating through Avery Newport’s house. The footage had been recorded by a neighbor’s cell phone. “Amazing what you can find on YouTube.”
“Why would you care about the Newport fire in Philadelphia?”
“This fire reminded you of the College Fire, didn’t it? Two young women home alone. Fire breaks out, and one dies.”
“Newport is a cold-blooded killer. End of story.” Joan watched as the flames ate into the house, consuming it like a roaring dragon would. Her attention shifted to the left side of the screen, where she knew the roommate had slept.
His brow knitted with curiosity. “This really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“A young woman died in that fire.” She reached over and closed the laptop.
“You’ll get another chance to catch her.”
“Really? How can you be so sure?”
“I know Ms. Newport better than she knows herself,” he said.
“How?”
“The footage captured Newport at the scene, but her expression was all wrong for an innocent victim. All they saw was her crying, but the tears weren’t for her roommate. They were for her child, the fire.”
A sense of vindication rose up in Joan. “Unfortunately, that’s not enough for the prosecutor to file charges. And the evidence I collected was all circumstantial.”
The smile returned, warming his eyes. “I do have some theories, if you wish to hear them?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Well then, once we figure out who was behind the College Fire and the two most recent ones, I’ll share all I have on Avery Newport with you.”
“And if the evidence still points to you, then I don’t get the evidence on Avery Newport?”
“I’m not that petty, Joan. You know me much better than that.”
She drew in a breath, punching down her frustration. Like it or not, he had a talent for identifying patterns. Showing him the map Gideon had made of the recent fires was a risk, but if anyone understood the mind of an arsonist, it would be Elijah. “Gideon mapped the fires. I’d like to show it to you.”
“I would like to see it.”
She handed him her phone, and he studied the image for a good minute. He rose up from the couch and moved to a desk, where he’d stacked his textbooks. He opened the top one and pulled out notes. “I could get used to this detective work. I can already tell it’s going to be rewarding.”
“You’re not an official detective until we’ve done an all-night stakeout with only stale doughnuts and cold coffee.”
A smile tugged his lips. “Not all glamorous like the movies.”
“I wish.” She nodded to the paper. “See anything on the map that tells you something about our arsonist, Detective?”
He enlarged the photo on her phone. “These areas around Missoula and Helena are the same guy. The others have no statistical significance, meaning they’re random.”
“Why these?”
“It’s just a gut feeling at this point. Can you get me the official reports?”
“I can’t.” She leaned closer and looked again at the map. “Were the rural fires practice? Was the guy building up his courage?”
“I would say he has plenty of both. He’s letting off steam until game day.”
“How do you know?”
“Again, a feeling,” he said.
“I trust my gut, but I find DAs like evidence.”
“You have two distinct patterns. Now it’s a matter of figuring out who was in both these areas at this time.”
“You weren’t.”
“No, I was not.”
“Do arsonists recognize others? Maybe some kind of tell?”
The easy smile faded. “I am not one of them.”
She was surprised by the edge sharpening his words. “So what’s this guy’s deal?”
“He’s not a crazy kid working out anger. He likes the fires, and he’s turned it into a money-making operation.”
“How do you know about the money?”
“I didn’t until you just confirmed it for me.”
Joan could have tried to backpedal and deny she had given him anything, but she had. “The Helena fire did involve a payout.”
“I’m assuming the Halperns also took out a hefty plan. Were the Halperns and the Helena business owner out of town when their businesses burned?”
“Yes.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “The owners travel to a distant city, their places get torched, and both parties come home looking innocent.”
“You’re saying that the fires are financially motivated?”
“For the business owners, yes.”
“And for the arsonist?”
“The thrill. The control. The power. The danger.”
“You can slip into this guy’s mind pretty easily. Maybe you’re behind the fires,” she challenged.
“We established I was in prison.”
“That didn’t stop you from finding my home address.”
He nodded slowly. “I admit to taking liberties when I worked in the prison warden’s office.”
“What other liberties did you take?”
“None.”
That she did not believe but for now let it lie. “Maybe you used one of your little Fireflies.”
“Interesting theory.”
“A local woman, Lana Long, came to see you in prison several times. You also wrote to her multiple times.”
“Yes, she did. She was an entertaining diversion.”
“How did you two connect?”
“I didn’t reach out to her; she found me. There are women who are fascinated by men behind bars. Several women came to see me while I was incarcerated.”
“You’re a good-looking guy.”
“I am.” No bravado, simply a statement of fact. “These women can build elaborate fantasy worlds because they know I’m locked away. They always know where to find me, and I can’t get involved in their worlds unless they want me to.”
“That’s what Lana wanted? To talk to a handsome man behind bars.”
“Yes.”
“It appears you two were never alone. Is that true? Prison wardens don’t always know what’s going on in their facilities.”
“We always had three inches of glass between us.”
“A trustee in the warden’s office must have extra freedoms.”
“Not that kind.”
“Did she ever mention a boyfriend?”
“Other than Ryan, no.”
She studied him closely, searching for signs of deception. “No one here in Missoula?”