night.”
Arson. He’d been hoping it was just some kind of electrical problem. “Sure thing, I can do that.”
Officer Gonzales, with the hard-edged features of a seasoned policeman, and Delaney, the baby-faced cub of the pair, walked him back up the aisle.
“You can come with us or drive down on your own if you prefer,” Gonzales said as they stepped into the warm, humid early September air.
Gabe eyed the white-and-blue patrol car and shook his head. “I’ll meet you there.” In his younger years, he had ridden in the backseat of a police car more than once.
In high school, all three Raines brothers had been hell on wheels. At the rate they were going back then, half the town figured one or more of them would wind up in prison.
Then Steve Whitelaw, the school’s boxing coach, had recognized a talent in Jackson. Gabe’s older brother had been street fighting for years and he was good. Whitelaw taught him how to stop brawling and start boxing, showed him that boxing could mean a way out of the poverty the boys lived in, and Jackson began to change.
Once that happened, he made sure Gabe and Devlin gave up their wild ways, too. Which they did. Mostly.
Gabe arrived at the police station a few minutes later and shoved through the glass front doors. A female officer behind the desk announced his arrival to someone in the back room, and a few minutes later the fire investigator with the silver-threaded hair he remembered from last night walked into the waiting room.
“Thanks for coming,” Captain Daily said. Gabe knew the arson squad worked with the Dallas Fire Rescue Department, but figured now that there had been an arrest, the police were also involved.
“No problem.”
“We think we may have found the kid who set the fire at the Towers.”
“Kid?”
“He’s seventeen. He was pulled over in the vicinity on a routine traffic stop—broken taillight. One of the guys remembered him from the fire he set a couple of years ago.”
“And you want to know if I saw him last night.”
“He’s in a lineup. Let’s see if you can pick him out.”
“All right, but I wasn’t paying that much attention. I was mostly watching the crew work the fire.”
“It’s worth a try.”
“Sure.” Gabe followed the investigator down a long stark-white hallway into a small room with a glass window on one side that looked into a staging area. Five men of varying sizes and ethnicities stood on a platform against the far wall. All of them were fairly young. One looked vaguely familiar.
An image popped into his head of a boy, short and muscular, with dark skin and coarse black hair. He’d been standing next to another Hispanic kid about the same age.
“Number three,” Gabe said as the image formed clearly in his mind. “I saw him last night. He was talking to another boy. They were standing on the sidewalk when I drove up.”
Daily nodded. “Your friend, McBride, was down here a couple of hours ago. Picked out the same kid. Name’s Angel Ramirez. Looks like we’ve got our perp.”
Gabe’s gaze returned to the boy who was being led away. “What’s the kid have to say?”
“Said he was nowhere near the fire last night. Be interesting to see what he has to say now.”
“You say he’s done this before?”
Daily nodded as he pulled open the door leading out of the viewing room. “Three years ago. Set an old abandoned building on fire. Fortunately no one was hurt, but the building was mostly destroyed. Kid was sentenced to two years in juvenile detention for that little trick. Got out in twelve months for good behavior. Makes you wonder.”
Daily walked Gabe back down the hall.
“As I said, thanks for coming in.” The captain extended a hand and Gabe shook it.
“Good luck with the investigation.” Gabe turned and started for the door. He was halfway across the waiting room when a redheaded whirlwind raced through the glass doors and bolted toward the desk.
“Excuse me. My name is Mattie Baker. I
Arson. He’d been hoping it was just some kind of electrical problem. “Sure thing, I can do that.”
Officer Gonzales, with the hard-edged features of a seasoned policeman, and Delaney, the baby-faced cub of the pair, walked him back up the aisle.
“You can come with us or drive down on your own if you prefer,” Gonzales said as they stepped into the warm, humid early September air.
Gabe eyed the white-and-blue patrol car and shook his head. “I’ll meet you there.” In his younger years, he had ridden in the backseat of a police car more than once.
In high school, all three Raines brothers had been hell on wheels. At the rate they were going back then, half the town figured one or more of them would wind up in prison.
Then Steve Whitelaw, the school’s boxing coach, had recognized a talent in Jackson. Gabe’s older brother had been street fighting for years and he was good. Whitelaw taught him how to stop brawling and start boxing, showed him that boxing could mean a way out of the poverty the boys lived in, and Jackson began to change.
Once that happened, he made sure Gabe and Devlin gave up their wild ways, too. Which they did. Mostly.
Gabe arrived at the police station a few minutes later and shoved through the glass front doors. A female officer behind the desk announced his arrival to someone in the back room, and a few minutes later the fire investigator with the silver-threaded hair he remembered from last night walked into the waiting room.
“Thanks for coming,” Captain Daily said. Gabe knew the arson squad worked with the Dallas Fire Rescue Department, but figured now that there had been an arrest, the police were also involved.
“No problem.”
“We think we may have found the kid who set the fire at the Towers.”
“Kid?”
“He’s seventeen. He was pulled over in the vicinity on a routine traffic stop—broken taillight. One of the guys remembered him from the fire he set a couple of years ago.”
“And you want to know if I saw him last night.”
“He’s in a lineup. Let’s see if you can pick him out.”
“All right, but I wasn’t paying that much attention. I was mostly watching the crew work the fire.”
“It’s worth a try.”
“Sure.” Gabe followed the investigator down a long stark-white hallway into a small room with a glass window on one side that looked into a staging area. Five men of varying sizes and ethnicities stood on a platform against the far wall. All of them were fairly young. One looked vaguely familiar.
An image popped into his head of a boy, short and muscular, with dark skin and coarse black hair. He’d been standing next to another Hispanic kid about the same age.
“Number three,” Gabe said as the image formed clearly in his mind. “I saw him last night. He was talking to another boy. They were standing on the sidewalk when I drove up.”
Daily nodded. “Your friend, McBride, was down here a couple of hours ago. Picked out the same kid. Name’s Angel Ramirez. Looks like we’ve got our perp.”
Gabe’s gaze returned to the boy who was being led away. “What’s the kid have to say?”
“Said he was nowhere near the fire last night. Be interesting to see what he has to say now.”
“You say he’s done this before?”
Daily nodded as he pulled open the door leading out of the viewing room. “Three years ago. Set an old abandoned building on fire. Fortunately no one was hurt, but the building was mostly destroyed. Kid was sentenced to two years in juvenile detention for that little trick. Got out in twelve months for good behavior. Makes you wonder.”
Daily walked Gabe back down the hall.
“As I said, thanks for coming in.” The captain extended a hand and Gabe shook it.
“Good luck with the investigation.” Gabe turned and started for the door. He was halfway across the waiting room when a redheaded whirlwind raced through the glass doors and bolted toward the desk.
“Excuse me. My name is Mattie Baker. I