The Arsonist Read Free

death was confirmed.”
    “I talked to a couple of buddies of his in the department. I said I was doing a year anniversary thing on the fires. Anyway, one let it slip that Gannon never really believed Nero was dead. When I questioned him further, he started backpedaling.”
    “Where’s Gannon now?”
    “He moved down to Preston Springs, Virginia, and opened a motorcycle shop.”
    “Aren’t you from Preston Springs?”
    Darcy’s stomach tightened. That was the major fly in the ointment. She and her mother didn’t get on so well. And the last time she’d been home had been a year ago for her father’s funeral. “Yeah.”
    “So what are you going to do—interview Gannon?”
    “If it were only that easy. Gannon hates reporters. Which we can thank Stephen for.”
    Paul rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Stephen did harass the hell out of Gannon.”
    “Made his life rough. I’m afraid if Gannon knows I had anything to do with Stephen, reporting or Nero he’d shut me down.”
    He drummed his fingers on his desk. “So what do you want from me?”
    “Like you said, I’m from Preston Springs. I can go home under the guise of visiting my mother and brother. And while I’m there, make contact with Gannon. With any luck, he’ll open up.”
    Paul folded his fingers over his chest. “Long shot, if you ask me.”
    She rubbed her palms together. “But you’ve got to admit, it’s worth the chance. If we could prove Nero didn’t die, the coverage would be incredible. We’d get picked up all over the country. All I need is two weeks.”
    He nodded. “It damn sure would be.” He sighed staring at the stacks of paper on his desk. “I can’t give you two weeks. Only a week.”
    Darcy swallowed a smile. She had Paul. Now it was a matter of reeling him in. “Ten days.”
    “Eight.”
    “Nine.”
    He glared at her. “Sold. But this adventure is on your dime until you come up with something hard.”
    She jumped to her feet. “No problem. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
    Standing, he held up his hand to stop her. “I want you to keep me posted. Call me every day or two. Gannon won’t be easy to crack. Can be a real son of a bitch from what I remember.”
    “I’m not afraid of him.”
    “You should be.”
    Just the idea of this story had her nerves humming. “Michael Gannon will talk to me. I can guarantee it.”

Chapter 2
    T he perky Surprise, I’m home! Darcy Sampson had practiced on the car ride down Interstate 81 died on her lips when she saw flames shooting out of a frying pan on her family’s restaurant’s industrial kitchen stove.
    For a moment, she stood, dumbstruck, her green duffel bag gripped in her hand as flames licked the sides of the stove’s greasy exhaust hood and black smoke filled the restaurant kitchen.
    “Fire!” Darcy shouted.
    Her mother, a short plump woman with graying hair, whirled around from the sink where she’d been washing dishes. Panicking, she grabbed a full glass of water and raced toward the fire.
    Darcy dropped her bags. “No, Mom, don’t!”
    Her mother tossed the cold water on the hot grease in the pan. Immediately, the fire exploded higher, spilling over the sides of the stove. Hot oil spattered like a Roman candle. Mrs. Sampson screamed and jumped back as oil peppered her arm.
    The smoke detector started to screech through the entire building. Darcy ran down the shotgun style kitchen to the pantry. There she grabbed a large box of flour and rushed toward the blaze. Without hesitating, she dumped the entire box on the flames. The fire died instantly.
    Her heart pounding, Darcy set the empty tub down on the island in the center of the kitchen and rubbed a shaking hand to her forehead. “Mom, you know how to put out a grease fire.” White flour coated Darcy’s fingers, the stove and the mud-brown linoleum floor. She looked down at her black silk pants suit now dusted with flour. “I just had this dry-cleaned.”
    Her mother glanced