An Inner Fire (3 page)

Grayce placed additional needles down Beowulf’s spine. With needles in his head and back, the tabby drifted into a calm state. She slowed her vibrations while she rotated the needles then raised her heat into each one directing it in small increments until Beowulf slept peacefully.

There wouldn’t be many more sessions.

After Mrs. Leary and Beowulf left her office, Grayce retreated to the large office window, trying to absorb the sun’s warmth into her soul. The emptiness of grief sat on her shoulders, pressing down on her, exhausting her. With her eyes closed, she took slow cleansing breaths through her mouth.

She had dedicated her life to healing animals. With all her clinical skills and knowledge and her intuitive healing abilities, she still couldn’t prevent the end.

Her mentor had always attributed her great capacity for caring, her ability to heal, to her experience of losing her sister. He had taught her not to block her feelings of anguish but to honor them.

She continued to breathe slowly, visualized her sister’s laugh and light filled the room.

Chapter Four

Davis and his jet-black standard poodle Mitzi climbed out of the fire department’s Suburban and were surrounded by fishermen with knitted hats, flannel shirts and yellow rubber overalls, right out of
The Deadliest Catch
. These guys could out-macho firefighters any day.

The fireground was still too hot to begin his investigation. Since he couldn’t start digging, he had come to Fisherman’s Terminal expecting to ask questions. Instead he had his hands full fending off the questions being fired at him.

“Is the fire department solving crimes with poodles these days?”

Laughter followed.

Always the tallest in a crowd, Davis was surprised to find himself looking up to a few of these Viking descendants. “This is my dog, guys.”

He ignored the rolled eyes and knowing looks.

A burly man, clad only in a T-shirt and overalls to protect against the forty degree chill, bent to pet the poodle. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Mitzi.”

“Did the dude say
Mitzi
?”

“Yeah. He said,
Mitzi.
More loud guffaws.

First rule of investigation was to build rapport.
Davis spoke in a clear challenging voice. “Mitzi belonged to my ex-girlfriend.”

Enjoying the attention, Mitzi mingled with the men, winning them over with her soulful dark eyes.

A huge man with a bulbous red nose, knelt down and scratched behind Mitzi’s ears. The poodle leaned into his legs.

One of the giants queried in a deep bass voice, “So what caused the shed to burn?”

Questions were shouted from all sides.

“Any suspects? How you gonna find the guy? Got any witnesses?”

Rule Number2: Never, never give a press conference.

Davis cleared his throat. “Well, gentlemen, that’s exactly why I’m here. Why would anyone want to burn down a shed? And just one shed? Any theories?”

“You’re saying it was arson.”

Davis scanned the group. Not a red-top among them. “Someone sure went to a lot of effort to burn just a shed.”

“You think so, Sherlock?”

There was always one in a crowd. It was the same guy who’d made the crack about the poodle.

A brawny youth, his knit cap down low over his eyes, stood behind the wise-ass. Davis moved to get a better view, but the kid shifted position.

Davis raised his hands in the air. “Can someone tell me what’s kept in the sheds? The port office tells me that you store supplies in there. Would that include flammables?”

“Traps, rope. Nothing to catch fire.” The men nodded. “Must be a grudge.”

Davis searched for the face to match the ornery voice. The fisherman had a bushy red beard; unfortunately, the hair poking out of his baseball cap was brown. Davis asked, “Why would you think it’s a grudge?”

A guy who looked like a bouncer who’d taken too many hits to his face growled.

“Cuz he’s not from around here. He’s a Russian.”

“That don’t mean nothing.” The joker spoke again, the obvious leader of the group.

“Why was he unloading crab cases from the Jupiter in the middle of the night?” All eyes turned toward the bouncer, but no one answered.

“Hey, help me out here. Don’t you all catch crab?”

“No, we catch salmon. You can’t store crab here.”

“Where’s it stored?”

“King crab is put in cold storage either on Pier 91 or in the south end.”

“So why was he unloading here?” Davis asked.

“That’s what you’ve gotta find out,” the bouncer countered.

Someone shouted. “Good luck with that.” This was followed by another group guffaw.

“So how do I find this man? Does he have a name?” Davis asked.

Another guy who was petting Mitzi shook his head. “The Jupiter went out this morning. Won’t be back for weeks.”

“How convenient.” Davis muttered under his breath. “Thanks, guys. I’ll be around if you think of anything. Here’s my card.” No one budged, just like his days as an investment banker after the market tanked when no one wanted to talk about investments.

Suddenly Davis heard a loud insistent bark and then a man’s angry voice. “Get off me.”

Davis scanned the crowd for Mitzi. She had pinned the young man who had been hiding. She kept her paws on his chest and tried to lick his face.

A few guys laughed.

“Hey, Mike, afraid of a poodle?”

“What the hell?” Davis’ surprise at his dog’s behavior drew another loud hoot of laughter. “Mitzi, get down.”

“Can’t handle your women, Mr. Investigator?”

The men howled.

Mitzi sat down next to the youth. The dog gave a look of total innocence.

Davis moved towards Mitzi. “I apologize. I don’t know what came over her.”

A man put his gargantuan arm on Davis’ shoulder, blocking any movement. “Just like my wife. Never does what she’s supposed to.”

The men chuckled and began to walk away. Mike, the kid with the low cap, merged with the crowd before Davis could get to him. The kid was probably afraid. It might not have anything to do with the fire, but he planned to ask Mike a few questions.

Davis bent to Mitzi. “Why did you jump on that kid? Is he in trouble?” Mitzi pushed against his hand. Davis watched the men move toward the boats docked at the pier.

“Okay, girl, I see what boat he got on. We’ll be back tomorrow to have a little private talk with Mike. Let’s get over to the port offices and see what they can tell us about the Jupiter and crab fishing.”

Chapter Five

Grayce ran but her legs wouldn’t move. A faceless pursuer hounded her in a strange garden. She couldn’t escape. His hard breathing grew closer and closer, sucking her into a black twirling mist.

She dropped to her knees and crawled behind a massive slab of steel. Crouched behind the twisted shadows, she waited. Her tracker’s hatred surrounded her, devouring her into nothingness.

Grayce awoke with a start. Gloom pressed on her chest, making every breath a struggle. Gasping, she forced air down into her lungs. Cold sweat trickled down her back.

Sinister menace permeated her soul. She’d had the same dreams of catastrophe in her childhood after her sister Cassie had been killed, the same dreams of darkness, and the same sensation that she could never escape.

Trying to calm her ragged breathing, she climbed out of bed. She inhaled deeply into the mountain position and focused on purging her mind and body of the fear.

Exhausted, she crawled back into bed and dreamed of her sister and her family’s devoted yellow lab, Gus. She and Cassie were being pulled up the hill by Gus at Gasworks Park. At the top, they dropped to the ground and rolled down the hill. Gus chased them, trying to lick their faces. The presence of Cassie and Gus in her dream brought lightness and sunshine.

The dream shifted, and her feelings of safety vanished. Lieutenant Davis, his face contorted in pain, shouted at her to get back, away from the edge. He hovered on the brink of a disaster, of falling into emptiness. She had to save him. The backs of her knees tingled and her stomach trembled as she started to fall into the black void.

Grayce awakened herself and jumped out of bed. She had to shake out the night terrors, shake out the sensation that her world was spinning out of control.

Usually, she could control her dreams. In her work as an energy healer, she absorbed her client’s emotions, fears, and illnesses. She processed and released their disturbed energy in her dreams, restoring her balance, replenishing herself. Since the wharf fire, her dream world had become disrupted. She had to regain her equilibrium or she wouldn’t be able to work. Or heal.

Chapter Six

Assistant Chief Stewart Maclean came down the hallway before Davis had time to make it into his office.

“You’ve got a witness to the fire?” Maclean asked.

“And a good morning to you, Officer Maclean.”

“I told you to keep me informed.”

“There’s nothing to report,” Davis said.

Maclean leaned on the door jamb. “Well, what did the witness see?”

“She saw a man carrying a duffel bag. It may have been the torch or she may have seen one of many fishermen on the wharf.”

A woman?” Maclean asked.

He bristled at the idea of Maclean knowing anything about Dr. Walters. “She didn’t see anything, just a guy walking into the fog.”

“Send me her statement. Anything else I need to know?”

“This fire just doesn’t look like the work of any of our regulars. It’s too good.”

“Really?” Maclean stared at Davis, waiting for more.

“The calculated explosion to burn one shed makes me think the guy knew what he was doing. The question is, why an isolated shed?”

Maclean’s beady eyes seemed to get smaller. “Go on.”

“I’m planning to go through the list of our fired or should I say retired firefighters to see if anyone fits the bill. Do you want me to send you the list?”

“No. I know the losers list.”

“Peterson and Benson were really good firefighters.” He felt a need to defend the men, even if their personal lives were a mess.

Emerging from the next room, Niles Olsen joined Davis and Maclean. “What about Peterson?” At six foot eight inches, the department’s chaplain had to lean down to participate in the conversation.

“Davis thinks that one of our bottom feeders like Peterson might be behind the wharf fire,” Maclean said.

“I said that the wharf fire has the markings of a pro and I need to rule out our ex-firefighters. I hope it isn’t one of our own,” Davis said.

“Peterson isn’t a fire starter. And with counseling, he may have learned techniques to control his anger.” Niles never gave up on any person in the department.

Maclean’s lips twisted into a look of contempt and his voice got rougher. “He got busted twice for domestic violence before I kicked his ass out of the department. No counselor’s going to change his behavior.”

Davis gave Niles a small nod out of Maclean’s view. Maclean didn’t believe in any “new-age counseling bullshit.”

Niles straightened his massive frame. “I don’t think you should give up on a man because he’s made a mistake. We’ve all done things we regret.”

“Niles, you’re burdened by regrets?” Maclean never missed the opportunity to probe and jab with his razor-sharp tongue.

The Norwegian’s fair skin turned a bright red. “My mistakes aren’t relevant to this conversation.” Niles was no pushover. “My belief in a merciful God helps my regrets.”

Maclean snorted. “Probably why you’re the chaplain and not me.”

Davis wanted to jump in and protect Niles, the finest in the department. But his friend didn’t need his help in handling Maclean. “Forget Peterson. What about Redmayne or Conerton?”

He hated raising questions about the men, labeling them as possible criminals, but Niles and Maclean knew more about the fired men’s personal lives than he did.

Maclean rolled his eyes upward. “Redmayne? That stoner is lighting joints not fires. Sounds like another desperate theory.”

“Niles, what do you think about Conerton?” Davis asked.

“The guy who wouldn’t stop looking at porn while on duty?” Maclean asked.

“Yeah,” Davis said.

“He’s an idiot,” Maclean fired back.

Niles’ face stayed bright red. But he refused to be further baited by Maclean.

Davis refused to back down until he had the information he needed. There was still one man left to discuss. “Benson has the skills. And I’m sure his drinking and need for money hasn’t diminished.”

“Are you kidding me? Benson couldn’t stand upright long enough to pull off this stunt,” Maclean said.

Despite the irony of Maclean calling someone else a drunk, Davis ignored the provocation. Maclean was well known throughout the department as a heavy hitter.

“This is the best you can come up with?” Maclean stepped closer. “FYI, Benson moved to Las Vegas after he was
retired
. Isn’t that right, Niles?”