Count to Ten (24 page)

“Because there isn’t,” Bixby said tightly. “I’ve told you already.”

“And we heard you the first time,” Solliday said mildly. He looked over at Mia, one dark brow lifted. “You know you did promise Carmichael she’d be the first to know.”

She beamed at him, in perfect accord. “Yes, I did.”

Secrest leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “That’s extortion.”

“Who is Carmichael?” Bixby asked.

“The reporter who wrote the article in yesterday’s -
Bulletin,
” Secrest said.

Thompson’s mouth fell open. “You can’t give false information.”

Mia shrugged. “She asks me where I’ve been. I’ll tell her I’ve been here. No lie. Sometimes she even follows me around, looking for news. She might be outside your gates as we speak. I guess as publicity goes, that would suck. The whole not-in-my-backyard thing and all.” She stared Bixby down. “And your total lack of cooperation will affect your standing with the state. I’ll see that it does.”

Bixby looked ready to explode. He hit a button on the intercom. “Marcy, pull Manuel Rodriguez’s file.” He jabbed the button. “I hope you’re satisfied.”

“I hope I am, too,” Mia said with all sincerity. “So do the families of my two victims.”

Thompson’s face had gone florid. “Manny’s an innocent young man.”

Mia lifted her brows. “He’s
here,
Dr. Thompson. He’s obviously not
that
innocent.”

“He didn’t set these fires,” Thompson insisted.

“You searched Manny’s room, Mr. Secrest?” Solliday asked, ignoring the counselor.

“I did.” Secrest’s eyes were like stone.

Mia lifted her brows. “And?”

“And I found a book of matches.”

“Were any missing?” Solliday pressed. “And to save us time, if yes, how many?”

“Several. But the matchbook had been used by someone else.”

She noticed a twitch in Thompson’s cheek. “Do you know where he got them?” she asked. From the corner of her eye she saw Secrest roll his eyes.

“He took them from Dr. Thompson’s office,” Secrest said. “He smokes a pipe.”

Mia leaned back in her chair. “Bring Mr. Rodriguez to us, please.” Everyone stood. “Miss Adler, please remain.” She looked at Bixby. “Alone.”

When the doors were closed, Mia turned to Adler, who was pale. “Now tell us
why
you went to Penny Hill’s house.”

She licked her lips. “I told you. I was curious. Because of the articles.”

Solliday shook his head. “No. We saw you, Miss Adler, on the video. You didn’t look curious. You looked like you felt guilty.”

“It was the book.” In her eyes Mia saw pure, unadulterated misery. “I assigned
Lord of the Flies
right before Thanksgiving. Right before the first fire.” She pursed her lips hard. “Right before the first woman was killed.”

“Interesting timing,” Solliday murmured. “Still, why go to the victim’s house?”

“I needed to know what the police knew. To know if I’d done... caused...”

Mia frowned at Solliday. “I’m missing the connection to the book,” she murmured.

“
Lord of the Flies,
” he murmured back. “Teens stranded on an island without adults descend into anarchy. They have a signal fire. Later they burn most of the island down.”

“Oh. Dots connected.” Mia turned her attention back to Adler, who sat quietly, tears running down her face. “Was that really a good choice of a book here?”

“Dr. Bixby approved it, encouraged it even. He wanted to observe the students’ reactions. I offered to assign a different one, but Julian said it would be useful in Manny’s therapy.” She struggled for control. “All I could think was ‘What if I caused him to do this? What if my book gave him the idea?’ And then there was another fire and another woman died. What if those women are dead because I got him started?”

Solliday sighed. “If Manny did this, you are not responsible, Miss Adler.”

“I’ll believe you when you find out who really did it. Can I go now?”

“Sure,” Mia said, more inclined to be gentle now. “Don’t leave town, okay?”

Adler’s smile was thin and bitter. “Somehow I thought you’d say that.” She shut the door hard, leaving Mia and -Solliday sitting side by side. Solliday looked around the ceiling and the walls, then abruptly bent close to Mia’s ear.

“This could be a wild-goose chase,” he murmured. “A waste of time.”

A shiver raced down her back, unexpected and hard as his heat warmed her and the scent of him filled her head. Unbidden, her body tightened, as the memory of him lying on top of her shoved at her logical thought. She made herself focus and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Maybe. But we’re here. Other than boxes of files, this is all we have. Cops, social workers, angry kids... And these guys are hiding something. I’ve got a feeling about all this.” And that, she told herself, would be cop instinct and not the fact that her cheek still tingled from where his beard had brushed against her skin.

The door opened and Bixby appeared. “Manny is being brought up front. I will stay with him through your questioning as he is a minor. Is there anything else you require?”

Solliday stood up. “We’d like to search the boy’s room ourselves.”

Bixby nodded stiffly. “As you wish.”

Mia’s lips curved. “Your... cooperation is noted, Dr. Bixby. Keep Manny here while we do our search. We’ll come back to talk to him when we’re ready.”

Wednesday, November 29, 2:45 P.M.

Reed stifled a sigh as Bixby led Manny Rodriguez from the room. A search of his room had turned up nothing and Manny was as closed as any youth he’d ever met. “If he did it, he’s not giving anything up. But I don’t think he did. I think we just wasted an afternoon chasing an English teacher with an overdeveloped sense of guilt.”

“Win some, lose some.” Mia shrugged into that godawful coat. It looked worse from the slide on the pavement she’d taken last night. “Let’s go back and hit the files.”

Reed held the door, then followed her to the front desk where a grim-faced Marcy was ready to sign them out. He walked by the front display cases, then stopped when something shiny caught his eye. He backed up a few steps and stared, his pulse picking up a few beats. “Mia, look at this.”

She stared at the students’ displayed art. “Interesting painting,” she said, her eyes taking in the row at her eye level. It was dark with a hint of insanity.

“Look up,” Reed said and she did. “Higher,” he said and she blinked.

“Well, well.” She rocked herself on her toes to get a better view of one budding artist’s rendition of a Fabergé egg tucked away on the top row. It sparkled with intricate beads and crystals set in geometric patterns. “Pretty. I wish I could get closer to see.”

“You want a boost?” he asked and she shot him a glare, but her eyes were amused.

“Smart-ass,” she muttered. “It took one hell of a chicken to lay that egg.”

“I think the chicken had some help.” He bent close to her ear. “It’s the right size.”

“And the right color,” she murmured. “I think we need a warrant. I’ll take care of it.”

His smile was satisfied. “And I’ll tell Dr. Bixby that we’ll be staying a little longer.”

She walked away, flipping open her cell phone. “Damn, you get to have all the fun.”

Wednesday, November 29, 3:15 P.M.

The art teacher was built like Reed Solliday, Mia thought as she looked around the room. His muscles bulged beneath the paint-spattered T-shirt he wore. His bald head gleamed like polished onyx. His fingers were bigger than hot dogs, the really expensive kind. His name was Atticus Lucas and he did not look happy to see them.

“Which student did the egg?” Solliday asked.

“I don’t have to—”

“Uh-uh-uh,” Mia interrupted. “Yes, you do have to tell us. Tell him, Mr. Secrest.”

“Tell them,” Secrest muttered.

Lucas looked slightly embarrassed. “None of them did.”

“So it’s a real Fabergé?” Solliday asked, tongue in cheek.

Lucas glared. “No need for the sarcasm, Lieutenant,” he said. “I did it.”

Mia turned to face him, blinking. “You?”

He stood as if at military attention, nodding. “Me.”

She looked at his thick fingers. “All that dainty work? Really?”

He scowled at her. “Really.”

“Did you do all the art in the display case?” she asked.

“Of course not. I was trying to show the kids that art could take different forms. I wanted them to think another student did it so that—”

“They wouldn’t think it was gay,” Mia finished with a sigh.

“Something like that,” Lucas said tightly.

“Well, now that your art’s been outed,” she said, “where are the rest of the eggs?”

“In the supply cabinet.” He walked to a metal cabinet and pulled the doors open. He took a tub and pulled at the lid. And blinked. “They
were
in here. They’re gone.”

Solliday glanced at Mia. “We’ll want to get fingerprints on the tub and the cabinet.”

“I’ll call Jack. But first, Mr. Lucas, when was the last time you touched the tub?”

“I made that egg in August. I haven’t touched the tub since then. Why?”

“How many eggs were there?” Mia pressed.

Lucas looked perplexed. “They’re just plastic eggs. I don’t get the big deal.”

“Just answer her question,” Solliday snapped and Lucas glared at him.

“A dozen, maybe. They were there when I got here two years ago. Nobody ever touched them except for me and only when I did that one egg.”

“A dozen,” Solliday murmured. “He’s used three. He’s got nine more to play with.”

Mia pulled out her cell phone to call Jack. “Shit.”

Solliday motioned to Secrest. “Take me to the lab. I want to check your chemicals.”

Mia held up her hand as they started to walk away. “And we’ll be taking Manny downtown. Arrange for a guardian or advocate.”

His jaw taut, Secrest nodded.

Wednesday, November 29, 3:45 P.M.

Solliday stood sideways in the small chemical storeroom because his shoulders wouldn’t fit. On any other man, the goggles on his face would look geeky, but they didn’t hurt Solliday’s looks one bit. Because it wasn’t the time to think so, she focused.

“You know your way around a lab,” she observed.

“A lot of fire inspectors major in chemistry,” he said.

“Did you?”

“Kind of.” He was checking bottles against the inventory he’d found on a clipboard hanging on the door. “My dad was a chemical engineer and I guess I had something to prove, so I majored in that, too.”

That he spoke of his adoptive father was understood. “I thought you were a firefighter before OFI.”

He crouched down to check out the bottom shelf. “I was. Being a firefighter was all I’d ever wanted to do. I applied for the academy the day after I got out of the army.”

Well, the army explained his obsession with shiny shoes. “But?”

“But my dad encouraged me to get a degree while I was still young, before I had a family to take care of. So I went to school on my GI money full-time until I was accepted into the academy and part-time after that until I finished. Took me a bunch of years, but it was worth it.” He looked up. “How about you?”

“Law Enforcement on a soccer scholarship. What are you looking for?”

“There are a couple of different ways to get ammonium nitrate. One is in a bottle.” He picked one up. “But this has its original seal and the inventory says they only had one.”

“When was it delivered?”

“August, three years ago.” He squinted at the label. “I’m really surprised a school this size has an inventory this extensive.”

“The previous teacher left it behind. I haven’t had to buy anything since I got here.”

Mia turned to find the science teacher observing from a few feet away. “How long have you been teaching here?”

“About a year. I’m Mr. Celebrese.”

“Dectective Mitchell and my partner, Lieutenant Solliday.”

“You’ll find the nitric acid in the locked cabinet, -Lieutenant. Here’s the key.”

Mia passed it to Solliday, who checked it off. “I take it a second way to get ammonium nitrate uses nitric acid.”

“Yeah, it does.” Solliday checked the cabinet and locked it back. “Still sealed.”

“We don’t use a lot of the stronger chemicals here,” -Celebrese said.

“Afraid the kids will splash each other with acid?” Mia asked.

Celebrese’s jaw went taut. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Solliday emerged from the closet, the goggles still on his face. “Not yet.” Ignoring Celebrese’s scowl, Solliday walked to the far wall, to a booth with a glass front.

“Looks like a salad bar with an overactive sneeze guard,” she said and he laughed.

“It’s a hood. People use volatiles here because it’s ventilated.” He pulled out the sniffer he’d used to measure hydrocarbons at Penny Hill’s house, pulled the glass window up a crack and slid the sniffer underneath. Immediately it began to squeal and Solliday smiled, a dark edgy smile that said he’d found what he was looking for.