Incandescent (19 page)

“You look happy today,” she observed.

Anna beamed. “I am,” she admitted. She
blushed when Phoebe waggled her eyebrows. She turned to her father,
placing a cautious hand over his bandaged arm.

“How are you, Dad?”

James’ eyes flitted between his daughter and
his visitor. “What’s going on with you two? What are you talking
about?”

Anna shrugged. “Men.”

He slumped back onto the pillow. “Ah, so I
take it Aaron is back in town?”

Anna lifted a shoulder in concession.

“And the two of you have made up?”

“Okay, yes,” Anna said, a wry grin lighting
her face. “You guys win. Aaron and I are together again. This time,
we’re being a bit more honest and open with each other. And when I
say we, I really mean he.”

James looked at the wall behind his daughter,
his thoughts clouding as he considered a future where Anna left
Eaton. When his eyes flickered to Anna, he winked. Maybe he was
jumping to conclusions.

Phoebe, however, didn’t pull punches. “When
you say “together,” do you mean something permanent? Isn’t he from
Harrisburg?”

Anna’s nervous laugh was more of a bark.
“Hah! Not so fast, Phoebe. We’re not making any plans yet. We’re
just enjoying each other’s company.”

James rolled his eyes. “That’s the last thing
a father wants to hear.”

Phoebe patted his bandaged shoulder. “I’m
sure they’re only playing patty-cake,” she said.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these
days?” His sarcastic joke took the edge off Anna’s unease.

Anna raised her hands. “Okay, enough, you
two. My relationship with Aaron and anywhere that may lead is not
open to discussion. We have other things to talk about. Like the
fact there may be a second arsonist.”

Back at the diner, Aaron showed Frankie
several mugshots. She picked up a photo. “He’s been here before,”
she said.

Aaron leaned forward. “Are you sure?”

Frankie nodded. “Yep. Sure am. He’s an ugly
one.”

He had a name now for the monster dogging
Anna’s steps. Frederick Dirksen spent thirty years in Leavenworth,
his last ten years overlapping with Wayne Montgomery’s sentence.
That was the connection. How the two met, how they collaborated and
planned Dirksen’s revenge. Dirksen had been a Marine who followed
handsome men home from bars. Instead of approaching them, Dirksen
would stalk them and set fires in their cars. His choice of
accelerant was a lit cigarette, swaddled in cotton along with a
book of matches. He’d wrap the items in a piece of paper and secure
it with a rubber band.

He’d been caught after one of his victims
noticed him stalking him and cornered him in an alley. He attacked
Dirksen, beating him senseless. Police responding to a report of an
altercation, found Dirksen in a heap, his face a bloody pulp. They
found an incendiary device in his pockets. A warranted search of
his home revealed the makings of several more, and photos of men,
including seven whose cars were destroyed by fire. One of the men
was injured when he returned to his car before the smolder erupted
into flames.

As an active Marine targeting other military
personnel, Dirksen was tried and found guilty and sentenced to
thirty years. The prosecuting Judge Advocate was then-Major Charles
Halstead. His legal staff included James Braddock Johnson.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Aaron spent the rest of the afternoon at
police headquarters, bringing officers up to date on his
investigation. Eaton P.D. issued an all-points bulletin for
Dirksen, however, with such a small department, the county sheriff
and state police were notified to be on the lookout.

After a lengthy conversation with Cooper, he
sat down with Rand and other Eaton police officers to discuss his
plan. With luck, they would apprehend Dirksen tonight.

Regardless of her father’s injury and the
shadow of death haunting her, Anna had a class to teach. Aaron
didn’t want her to go, but she insisted. He dropped her off at
Marshall College and told her to wait in the classroom until he
returned to pick her up. He didn’t want her walking through any
dark parking lots.

At dusk, Aaron parked his truck two blocks
away, then slipped through neighbor’s yards until he reached the
Johnson’s back door. Using a key he’d lifted from the judge’s desk
that morning, he let himself into the dark house. He removed a pair
of night vision goggles from his bag and slipped them on. If he was
right, Dirksen was back in Eaton and planned to start a fire at
Johnson’s house.

He went into the hallway and located the fire
detector. He removed the cover and saw the same brand of red
battery that was in Lacey’s detector. He popped out the battery and
tested it with the voltmeter he’d removed from his bag. It was
dead.

One fire detector was a coincidence, but all
of them throughout the house and the garage were dead. The dead
detectors mean one thing: Dirksen had entered the house, replaced
the batteries and planned to return to start the fire later in the
night. His usual M.O.

Aaron was confident Dirksen had not yet set
the fire. It was too unpredictable, leaving a cigarette smoldering.
A blaze could occur at anytime. If Dirksen wanted Anna to be in the
house when it caught fire, his plan would be to return late. He
needed to find the accelerant Dirksen planned to use when leaving
his cigarette-matchbook calling card.

Better yet, he needed to have the Eaton
Police in place when Dirksen returned. Catching the arsonist on the
scene would eliminate a tenuous charge when they arrested him.

Aaron waited outside the Marshall College
computer lab. The students eyed him with curiosity as they left the
room. Anna smiled when she saw him. “I’m glad to see you,” she
said, kissing his cheek and handing him the heavy messenger bag. “I
could use a pack mule.”

He slung the bag over one shoulder. “We’ve
made a lot of progress,” he said.

She hesitated, her footsteps faltering. “You
caught him!”

Aaron shook his head. “No, not yet, but we’re
close. I’ll tell you about it in the car.”

Ten minutes later, Anna blew out a deep
breath. “I can’t believe he’s been in our house,” she said with an
involuntary shudder. “And you really think he’s coming back?
Tonight?”

“It looks that way,” he said. “But you don’t
have to be there. My plan is simple. We go to your house, as usual.
He’s probably somewhere close, watching. We go to bed at a normal
time. Let Fred out, turn off all the lights and let him think the
coast is clear. Then we sneak back downstairs, out the back door
and through the neighbor’s yard. Rand will be waiting in an
unmarked car two streets over. He’ll take you to the hospital to be
with your father. Or to Gretchen’s place. Anywhere you want to go,
but you can’t stay here.”

“Where will you be?”

“Here. I’ll double back and wait for him. I
need him to enter the house before I can arrest him,” he said.

“You can arrest people? But you’re a fire
marshal, not a police officer.”

“I’m both,” he said. “There are two levels of
fire marshals in Pennsylvania: the state police fire marshal and
the local fire marshal. I’m with the state police,” he said. “We
are the final investigative authority for costly fires or where a
death has occurred.”

Aaron explained the Commonwealth’s system,
detailing how local fire marshals investigate fires, obtain and
execute search documents, take evidence, and detain and question in
the process of establishing origin and cause.

Although both could testify in civil and
criminal court proceedings, and collaborate with insurance
investigators, only state fire marshals were able to detain,
question or arrest suspects, enforce laws and protect themselves
during potential high-risk investigations.

Anna prompted him to explain a high-risk
scenario.

“Pennsylvania has some of the largest meth
labs in the U.S.,” he said, adding, “The guys who operate those
have guns. Many have been found during a fire marshal’s
investigation. You know the NRA’s saying, ‘The only way to stop a
bad guy with a gun is with a good guy with a gun.’”

She’d considered Aaron’s weapon as a macho
statement, part of his swagger. Her heart raced at the thought he
would need it to protect himself. To protect her.

“When this is over, I’ll take you to the gun
range. Teach you how to use one. That way you won’t be worried
about it.” He squeezed her hand, releasing it as he turned the
wheel into the Johnson’s driveway.

Chapter Forty

Aaron walked Anna to her front door, and said
goodnight. Anna waved as he drove away, keeping an eye on Fred. The
old dog meandered around the yard, sniffing at bushes and raising
his leg. She wrapped her arms around her waist and looked up and
down the street, wondering if one of the cars along the curb
belonged to Dirksen. She shuddered, thinking he could be watching
her right now. She whistled for the dog, and went inside.

Dirksen lifted the small binoculars to his
eyes. He watched as lights turned on, then off, in a series
indicating Anna Johnson was home and settling in for the night.
He’d been waiting for her to come home from Marshall College, his
frustration building when he saw the fire marshal with her. He
smiled in satisfaction when the marshal drove away. So far, so
good.

Two blocks over, Aaron parked his truck
behind Rand’s unmarked car. He gave the younger officer a thumbs
up, before jogging off, into the night.

As he sat in the dark, Rand heard a dog bark.
Perspiration beaded his forehead, from nerves and from the hot,
summer night. A few minutes later, he jumped, startled when he
heard a rap on the passenger door. “Cover the light,” Aaron
said.

Rand pressed a hand over the fixture, and
Aaron opened the door. Anna slid into the seat next to Rand, her
smile nervous and shaky. “Hi,” she whispered. “This isn’t as nice
as your other car.”

Aaron leaned into the open door, pressed a
quick kiss on Anna’s lips. He turned to Rand. “You know what to do.
Take her to the hospital. Make sure she’s in the judge’s room
before you leave. I don’t expect anything to happen for
awhile.”

“Will do,” Rand replied, “I’ll text you when
I get back.”

Aaron returned the way he came. He let
himself into the silent house, dark except for an upstairs bedroom
light. He wanted Dirksen to think Anna was in her room, awake and
alert. Fred, groggy from a mild sedative he’d eaten in a cheese
wedge, raised his head and thumped a weary tail as Aaron opened the
bedroom door. “How you doing, buddy?”

Aaron turned off the light, petted the dog
and went downstairs. He put his night vision goggles back on and
positioned a chair by the front window to wait. On occasion, his
cell phone vibrated and he read short messages from Rand and from
Anna.

Sitting still for three hours gave Aaron a
chance to think. He recalled his conversation with Cooper that
afternoon.

“You told her you loved her?” Cooper
repeated. “Well, what did she say?”

“Nothing,” Aaron admitted. “Nothing yet. I
guess she’s still considering it. Maybe she doesn’t feel the same
way.”

Cooper cleared his throat. “Well, there’s
only one way to find out,” he said. “But more important, what are
you thinking, son?”

After seconds of silence, Aaron spoke. “I
want her to marry me.”

Cooper smiled, his chest swelling. “Well, I
think that’s a good idea. Time you settled down.”

“That’s if she’ll have me,” Aaron said, doubt
clouding his thoughts. “It’s a lot to ask someone. To give up her
job and move away. To leave her father.”

Neither man considered Aaron giving up his
career and relocating to Eaton.

“Like I said, there’s only one way to find
out,” Cooper said.

Movement in the shadows caught his eye.
Adrenaline surged through his bloodstream as he watched a man
carrying a small container step out of the darkness. He disappeared
from view as he sidled up to the house. Aaron moved with stealth
from window to window until he caught sight of the man again. He
was slipping around to the side of the house where the garage door
afforded him privacy. Aaron crossed the kitchen to the garage door,
moving quickly so he could be in place when the intruder entered
the house.

He crouched beside a workbench, gun drawn,
and waited. Seconds passed and he heard a faint scratching. Metal
on metal as the man used burglary tools to pick the lock. Several
minutes later, Aaron felt irritated, almost wanting to unlock the
door for the arsonist.

The lock clicked into place and the door
swung open. The man entered, hesitating with every step. He set the
container down, pulled out a small flashlight and flicked it on.
The beam danced over the room. The sudden, bright light caused a
booming effect, temporarily blinding Aaron. He squeezed his eyes
shut, and pushed the goggles up on his forehead. By some stroke of
luck, the man hadn’t been looking in his direction.

“Freeze, asshole,” Aaron growled. “Put your
hands in the air.”

The man dropped the container and flashlight
and lurched for the door. In the dark, he tripped over the lawn
mower. Aaron reached for the garage light, flicked it on so the man
could see him, and spoke again. “Make one more move and I’ll
shoot.”

Aaron looked down the barrel of his gun, into
the scowling, pock-marked face of Frederick Dirksen. “Just give me
a reason, Dirksen,” he said.

The man froze, and raised his hands
slowly.

Aaron tipped his head to one side. “Get down
on the ground, hands behind your back,” he said.