Deadly Heat (Deadly #2)(41)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Seth lifted the container. “Yeah, we’ll officially confirm that real soon.”

Beneath the scent of soot and ash, Kenton could still smell the odor of whiskey and tequila. He had no doubt what the accelerant had been. And if the guy had used the booze…

“He brings the accelerant when he knows there isn’t anything on site.” Excitement had his heart thumping faster.

Seth and Lora both turned to him.

“He knew there were accelerants he could use at Hatchen’s garage.” Motor oil and gas. “So he used what was on scene.” And that had thrown off the arson investigators. “This time, he knew there’d be plenty of alcohol to use.” No need to bring another accelerant, not when the place was ready to blow on its own.

“He would’ve had to know the Randalls,” Seth said, “if he came in—”

“He came in knowing he’d set this place ablaze,” Kenton broke over the arson investigator’s words. “And he came in knowing that he didn’t have to bring a damn thing to start the job.” Because everything he needed had been right there.

So easy to slip in when the scene is already set for you.

“He’d been here before,” Kenton said as he surveyed the soggy, black remains of the house. “The bastard was here.” There one day to visit, there the next to kill.

One cold sonofabitch.

A calculating killer who’d taken the time to get to know his prey.

CHAPTER Ten

When they finally finished the sweep of the house, Lora and Kenton headed back outside. She sucked in the clean air, hating the bitter taste that always filled her mouth at an arson investigation scene.

Kenton stared at the older houses that lined the street. The houses were packed tightly together. “If he came here before, then someone might have seen him.”

She rubbed arms that shouldn’t have been chilled. “The police canvassed the scene last night, right?”

“They interviewed everyone here.” His gaze zeroed in on the house directly across the pothole-lined street. The house that would’ve had the best view of the Randalls’ place. “But maybe they just didn’t ask the right questions.”

He strode forward, heading for the light gray house with the broken shutter. Lora yanked off her latex gloves and followed behind him.

Kenton pulled out his badge as he walked across the street. “They didn’t ask about visitors who might have been here long before the fire.”

Excitement had her heart leaping. Could this be it? Oh, damn, but she hoped Phoenix had screwed up.

The old porch groaned when Kenton hurried up the steps. “Stay behind me,” he told her.

Kenton knocked on the door. The faded wood rattled.

Footsteps thudded behind the door. It opened a few inches and a grizzled face poked out. “What the hell do you want?”

Kenton moved forward, and she noticed that he positioned his right foot just inside that open door. He lifted his badge. “FBI, sir. I need to ask you some questions about—”

The guy snarled and tried to slam the door shut. Not gonna happen. Kenton braced the door and—

The man—balding, with thick arms and a burly chest—yelled when the door didn’t close. But instead of running back inside, he charged at Kenton.

“Fucking ass**le! You ain’t taking me back!” He barreled right into Kenton.

Lora screamed.

Kenton didn’t make a sound. He dropped his badge and caught the guy with a hard left hook. The attacker stumbled, blinked.

“I told you, I’m with the FBI, and you need to—”

The man just came at him again. His fist plowed into Kenton’s stomach.

“Screw this,” Kenton muttered. He grabbed the guy’s arms, spun him around, and slammed the man face-first into the doorframe. The man’s body sagged, and only Kenton’s hold seemed to keep him upright. “Asshole, come at me again, and it’ll be the last mistake you make.”

Lora’s breath rasped out. The violence had been fast and intense, and Kenton didn’t seem to have even broken a sweat.

But he had his gun out now, and they all heard the soft snick as he released the safety.

Lora realized her hands were balled into fists.

“Ease back, Lora,” Kenton ordered quietly.

Uh, right. She hurried back a few steps.

Kenton flipped the jerk around, and his gun stayed locked right on the guy’s chest. The man froze at the sight. Then, after a heartbeat of time, he started talking, fast, “Pl-please m-man… I just didn’t want to go back to jail…”

Kenton grunted. “And you thought swinging at an FBI agent was the way to stay on the streets? Wrong move, dumbass.”

“I just sold a l-little bit, okay? Just a couple of d-dime bags…”

The guy was a dealer? That was why he’d attacked?

“What’s your name?” Kenton asked.

“Q-Quint. Quint Harley.”

“Well, Quint, I wasn’t here because of the drugs.” Kenton wasn’t lowering his gun, and Lora thought that was a good choice. She didn’t trust the dealer not to slam into him again. “I wanted to ask you some questions about the Randalls.”

The dealer’s bulging eyes blinked a few times. “H-Hailey and that weird kid? They burned last night. Didn’t—didn’t you hear?”

“We heard,” Lora said flatly, crossing her hands over her chest.

Quint glanced her way, squinting against the sunlight.

“Before your ass gets hauled to jail,” Kenton said, “tell me who’s been visiting the Randalls.”

Quint shook his head. “N-no one. They weren’t real big on visitors.”

No, Hailey hadn’t exactly been the welcoming kind.

“You had to see somebody,” Kenton pressed. “I want physical descriptions, I want vehicle descriptions, I want—”

But Quint was still shaking his head. “I’m tellin’ you… they didn’t have company. Hell, the only cars I ever saw over there were black-and-whites. Cops were the only damn visitors they had.”

Kenton grunted. “So the boy kept causing trouble?”

“Nah, he was quiet once he came back. But Hailey screamed at him all the time. Heard her tell him that she’d be tossing his ass on the street soon.”

Only Hailey hadn’t tossed her son out. She’d burned instead.

So Michael had known that his mother was getting ready to dump him. Had that been what pushed him over the edge? Yeah, that could have broken the kid’s already damaged mind.