Authors: Greg Dinallo
Touched by Fire (23 page)
“For openers,” Gonzalez replied, “a witness to the Laguna burn saw a dark green van in the area.”
“No kidding? Sounds like we’re talking the same pyro as Las Flores.”
“It gets better. The crew sifting the flash point found a matchbook igniter and an empty cigarette pack.”
‘Way to go. Have ’em run it for prints and—”
“Already did,” Gonzalez replied with a suspense-filled pause. “
Yours
are all over it.”
Merrick’s jaw slackened. He knew all staff prints were routinely computer-compared to those lifted from evidence to eliminate any that, despite precautions, might have been left by field crews or lab workers. He also knew he hadn’t worked on the Laguna investigation. “Mine?” he exclaimed, clearly baffled.
“Uh-huh, your brand too. When was the last time you were up there?”
“Laguna Canyon? Gotta be years. I mean"—Merrick stopped as if thunderstruck, then blurted—"My brand?! Son of a bitch, it’s Rene!”
“Who?”
“Homeless lady. Name’s Rene . . . Rene
Rogers.
I gave her a pack of smokes. Run her DMV. I’ll hold.”
“Two out of two pyros of the female persuasion? Sure gonna skew the hell out of the stats, if you’re right.”
“Naw, we’re way overdue. Besides, the doc doesn’t count. Now, run me that DMV, pronto.” Merrick sensed
Lilah’s curiosity, and explained, “Looks like we came up with a prime in the wildfires—a lady.”
“Got her,” Gonzalez said when he came back on the line moments later. “ ’Seventy-nine Econoline van, dark green. Registration hasn’t been renewed since ‘ninety-four—but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been driving it.”
“Yeah, and ten to one she’s up there right now admiring her handiwork. Thanks, Gonzo, I’m rolling.”
“You have to go?” Lilah asked, unable to hide her disappointment.
Merrick shrugged resignedly. “Take care, Doc. I’ll be in touch.”
“Lilah,” she corrected gently, not wanting him to leave. “I’d really like it if you called me Lilah.”
Merrick nodded and took a step back, but their eyes refused to disengage. She reached out and touched his fire-reddened face with endearing tenderness. He took her hand in his, then, drawing her closer, kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then brushed her lips with his. Suddenly all the pent-up tension and emotional barriers gave way at once and they lunged into each other’s arms in a surging release of empathy and passion that Lilah hoped would never end.
“Lilah? Lilah, I’ve got to go,” Merrick finally said as their lips parted. “I’ve got to.”
“No, I won’t let you,” Lilah whispered hungrily as they stumbled toward the Blazer, clinging to each other, not wanting the moment to end. “I won’t.”
“I’ll call you,” he said.
“I’ll be knocking on your door bright and early with coffee if you don’t.”
Merrick laughed and pulled open the door, then he paused—as if something of staggering importance had
suddenly dawned on him. He slipped the phone from its sheath and thumbed a prestored number. “Gonzo . . . Yeah, it’s me. Do me a favor. Fletcher and Logan are on their way in. Bring ’em up to speed on Rene Rogers, and have ’em search that damned canyon till they find her . . . No, I won’t ... ’cause I’m not finished with the doc, that’s why . . . The rest of the day. Maybe tomorrow . . . Yeah, keep me posted.” Merrick tossed the phone on the seat, then turned to Lilah and embraced her.
She melted in his arms, her eyes brimming with tears, her heart pounding with euphoria, and kissed him. It was as if her soul had been imprisoned all these years and suddenly released. For the first time in her life Lilah Elizabeth Graham could sense the glimmering dawn of emotional security. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid her abuser might reenter it. For the first time in her life she was in the arms of a man who cared for her, a man who didn’t want something from her.
They were staring into each other’s eyes, savoring the moment, when something especially poignant dawned on her. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, she thought—and now, He taketh away and giveth. Lilah brushed a tear from her cheek, then hugged Merrick tightly and smiled at the irony.
While living in Santa Monica for the last twenty-five years,
Greg Dinallo
wrote and produced more than one hundred one-hour episodes for television. He has been employed by every major studio, wrote six movies for television, and a screenplay from one of his novels for Paramount. He recently moved back to New York with his wife, Gloria.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For technical assistance and information I am indebted to: John B. Livingstone, M.D., Professor of Child and Adult Psychiatry, Harvard Medical School; Wayne W. Grody, M.D., Ph.D., Associate Professor of Medical Genetics and Molecular Pathology, UCLA Medical Center; Kathryn E. Kronquist, Technical Director, Molecular Genetics, Specialty Laboratories Inc., Santa Monica, CA; and Judith Wilner, M.D., Department of Human Genetics, Mount Sinai Medical Center, New York. I’d also like to thank Linda Castellano and Melissa Robbins Rutovsky for their individual support; and Lieutenant Robert Duryea of the New York City Fire Department for his technical guidance and enduring friendship.
I am also especially indebted to my agent, Joel Gotler, for his enthusiasm and unending support through five novels; and to my editor at Ballantine, Doug Grad, for bringing this one back to life.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1998 by Greg Dinallo
ISBN: 978-1-4976-5567-6
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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