Page 142 of Fire and Bones

“Looks that way.”

Ice solidified in my chest.

“Susan Lipsey is still hospitalized and not allowed any form of communication,” I said, puzzled.

“She is.”

“Where are the Stoll twins?”

“Still in the wind.”

“Would they…?”

I let the question hang unanswered. Thacker didn’t try.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Go back to sleep. I’m calling to make sure you’re still in DC.”

“I am,” I said.

Shitballs, I thought.

Morning dawned with a fine drizzle spattering the leaves outside my window. The sky, a melancholy gray, was threatening to ratchet things up into full-on rain.

First off, I checked my phone. Was shocked to see that I’d slept until nine-thirty.

Understandable. I hadn’t fallen asleep again until after five. And—except for the muted drops beyond the glass—as usual there wasn’t a sound in the house.

Propping myself up in bed, I scrolled through my latest emails and texts. Ads. Credit card offers. Facebook notices. Found nothing from Thacker.

Pulling on sweats, I brushed my hair and teeth, then dialed the ME’s office. Thacker was busy doing an autopsy. The receptionist assured me my call would be returned as quickly as possible.

Four hours later it was. I was at Ivy’s mile-wide kitchen island, making a salami sandwich and looking out over the soggy grounds.

“Thanks for making yourself available,” Thacker said. “But we won’t be needing your help on this one.”

“You’ve IDed the vic?”

“No. But we will. The DOA is female, probably white, probably in her twenties. She was badly burned, but we managed to lift prints and observe a carnival of body details.”

“Death was due to smoke inhalation?” I asked.

“I’m still working on that.” Did Thacker sound uneasy? Or merely tired?

A brief hum of empty air. Then she asked, “Do you remember Sergeant Burgos?”

“Fireman Frolicsome.”

“That’s the guy. Laugh a minute. Anyway, Burgos is also heading the team handling this investigation and, with some urging from yours truly, he shared a few very early observations. As you know, the two other buildings that were torched belonged to the same holding company.”

“W-C Commerce,” I said.

“So does this third one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Not something I’d kid about. Which explains why this fire was discovered so quickly. You know Merle Deery, right? The homicide detective that Susan Lipsey shot?”