Page 41 of Fire and Bones

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Page 41 of Fire and Bones

Since Burgos was overseeing the arson investigation, I saw no problem sharing, and gave him an abbreviated version of the profile.

“So, your bag lady didn’t die in the fire.” He sounded grudgingly interested.

“Definitely not. I found no smoke or soot in her trachea or in what remained of her lungs.” I left it at that.

“When did she bite it?” The tiny gray eyes narrowing slightly.

“I can’t say for sure, but her death wasn’t recent.” You cold-hearted prick. I didn’t voice that assessment. “Any news on the four upstairs victims?”

Burgos guffawed, one cold note. Shook his head, careful not to dislodge his carefully sculpted do.

“I talked to this asshole Billie Norris who kinda acted as a gatekeeper at the dump. A brain trust he ain’t. By jostling Norris’s memory—the few cells able to break through the haze of blow he was floating in—I got him to cough up some leads.”

“Names?”

Burgos nodded. “Doc Thacker’s headache now. Could be a bitch getting records. The kid that called nine one one might have been Canadian. There was maybe another foreign national in the mix.”

“You’re sure it was arson?” I asked.

“Sure as my granny shits every dawn.”

“Based on what?” Cool. Hopefully hiding my revulsion for the man.

“Origin and spread. The pattern ain’t textbook, but it’s good enough for me.”

“Where did it start?”

“Kitchen area.”

“Did you find evidence of accelerants?”

Burgos sighed a most impatient sigh. “Look, lady. There’s things I gotta do.”

I debated sharing Doyle’s phone tip concerning the meth lab. Decided that wasn’t my place.

“Do you think one of the four upstairs vics might have been targeted?”

“Them or any of the scumbagfest in and out of that hole.”

Without so much as a nod, Burgos sidestepped me and strode off.

CHAPTER 10

I was on E Street, approaching the Mucha truck, when my mobile sounded.

Seeing the number, I groaned inwardly, but felt compelled to answer. After all, the woman was housing me until Thacker could secure a hotel room.

“Hey, Ivy. What’s up?”

“Les oiseaux dans le ciel. You?”

“I just finished analyzing the subcellar remains,” I said, puzzled by her reference to birds in the sky. To impress me with her command of French?

“Any surprises?” she asked.

“There are always surprises.”

Careful, Brennan. The woman is a reporter.




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