Page 33 of Arsonist’s Match (Blaze and Badge #1)

W hile Shoops researched his background information, Athena sat in on the interview with Simon Neel. They were in a corner of the situation room, not a formal interview room, as former Nutty Smooth Peanut Butter Cannery workers were scattered everywhere.

“I’m Special Agent John Paulson, and this is ASAC Athena Bouvier,” Paulson said, introducing them both.

Neel occupied a cushioned armchair near Paulson’s computer station with no shiny table or blazing overhead lights. While tapping his thumb to forefinger nervously, it seemed he’d recovered from his earlier shouting match.

“Simon Neel,” he replied. “How can I help? I’ve already been questioned once and can’t think of anything new to add.”

“Something might come to you,” Paulson suggested, “or we might ask different questions.” Paulson’s smile and unintimidating manner seemed to set Neel at ease. His finger tapping stopped, and he nodded.

“You told the fire department you had been at work on July 1 st .”

Athena was content to observe Neel while Paulson asked the questions, paying close attention to his body language and emotional cues.

“That’s right. I was filling jars that day, only Jolene had just broken up with me by text—can you believe it?

Later in the day, I wasn’t feeling well, and they let me go home early,” Simon explained.

He shook his head. “I didn’t see or hear anything suspicious.

When I heard about the fire, I assumed some trouble-making kids had done it for kicks, or something. ”

“If so, it would have stopped there. We are now investigating five fires we believe were started by the same perpetrator, and it’s not a gang of rowdy kids.” Paulson pinned Simon with an intense stare. “How well do you know the owner, manager, and other employees?”

“There’s a couple of guys on the line I talk to, eat lunch with,” he shrugged, “but they wouldn’t do something like that. My supervisor was a jerk, but he had nothing to gain. Honestly, I didn’t know the owner or manager at all.”

“You didn’t witness an altercation, an accident, any drama in the weeks leading up to the fire?” Paulson readied his pencil to take notes.

Simon rubbed his chin, a look of deep concentration lining his youthful face. His nails were bitten to the quick, his fingers tobacco stained.

“I can’t think of anything. Five fires, you say?” Simon leaned back, crossed a foot over his knee, and shook his head. “That’s terrible. And Jolene’s warehouse was one of them, eh?”

“I suppose you’ve seen stories about it on the news,” Paulson admitted.

Agent Howard darted up to Athena, cupped his hand to her ear, and whispered. Taking in his report, she nodded. “Thanks. Inform Shoops.” Howard disappeared in a flash.

“Where were you the night of the cannery fire?” inquired Paulson in a casual tone.

“Like I said, I wasn’t feeling well—emotional slap in the face.” Neel shrugged. “I was home in bed.”

Changing tacks, Paulson asked, “What have you been up to since then?”

“Looking for a job!” Simon let out a laugh, dropping both feet to the floor.

“It’s not as easy as it looks, I tell you.

I finally went on unemployment, but I’ve still been pushing applications.

My stepdad used to complain all the jobs were going to China and Mexico. ” He shrugged. “Maybe he was right.”

“Can you account for your whereabouts on July 17th, August 8th, September 7th, and this past Thursday night?”

Athena scrutinized Neel’s response, the subtle tug at his collar, how his gaze flicked away from Paulson, and his slow, deep breath.

Pressing a hand onto his knee, he lifted a confused expression.

“Can’t rightly recall July and August, but September 7 th was a Saturday, and I drove to the beach to cool off and try to calm down from job-hunting stress. ”

“Which beach?” Athena asked, speaking for the first time.

He glanced at her in curiosity. “Porretto Beach, on the island,” he answered, tilting his head at her. “Picked up some beers at the Snack Shack and lay around, soaking up the sun. This past Thursday, I was tired from beating the streets job-hunting, so I went to bed early.”

“How long have you known Jolene Carver?” Athena asked. She didn’t intend to usurp John’s interview; it just happened.

“We met in June, through a mutual acquaintance. She’s a few years older but seemed fun. We talked a little, and I asked her out. We must have dated for two weeks or more, then, out of the blue, she sends me a text saying it was fun and all, but she was ready to move on—didn’t want to see me again.”

“Harsh,” Athena conceded.

“I know, right?” He raked a hand through his burnished hair. “But, whatever. I can do better.”

“I’m sure you can,” Paulson replied consolingly. “Mr. Neel, did you enjoy working at the peanut butter cannery?”

His face went blank, and he blinked. “What kind of question is that? Nobody liked working there. Stupid, boring … treated us like robots. It was a paycheck; isn’t any job?

Now, maybe if I could do something exciting, like being a cop or a fireman, then it’d be different. Most people just aren’t that lucky.”

“I suppose not,” said Athena. Long hours, grisly crime scenes, and the deaths of colleagues aside, she loved her career in the FBI, and Flash lived to be a firefighter. She supposed it was the difference between a job and a calling.

“Thank you, Mr. Neel.” Paulson stretched out a hand, and Simon shook it. “Good luck with the job hunt, and, if we need anything else, we’ll call.”

It took o ver an hour to question the cannery employees. By that time, Shoops had the lowdown on Neel. Athena called everyone to gather in the conference room.

As they were getting set up, Paulson wheeled into the spot to Athena’s right. “What’d Howard whisper to you back there?”

A crooked smile snaked across her lips. “According to the human resources officer, she fired Neel on the spot for breaching sanitation protocol, after a long history of minor violations and complaints. She said he left ‘steaming mad.’ So, Mr. Neel lied to us. What else did he lie about? Shoops?”

The petite woman scuffled to her seat, pushed up her glasses, and glanced around the table.

As soon as Hernandez became the last to sit, she threw open a folder.

“I’ve got a world of trouble here. Simon Neel did not enjoy a happy childhood.

His father skipped out on him and his mom when Simon was two.

She remarried, but the stepfather wasn’t a nice guy.

There were complaints and suspected child abuse put forth by the kid’s school, only police couldn’t find enough evidence to charge the big bully.

Neither Simon nor his mom would testify against him.

When Simon was twelve, their family home burned to the ground.

The boy was at home alone at the time and suffered a severe burn to his right hand and wrist. The fire was deemed an accident of unknown origin, but now you have to wonder. ”

Wonder indeed, Athena thought as she pictured it.

“Little Simon was a bright boy but made poor grades in school and dropped out at age seventeen, when he moved out of his parents’ house,” Karen continued. “He’s done a lot of odd jobs, all blue-collar work, and—get this—he washed out of the fire academy.”

“How’d I miss him?” Howard puzzled. He lifted his palms innocently. “I swear, I looked at every washed-out, washed-up, or otherwise disreputable firefighter in the city.”

“That’s a lot of names to stare at,” Hernandez offered empathetically.

“Anyway,” Shoops continued, “Neel had been at the peanut butter cannery for almost three years before it burned down.”

“Any record of him being a firestarter?” Paulson asked.

Shoops fl ipped a page and shook her head. “He’s never been to mental health or seen a therapist, except for maybe a school guidance counselor. No criminal record, even juvenile, although he missed a lot of school days.”

“Unfortunately, we see that often in child abuse cases,” Athena commented. “This, together with his little lie about why he left work early, makes him a suspect. Then there’s the connection with Jolene Carver, whose workplace was also targeted.”

Athena rose, glided to a large whiteboard, photos in hand, and picked up a marker. She created the case board as she talked.

“Let’s review everything we have so far and look for more connections. Primary suspects:

“Calvin Rusk—firebug, has an aggravated assault conviction, a tough childhood, ticketed in Shreveport the day of that fire, and has a connection to the victim, Beth Knowles. A little on the older side but fits the BAU profile.”

She taped up the next photo and scrawled underneath it.

“Ricky De León—hero complex, kicked out of the HFD for substance abuse, likes to show up and watch fires, worked at the Synergy Warehouse, and loves to flick his lighter. He fits the profile and doesn’t have solid alibis, but nothing connects him to the other fires.

“Jolene Carver—as disagreeable as they come, fired from Synergy Warehouse Collective days before the fire, and lied to us, saying she quit. Has a connection to Simon Neel—lovers? Frenemies? Partners in crime?”

Under the other notes, Athena wrote: Partners?

“That brings us to Simon Neel—abusive childhood, underachiever, washed out of the fire academy, possible triggering incidents of being dumped and fired on the same day. What about the other names on the list?”

Shoops spoke up first. Athena took pride in the growth in assertiveness she’d witnessed out of the shy, bookish agent. Maybe she’s taken my advice to heart.

“Bo Nylander, Jolene’s firefighter ex-husband, checks out. He was on shift during two of the fires, and his captain vouches for him one hundred percent.”

“I foll owed up on Trina Delgado,” Howard hurriedly declared. “I thought she could be good for it, but her alibis for three of the—well, five now—nights are solid.”

“Jesse Morales is still in play,” Paulson offered.

“I tried to have him brought in for questioning, but his parents intervened and called their lawyer. His lawyer said we’d need a warrant.

I tried to explain that we just wanted to ask the kid a few questions, but he shut me down.

Some hotshot with Shuster and Shuster—said I could give him a list of our questions, and he might allow Jesse to respond.

” The veteran agent sighed. “Without anything to tie him to a fire, it wasn’t worth the bother. Now, if none of these others pan out …”

“You made the right call,” Athena concurred. She added his name and the word lawyer to the board.

Agent Campbell reported next. “I interviewed Jericho Barnes while you were at the task force meeting this morning. The owner of the bar he works for swears he was on the job until closing at two a.m. on all the arson dates. But, man,” Campbell swore, eyes widening.

“He might not have set those fires, but that guy’s worth keeping an eye on in general.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up as a mercenary with some paramilitary group that topples governments.

Serious kick-ass type who hates everything but money. ”

“Duly noted,” Athena replied, shifting her gaze to Ice, who squirmed uncomfortably.

Glancing at the ceiling, he twirled his fingers together two inches off the table. “I got nothing.” Snapping his attention to her, he added, “I mean, I’ve been trying to dig up more suspects. And Hernandez and I followed Rusk and De León but couldn’t catch them doing anything wrong.”

“Were you on them Thursday night?” she asked urgently.

“Yeah,” Hernandez answered sheepishly. “I tailed Rusk and Ice staked out De León. But when their lights went out around eleven, we both figured they were in for the night and called it.”

Athena smirked in dissatisfaction, this time giving in to an eye roll. “So we don’t know if one of them left later to go set that factory fire?”

The two brawny men shook their heads.

“Five primary suspects who fit the profile, no witnesses or evidence putting any of them at a crime scene, therefore not enough for any search warrants,” Athena pondered aloud.

“Fire Investigator Ballard said they found some suspicious materials at the Lone Star fire, sent them to the lab. She promised to let me do a walk-around tomorrow. Paulson, I want a team of our lab guys out there to collect fingerprints, DNA, or anything else they can pull off a surface. I know it’s a long shot, but this scene is fresh, making it our best shot.

Keep working the arson for hire angle, too.

Don’t these businesses have anything in common? ”

The agents flicked blank glances at one another for a moment.

“None are owned by the same individual or company,” reported Paulson.

“None of our suspects are connected to all five,” Howard voiced.

Campbell said, “They represent different industries altogether.”

“They don’t have the same insurance company,” Ice added.

“Three are in Houston,” Hernandez pointed out, “but what’s with Little Rock and Shreveport? If not for the signature, we’d never lump those two in with the local fires.”

Then Shoops raised a finger. “They all hire blue-collar workers.”

“True,” Paulson considered. “But, like Howard said, the employees don’t overlap.”

“No, they don’t,” Athena said, inspiration lighting her face. “But that doesn’t mean the same person wasn’t turned down at all of them. We’ve been asking who got the job. Maybe we should ask who didn’t. What do you do with rejected job applications?”

Paulson met her gaze. “Throw them out.”

“There wouldn’t be any records of applicants turned away,” Howard deduced. “So, how do we find them, and is it relevant?”

“It is if the arsonist’s motive is revenge.” Athena let the idea settle for a beat. “OK, get to it!”