Fireproof

in her head was accompanied now by a ringing in her ears. But she stayed with him.
    He darted around a corner. Just as Maggie got there a shopping cart came barreling into her. She grabbed the front. Kept the cart from tipping and spilling all the tattered possessions inside. Its owner came next. The poor woman screamed at Maggie, fists raised, ready to do battle. Maggie swung the cart over to her and started running again. She had taken her eyes away for only a second or two, but now she couldn’t see the man.
    She stopped. Waited. Let her eyes check over the door wells. There were no alleys in this block. He couldn’t have made it around the corner and she didn’t see him across the street.
    She was breathing hard. Adrenaline pumping. Ears now a high-pitched hum. The thump at her temple had accelerated. Between it and the hammering of her heart, she couldn’t focus. Her vision blurred a bit. She leaned a palm against the cold brick building. That’s when she realized that she could see her reflection on the windows across the street.
    She started out again, slower this time. Walking and watching the reflections ahead of her. She stayed close to the building. Still, she didn’t see him. Could he have darted into one of these buildings?
    She craned her neck to look for a business sign and noticed there weren’t any fire escapes on this side, not even a rusted ladder. There were no low windows. Only one doorway, and it looked bolted. All of these buildings appeared to be warehouses or storage facilities.
    How could he have just disappeared?
    Maggie bent over, hands on her knees, catching her breath,trying to quiet the rumbling in her head. That’s when she realized she was spending too much time looking up.
    Steam billowed from the grates of a manhole cover. Steam was always billowing up from the District’s sewer system, especially on chilly days like today. But this cover lay askew, the lip overlapping the concrete. Someone hadn’t set it back correctly. Someone in a hurry.
    Maggie stared at it for a moment, then looked up and down the street one last time. She noticed an old woman going through a garbage receptacle, picking out aluminum cans. Across the street a man in coveralls leaned against the corner of a building, tapping on his cell phone. Another man was chaining his bicycle to a lamppost. Otherwise there was no one else around. Even traffic had been intermittent.
    She stood with hands on her hips. Stared at the manhole cover again. Why would the guy run if he wasn’t the arsonist? Did he come back to see if the dead body had been removed? The one that he put there. If he got away now, they might never catch him.
    Maggie released a long sigh. Then she squatted down to shove off the manhole cover, letting the metal clank and thump against concrete. Just as well let the bastard know she was coming down after him.

CHAPTER 23

    He wanted to tell her the guy with the backpack was a waste of her time. He was a nobody. One of those street people, a real loser. Still, he’d been keeping his eye on the man since before the fire. He hadn’t realized that he had used the poor bastard’s home—a crappy cardboard box—for his dump site. So he’d been keeping an eye on the raggedy man, though the guy hadn’t even noticed him.
    In fact, he had sort of forgotten about him, until the footrace.
    Wow! She could sprint.
    Her body looked like it was used to running, prepped and trained for the chase. He wondered how much faster she could run if she was the one being chased. There was that tingle again and suddenly he wanted very much to watch that. To see what her stride would look like when fear propelled her.
    He didn’t need to follow too quickly. He knew exactly where the homeless man was going. He knew his routine. Wasn’t like the guy was bright enough to change it up. And usually when someone was frightened he always resorted to the predictable. That was one of the reasons he had started doing a double now and then. Of course, the conditions had to be right for doubles but that just added to the challenge.
    By the time he rounded the corner she was already there—exactly where he knew the guy had dropped into his underground world. Actually an interesting world. He had followed the guy once before. A bit too confining for his taste, and the squirrelly bastard didn’t add much to the game. He moved like one of the displaced sewer rats, always looking over his shoulder. Nosier than hell. He was too