Fireproof

his father turned him in?”
    “Paul Keller,” Tully said, and turned to look at her. “How do you know so much about all these cases?”
    “Are you kidding? Haven’t you watched any of Jeffery’s investigative pieces on these fires? He has more background trivia than Nadira will ever be able to squeeze in.”
    Tully saw Nadira smile, if you could call it that. The corner of his mouth lifted a notch.
    “He’ll be able to use some of it in his behind-bars documentary,” Nadira said. “Because he’s already pushed Big Mac to the limit on these arsons.”
    “Big Mac?” Tully asked.
    “Donald Malcolm. Our bureau chief,” Sam explained. “He’s lost interest in the fires. They’re not a big enough story.”
    “Really? How can this not be a big story?”
    “No body count.”
    Tully checked his watch. They would already be started on the autopsy. He didn’t agree with holding back the information thatthey had found a body in the alley and a skull inside one of the buildings. It wasn’t his call. Instead, he watched the chaos unfold on the monitor in front of him.
    He wondered who called in the fire. Then he realized Racine had never really told him how the body in the alley had been found. Did the firefighters find it? Or did the person who called in the fire know about the dead body? He made a mental note and pushed up his glasses again. That’s when he saw a block of red in the middle of the bystanders.
    “Stop the film.”
    Nadira hit a button. The screen froze.
    Tully pointed. “Is there any way to zoom in on this?”
    Without a word, Nadira tapped several keys.
    “What is it?” Sam leaned in over their shoulders.
    Tully watched the red block grow larger. It took several seconds for the blurred image to come into focus.
    It was difficult to make out the item, seeing only a slit of it between the bodies, but Tully thought it might be a red backpack.
    “Can you pull back on the zoom but keep this red block in the center and start the film again?”
    More taps and movement began, though subtle. The cluster of people stood still, watching. Soon the red started to move, snaking slowly through the group and inching away from the action. Before the man carrying it reached the corner of Sam’s viewfinder he disappeared.
    “Stop it,” Tully said. “Can you rewind and zoom in on this guy before he moves away from the crowd?”
    Nadira obeyed.
    “Who is he?” Sam asked.
    “I don’t know, but I have his backpack.”

CHAPTER 38

    Maggie drove to Quantico to meet with Keith Ganza while Racine worked on identifying the victim. Tully didn’t answer his phone and Maggie suspected he might still be at the television station.
    Even if Racine was able to find out who the woman was, there were still the questions of who killed her and why and where. How did she end up in the alley? Why did the killer set two buildings ablaze but fail to burn her body? And whose skull was inside? A homeless person looking for shelter? Or another murder victim?
    Ganza was getting his lunch when Maggie came into his lab. He pulled a couple of containers from the refrigerator, containers that Maggie could see had been sandwiched between vials of blood and packaged tissue samples. When he saw her, he raised one of the container’s lids.
    “Join me? Homemade lasagna.”
    “Did you make it?”
    “Oh God, no.”
    He placed it in the microwave, then retrieved two forks from a drawer. Maggie tore off several paper towels for placemats and napkins and set them on a table in the middle of the room whileGanza brought out paper plates and pulled a Diet Pepsi out of the fridge to set in front of her.
    It looked like the silent ritual of an old married couple and Maggie realized they had done this many times. Ganza had shared his lunch often and yet Maggie knew little about the man’s personal life. In fact, now that she thought about it, she had no idea who could have made the lasagna. He didn’t wear a wedding ring and had never talked about a family. She’d always assumed he was a bit like her—married to his job.
    At first glance he reminded her of Ichabod Crane, his tall, skeletal frame hunched over, his long, mostly gray hair tied back in a tight ponytail that seemed to make his face look more haggard than it was.
    “Let me show you something interesting that I found.” He pointed to the electron microscope that occupied a corner.
    Maggie put her eye to the viewer. The slide contained something long and thin, tubular