Fireproof

from Maggie, only to drop down a manhole, had looked homeless. Maybe it was just a disguise. If he was the arsonist, maybe that’s how he managedto blend in. Both Tully and Maggie suspected that the fire starter walked to the sites. How better to get away than to drop underground and make your way safely home?
    Of course, the church fires in Arlington threw Tully’s hunch way off. Still, he had a gut feeling that this guy—whoever he was—knew something more. Maybe he had seen something or someone. After all, why disappear down a manhole the night of the fire when he could have easily walked away without notice? And was it a coincidence that he disappeared before the second building burst into flames?
    Between the corner shop named Willie’s and the fire site, Tully had narrowed it down to three manholes that could easily be accessed without much notice or without traffic running over them. Then he found a place where he could watch all three.
    Along with the napkins he had found several store receipts smashed into the bottom of the backpack. Most of them were from Willie’s. And all of those had time stamps between five and seven o’clock in the evening.
    Tully bought a sandwich and coffee from Willie’s and found his place. It was ten minutes before five. He figured he could kill a couple of hours hanging out. He sat down on the cold concrete, realizing quickly why most of the steamy grates were already occupied.
    He ate his sandwich, sipped his coffee. He had memorized the blown-up photo he had of the guy. Although the features were mostly shadows, he thought he would recognize the guy’s build, shaggy hair, and pointy beard. But it didn’t really matter. How many guys would be coming up from a manhole after five o’clock?
    He sat and ate and sipped and watched. Thirty minutes later his butt felt numb against the cold concrete. He thought aboutmoving to one of the grates, but there were no vacancies and he worried he might not be able to see all three manholes. The sun had disappeared behind the buildings and from the sidewalk. It would get damp and chilly very quickly.
    Tully pulled himself up and leaned against the building, looking for a warmer place. He was a bit distracted when suddenly an orange hard hat popped up out of the manhole farthest away on the other side of the street.

CHAPTER 60

    Maggie watched Dr. Mia Ling clearing her credentials with the uniformed cop at the first checkpoint. For Ling to be here instead of Stan Wenhoff, the medical examiner, or one of Stan’s deputies, meant the bodies inside had been reduced to very little flesh and mostly bone. Pathologists worked with tissue and organs. Anthropologists were called in when there wasn’t much left to recover.
    Just before Ling ducked under the crime scene tape she saw Maggie. She didn’t bother to hide the obvious relief on her face.
    Maggie wished that all it took was a familiar face to make her more comfortable. The fire had already been put out, the building no longer in flames or spewing black smoke. Firefighters had pulled back their equipment. A rescue crew of paramedics was treating three firefighters at the mobile unit. One sat with an oxygen mask. Another’s head had been wrapped, the gauze already soaked with blood. The third was bent over beside the tire well and it looked to Maggie like he was throwing up.
    She tried to ignore her own nausea. She had just taken three ibuprofen, hoping they might dull her headache. No luck yet. In the short time it took for her to walk the hundred feet over toDr. Ling, she noticed the woman’s look of relief change to one of concern.
    Before Ling could ask if she was okay, Maggie held up her hands in surrender.
    “Just a bad headache,” she told the doctor, deciding not to share the fact that her stomach had started to roller-coaster on her.
    “You don’t have to go inside.”
    Maggie hadn’t gone into the previous buildings. Ling was right. She didn’t have to go into this one either. But this arsonist was accelerating at an unpredictable speed. If she wanted to understand him and know how to catch him, she would have to look at the crime scene herself.
    “I need to see what he does.”
    Dr. Ling stared at her for almost a minute. Then she nodded and headed for the burned-out entrance. Before going in, Ling stopped, opened her duffel bag, and pulled out two pairs of tightly rolled up Tyvek coveralls. She handed one to Maggie.
    “I always carry extra.”
    A firefighter had