“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 over 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 flipped 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 followed 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 wordlawyerto 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.”
