It had been nearly two years since she'd last been to Twinbrook. Several memories began flooding her mind, rushing back as fast as the trees she passed. She'd gone to college here, pursuing her dream of becoming an investigator. Four years she'd spent at that college, and in the end, her dream had come true. She was now one of the best detectives around.
That's why she'd been called back to Twinbrook. Kenzie's boss, Elliott, had come into her office a few days ago telling her about the latest case.
"Feel like going back to Twinbrook?" he'd asked.
"For what?"
"Seems there's a string of arsons happening there, and they want the best detective they can get."
"Arsons? Sheesh, doesn't Twinbrook look deserted enough, what with that swamp? Someone has to add burnt houses and buildings to the list?"
"I guess so. The police have suspects, but of course there's no evidence to prove any of them are guilty. So they can't do anything."
"And they need me to find some evidence to incriminate them, or to at least find out who's really doing it?"
"You got it."
Kenzie leaned back in her chair. Not all of her memories of Twinbrook were good. Still, keeping her promise to her best friend and to herself, she wasn't going to live in the past. She was going to be more carefree.
Of course, that shouldn't have also applied to her diet - her ever growing sweet tooth had caused her size 12 body to be pushing a size 16. Somehow losing all that weight didn't seem as appealing, or as easy, as putting it on.
Still, she'd grown her hair out and, when she felt like it, even combed her stubborn bangs off to the side. She was beginning to feel like a new person, but not one so new that she didn't recognize herself.
So why turn down a case in Twinbrook, just because not all memories of the town were pleasant?
At last, she said, "Fine, I'll go. But I'll have to pack."
"I'll get you the number of Twinbrook's chief of police so you can call her back."
"Thanks."
After Elliott left the office, Kenzie looked at her awards on her office wall and the pictures on her shelf. She wasn't about to turn down a case. It didn't matter where the place was, and how many bad memories it may hold - people didn't deserve to have their houses burned down for any reason.
That thought kept Kenzie going clear to Twinbrook, gripping her steering wheel as she approached the police station. She parked her Requiescence and hopped out, then climbed the stairs to the building's entrance.
The chief's name was Tara Chandler. Kenzie approached the reception desk and asked to see her.
"Is she expecting you?" the deputy asked.
"Yes, I'm Kenzie Howell."
"Oh, right. You're here about those arsons. Okay, come with me."
The deputy led Kenzie down a narrow hallway, at the end of which he knocked on a door.
"Come in," a throaty, yet feminine, voice called.
The deputy opened the door and Kenzie found herself staring at Chief Tara Chandler. Tara had to be at least 30, yet she looked no older than Kenzie's 24 years. It was wrong to judge a book by its cover, but Kenzie had never seen a chief that looked so young. In fact, if it weren't for the light hints of gray hair, Kenzie wasn't sure she'd have been able to tell Tara from a college student.
"Chief," the deputy said, "This is Kenzie Howell. She's here about the arsons."
Tara stood up from behind her desk, walked around, and shook Kenzie's hand.
"Glad you could make it," she said as she pumped her hand up and down in a surprisingly firm grip. "I'm Chief Chandler. But you can call me Tara."
Kenzie smiled and said, "Nice to meet you, Tara. I'm sorry about what's going on here in Twinbrook. I'll do anything I can to help."
"I appreciate that."
Tara signaled for the deputy to leave and invited Kenzie to sit down across from her desk. Kenzie obliged and looked around the office. It appeared to be more masculine than feminine, but Tara had undoubtedly added an area rug and a few plants and flowers to liven it up a bit.
Tara got right to the point.
"Like we discussed on the phone, someone's been setting houses on fire here. There doesn't appear to be any pattern, except that the home owners are never home when the fire starts. By the time they get home, it's too late."
"What about the neighbors?" Kenzie inquired. "Wouldn't they have seen something?"
"Actually, the neighbors are the ones who called us, on both occasions. They saw flames from the house next door, called the fire department, but of course by that time, the house was uninhabitable."
"Where have all these people gone who have lost their homes?"
"So far only two families have lost their homes. One family is living with relatives, and the other is staying at a shelter. Both are waiting for their insurance companies to come through."
Kenzie shook her head. "Who would do something like this? And why?"
"That's your job, isn't it?"
Tara chuckled and Kenzie laughed with her. Tara then stood up, withdrew some folders from a filing cabinet, and set them on her desk.
"We do have some suspects, both with records, albeit small ones."
"Let's hear it."
"First and foremost, we have Mark Duncan. He's a local teen prankster. Gets his kicks by throwing eggs at people's houses, and sometimes more grotesque things, like flaming bags of...well, you get the picture."
"Yeah...but why would a teen prankster turn into an arsonist? Serial killers can escalate, and so can arsonists, but they have to start with something small first. I realize Mark may throw flaming bags, but that isn't to cause any damage so much as to give someone a hard time. Not to mention damage their sense of smell for a while."
"Well we've tried talking to him and his dad since he's a minor, but that's gotten us nowhere. We have nothing on this kid except pranks. Of course, his dad's well aware of this, but even if he grounds him, he just sneaks out in the middle of the night. Plus his dad has enough problems. He just went through a divorce, so things are still pretty ugly. But of course Mark swears he has nothing to do with these fires."
"All criminals swear they're innocent until proven guilty."
"Of course. But anyway, that's Mark. Our second suspect is probably a little more likely to be doing this, but again, no proof. That would be Sierra Marvin. She's a registered pyromaniac. So of course burning down houses would mean nothing to her. She uncontrollably sets fires and has some sort of fetish with them. It's a running joke around here that maybe they get her hot."
"I'm sure if you were close enough, fires would get anyone hot."
Tara laughed and said, "That's a good point."
Kenzie finally asked, "Are there any other suspects?"
"Not at the moment. Those two are the most likely, but like I said, we have no proof that either one of them has done it. So we can't hold them."
"Has the fire department said anything?"
"The fire chief said it looked like the houses just started on fire for no reason. It could have been bad wiring, which is the obvious thing that happened, but I doubt that. The two houses were burnt a few days apart and both of them were relatively new, even though they didn't look it. But no one's found anything. Which is why you're here."
"Well, I'm ready to get started if you are. I'd like to begin by seeing one of the crime scenes."
"Sure, do you want to come with me or follow me in your car?"
"I'll follow you. It'll help me memorize the town again."
"Sounds good."
So Tara and Kenzie both stood up and headed out the door to one of the burnt crime scenes.
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