Polar (Book 2): Polar Day Page 13

  “Maybe you and I should go have a talk with Jamie Dzubenko. See if we can get a feel for him ourselves. We could say we’re meeting with people who knew Max Fugate. And that we’re looking into previous suspicious fires in the city.”

  “That’ll work. He won’t buy it but that’s okay. We’re just going to be talking to him.”

  “Want to head over to the hospital and see if he’s working?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Danny stood up and rubbed his hands together, excited to have a lead to follow. The thundering voice of his boss interrupted his plans.

  “Glad to see you here, Fitzpatrick,” Jack said. “Nice of you to make it in. Tessa called you how many times?”

  “Sorry about that, Captain. I was following up on a lead and didn’t realize my phone was turned off.”

  Jack rolled his eyes in exactly the same manner Tessa had. “Bullshit. I don’t know what you were up to and I really don’t give a shit if it gives us something to latch on to in this case. Because believe it or not, it just got worse.”

  “Oh no,” Tessa said. “Someone else has been killed?”

  “No, not yet. But we did get another letter from our murderous arsonist.” Jack waved a piece of white paper encased in an evidence bag. “He got in touch with us again.”

  Jack placed the clear evidence bag on Tessa’s desk so the two detectives could see the letter and its message.

  “Do you think Jennifer Higgins and the Reverend Phillips guessed correctly?” was written across the top of the page in the same precise print that had been on the previous letter.

  “This son of a bitch,” Danny said. “He did write ‘who do you think is next?’ last time, didn’t he?”

  “He did. Obviously he thinks he’s being funny now,” Jack said.

  “There’s more though,” Tessa said, pointing to an amateurish pencil drawing of a fire in the middle of the page. An unskilled hand had drawn orange and red flames across the paper. Below the drawing was another question. “Are you ready for Vulcanalia?”

  “What the hell is Vulcanalia?” Danny asked.

  “No idea,” Jack answered.

  “I guess we better find out,” Tessa said.

  She sat back down at her desk and booted up her computer. Her eyes scanned the results of her google search.

  “Oh my God,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “What is it?” Jack asked, trying to read the screen over Tessa’s shoulder.

  “Vulcanalia was a festival held every August in ancient Rome to honor Vulcan, the god of fire. The Romans set bonfires all over the city to honor him and threw animals into the fires as sacrifices.”

  “When in August?” Danny asked.

  “August 23.”

  “So you think this is a warning that this horse’s ass is going to set the city on fire on the 23?” Jack asked.

  “I’d say that’s a safe bet,” Danny said. “And instead of animals, maybe he plans on using humans for the sacrifices. Maybe that’s what he’s already been doing.”

  “Aww, Jesus,” Jack said. “See what I mean? It just keeps getting worse. So he’s not only an arsonist who can apparently start fires out of thin air, he’s also a batshit lunatic who’s worshipping some ancient god. Christ Almighty.”

  “When was Max Fugate murdered?” Tessa asked.

  “Late May. Why?” Danny responded.

  “It says here that May 23 is also sacred to Vulcan.”

  “So I guess that’s why he chose it as his starting date. If there was a way to determine exactly when Fugate died I’m sure we’d find out it was the 23. It had to be.” Danny paused and rubbed his chin with his fingers. “Do you think he’ll send this one to the media too, like he sent the last one to Jennifer?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jack said. “Why?”

  “Because people are already in a state around here since Jennifer’s murder, not to mention the Pioneer Park and Golden Days fires. The whole city is one millisecond away from being in a full-fledged panic. People can’t figure out what’s going on and if this gets out things are only going to get worse. It will be like a city under siege.”

  “But that’s almost what it is, isn’t it? If this lunatic plans to set fires all over the place, we will be under siege.” Tessa shook her head. “Would it be better if it did get out so people have some warning? Maybe we should even try to evacuate the city.”

  Jack held up his hands. “Hold the phone. We don’t have to do anything that drastic yet. We’ve still got time to catch this bastard.” He turned towards Danny. “Did you say you found a new lead you were working on this morning?”

  “Yeah. A guy named Jamie Dzubenko whose family was killed in a suspicious fire back in the 1990s. I talked to the investigator at the time and he thought Jamie set the fire but couldn’t prove it.”

  “Who was the investigator?”

  “Frank Wainscott.”

  “I knew him. Great cop.”

  “I trusted his instincts when I talked to him this morning. I think it’s worth looking into this guy and seeing what he’s been up to since.”

  “Good. Then you two get to it. This son of a bitch can’t stay anonymous forever. I’m taking this letter down to the forensics team.”

  “We’ll be in touch as soon as we talk to Dzubenko,” Danny said.

  Danny followed Tessa outside to his car. Steam rose from the heat of the blacktop as it baked in the mid-afternoon sun.

  ****

  Chapter 37

  Jamie sat on his couch with his laptop and browsed the local news sites for the latest on his activities. It appeared that the police had not shared his latest letter with the media and, as he had decided not to send them more communication himself, he felt sure that his plans for Vulcanalia were still known only to him. And to whichever police officers had read his letter and looked up the meaning of the word.

  He glanced out his window at the large backyard he shared with his fellow tenant, the man who lived on the top floor of the house while Jamie lived on the bottom. Jamie had been so glad to find the house which was now two apartments. He wouldn’t have been able to stand living in a large complex with all the noise that comes with families and children and pets. He loved the quiet ranch style house with grey siding and a two car garage that he and his upstairs neighbor shared.

  Jamie couldn't remember ever feeling better than he did this summer. He continued to build up his strength with vitamins and exercise and he knew he was going to be prepared for Vulcanalia. He'd pull it off; there was no question about that. And his success throughout the summer was giving him more emotional strength than he'd ever known was possible. He supposed that was understandable considering he was fulfilling his destiny. The destiny that his parents had tried to deny him.

  His contentment turned to irritation and surprise as he heard tires on the gravel driveway next to the house. No one ever visited here. Perhaps his neighbor was expecting company. But as far as Jamie knew, the neighbor was not even home as he always worked a regular nine to five job. Jamie walked to the other side of his living room and looked out the window that faced the drive. His nostrils flared with a rush of anger that quickly replaced his irritation. It was obvious to anyone with even half a brain that the tall white man and the small black woman who were getting out of their car and coming to his door were cops.

  For a second, his anger turned to fear and he wondered if these were the cops who had read his letter. But they couldn’t have figured out his identity from that. He’d made sure of that. There was no point in conjuring up nightmare scenarios. Especially when he had complete confidence in his abilities and he knew he hadn’t screwed up. He couldn’t imagine why these cops had turned up at his door but it had to be a coincidence.

  The doorbell rang and Jamie quickly closed his laptop and set it on his desk before walking to answer the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Dzubenko?” the woman asked.

  “Yes, that
’s me.”

  “I’m Detective Tessa Washington and this is my partner Detective Danny Fitzpatrick.” Both the man and the woman flashed their badges. “Fairbanks PD. Can we talk to you?”

  “What about?”

  This time the man answered. “We’re investigating the fire murders that have gone on this summer. We’re hoping you may have some information that could help us.”

  Jamie clutched the doorknob to keep his hand steady. “I can’t imagine what information I could have.”

  The male detective wedged his foot against Jamie’s door, effectively blocking any effort Jamie might make to close it.

  “We tried to find you at work but were told you’re working the night shift tonight,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve got things you need to do before you go to work. We won’t take up too much of your time.”

  Jamie stepped back from the door and allowed the two cops inside. “Of course. Please come in.” He closed the door and walked into his living room. “Please have a seat and make yourselves comfortable.”

  He sat down in the wing chair across from his couch, where the two detectives were now seated. “What can I help you with?”

  “We’re aware that your family was killed in a fire when you were young,” the woman said. “And we’re terribly sorry to have to bring up such a tragedy. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through.”

  Jamie cleared his throat and tried his best to look pained. “Well, yes, it was terrible, of course. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of them all.”

  Jamie knew that was the sort of thing people said when they were grieving. At least he hoped it was.

  “We’re sorry for your loss,” the male detective said. “The house burned down too, isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes, yes it is.” Jamie paused and cleared his throat again. “May I ask what this has to do with your investigation? You must know how hard it is for me to talk about what happened to my family.”

  The man answered again. Jamie wished he could remember both of their names. What was his name again? Fitzpatrick?

  “I’m sure it is and, again, we’re terribly sorry. But the records from that fire indicate that no cause was ever found and the origins were listed as suspicious. We’re looking into old fires that share traits with the cases we’re investigating now.”

  “What traits could my family’s case possibly share with what’s happening now? My family died in 1996.”

  “Of course,” the woman said. “But it’s as Detective Fitzpatrick said. The origins of the fire that killed your family were listed as suspicious and the cause was unknown.”

  Jamie let out a breath. “Okay. But I really don’t see how I can help you…”

  “We know you were only 12 years old when this happened,” Fitzpatrick said. “And you weren’t able to provide the police with any information at that time. But I’m wondering if now, looking back on it, it’s possible you can remember anything that could have been unusual in the time leading up to the fire. Anyone new involved with your family? Did your parents make any big purchases that were delivered to your home? Any work done in the house so that your parents had workmen in and out?”

  Jamie pretended to search his memory before solemnly shaking his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t remember anything like that.”

  “Did your parents seem edgy or upset at all? Maybe stressed over something you couldn’t have understood at that time.”

  “No,” Jamie said sharply. “Honestly, detectives, I can’t see what good can come out of making me relive this. I don’t have anything to tell you now that I didn’t already tell the detectives back then.”

  Fitzpatrick held up a hand. “I’m sorry, really, I am. This is a long shot but you have to understand, we’re kind of desperate here. People are dying and we don’t know why.”

  “I’d be happy to help you if I could.”

  The woman spoke up. “Did you know Max Fugate, Mr. Dzubenko?”

  “Max Fugate? Is that the doctor who was killed?”

  “Yes. Did you know him?”

  “No. Why?”

  “You both worked at the hospital. We thought you may have known each other, that’s all.”

  Jamie shrugged. “It’s a big hospital. I remember seeing him in the hallways and saying hello, but nothing beyond that. I only knew who he was because he was such a good surgeon. I’m sure he had no idea who I was.”

  The woman nodded. “Well, we knew it was a longshot.”

  To Jamie’s relief, both detectives stood up from the couch. The woman fished in her purse and handed him a business card.

  “Mr. Dzubenko, thank you so much for talking with us. We are sorry to have brought up such difficult memories for you. If you happen to think of anything that could help us, you’ve got my number there.”

  “Of course. I really do wish I could help. It’s so terrible what’s been happening.”

  “Yes it is. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  Jamie watched the two detectives’ backs through his window as they returned to their car. Anger rose in his throat as they got inside the car and chattered to each other. He wondered what game they were playing. Surely their reason for contacting him couldn’t possibly be valid. And what cops would ever admit they were desperate to find something to go on in their investigation?

  But there was no way they could be on to him. No one would believe in his magic, let alone be able to figure it out. Still, these cops had pissed him off and he didn’t need the aggravation. He didn’t need anything that took away from his emotional strength and stamina when it was so important to his efforts.

  Maybe he had been wrong to only send his Vulcanlia plans to the police. He should let the whole city know what was coming and how powerless the police were to stop it. Jamie felt his anger dissipate and his previous calmness return to him. Why had he let the police upset him? It would be easy enough to get them off his back and make them so preoccupied they’d never have time to worry about decades-old fires. Jamie smiled as he imagined the consequences of what he was about to do. He’d send the police department into a tailspin.

  ****

  Chapter 38

  “So what did you think of him?” Danny asked as he juggled steering his car and lighting a cigarette. He opened his window and let the smoke escape out of the car.

  Tessa opened her own window, grimacing at the hot air that greeted her. “Damn when are we going to get a break from this heat?”

  “I'm thinking September is the best we can hope for at this point. This feels more like a Chicago summer all the time.”

  “You know, I think I liked you better when drinking was your vice,” Tessa said, waving her hand in front of her face in a futile attempt to banish the smoke. “This smoking has to stop. Or at least it has to stop when I'm in the car with you.”

  Danny took a final long drag on his cigarette and stamped it out in the ashtray underneath the car stereo. “Fine,” he said. “I won't torture you. Now can we talk about Jamie Dzubenko?”

  Tessa gratefully closed her window and reached over to turn up the air conditioning. She angled all of the vents she could reach in her direction.

  “I think there's definitely something off with him” she said. “I can see why Frank Wainscott thought he started that fire himself.”

  Danny angled the air conditioning vents back towards his own seat. “Yeah. It felt like he was just saying what he thinks people say about a tragedy. His affect was flat and I didn't see a single emotion cross his face the whole time we were talking to him.”

  “He's a cold fish, no doubt about that.”

  “You did get a rise out of him by bringing up Max Fugate though.”

  “I thought so too. He was clearly surprised by that.”

  Danny turned left on Cushman Street and headed towards the police station. “Of course, we still don't have a damn thing on him.”

  “No. But at least we know we got under his skin a bit. Who knows, maybe if he is our guy and w
e rattled him he'll screw up.”

  “That would be nice. But we both know it's wishful thinking. Did you notice anything interesting about his apartment?”

  Tessa shrugged. “It was obviously very tidy. And he had what looked like a stockpile of vitamins in his kitchen, did you see those?”

  “Those bottles lined up in rows along the counter? Yeah. I guess he's a health nut.”

  “Or he's doing some sort of fitness regimen. Maybe training or building up his strength and going overboard on vitamins?”

  “Could be,” Danny said. “And if he's a runner himself that could be how he knew Max Fugate's pattern of jogging at Griffin Park. That might be something worth exploring more.”

  He turned into the station parking lot and pulled into a spot close to the door. He kept the car running, wanting to sit in the air conditioning as long as possible. Tessa made no move to get out of the car.

  “Say he is our guy,” she said. “How the hell is he doing this? How is he starting these fires?”

  Danny flirted with the notion of telling her what he really believed but quickly shut that idea down. “I'm gonna go over those magic books and websites with a fine-toothed comb and see how magicians do it. You said it yourself, it's an illusion. Granted, this guy's got Houdini beat all to hell if he's pulling something like this off, but I don't know where else to look right now.”

  Tessa stared at the door of the station and willed herself to get out of the car and into the heat. Her will wasn’t strong enough. “You know, I actually think it's getting hotter every damn day. It's like we're living in hell here.”

  “Unfortunately I don’t think we’re far from our city turning into a literal hell if we can't find our friendly neighborhood arsonist and stop him. Should we go inside and see what Jack has managed to find out about the latest letter?”

  “Want to bet his answer will be not a damn thing?”

  “I'd say that's a safe bet. But come on, we can't put it off any longer.”

  Danny turned off the ignition and the two detectives stepped out into the heat.