"Two buses are on the way," Jergens said. "We're going to put them in the elementary school down the street until we can set up a shelter."
"We'll need statements from everyone. I want to know if there was anybody around here that anybody didn't know." She shot them a hard smile. "Thanks. I appreciate it. So will Roger Burnettc." She looked up when the officers moved off to follow her orders. "We need to get to Brooke. Maybe she can tell us something."
"Hunter and Mahoney pulled them out."
She shot him a look of disbelief, then started toward the trucks at a run. "They went in again! There are four companies here. Why Mahoney and Hunter for God's sake?"
He remembered the look of honest affection she'd given Hunter at the Hill fire. A nasty voice whispered in his ear, but Reed dismissed it. Whatever had happened between Mia and Hunter in the past, Reed had been the one to leave her bed tonight.
"They wanted to go in. After pulling corpses, it really makes you feel good to pull out a live person. The other chief understood that and let Larry's guys go in for the rescue."
"Like Howard and Brooks let me have DuPree."
"Yeah. Just like that."
Hunter and Mahoney sat on the back of the truck. Both looked shell-shocked.
Mia put her hand on Hunter's shoulder. "David. Are you two all right?"
Hunter nodded, his eyes flat. "Fine," he murmured.
Mahoney grimaced. "Yeah. Sure. We're just fine." But the sarcastic words were filled with pain. He closed his eyes. "I really hate this guy."
"What happened?" Reed asked quietly. "Tell us everything you saw."
"We went in the front," Mahoney began. "He'd stared a fire there, too, but the 186 knocked it down. Smoke was heavy in Adler's apartment, but the stove was in place."
"Where did you find them?" Mia asked.
"In the back bedroom." Mahoney shook his head, cleared his throat. "The bed was in flames, all the walls, carpet, everything." His voice broke. "There were two women in the room. One was on the floor. I picked her up and started out. Called for backup for Hunter. When I got her out, the EMT.s said she was already dead. She was wearing flame retar-dant pajamas, so her body wasn't burned so badly, but her face and hands were. She'd been stabbed. Ripped open." He pursed his lips and turned away.
"And the second woman?" Reed asked quietly.
Hunter swallowed. "She was tied to the bed. Nude. Her body was on fire. I grabbed a blanket and rolled her up in it. Her legs were broken. Bent at angles."
Mia suddenly stiffened, her eyes swerving to the road where a woman with a blond braid approached. Two officers turned her away. "Goddammit."
Carmichael again. "She was following you," Reed commented and her eyes flashed up to his. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was. Carmichael had been waiting outside her apartment. She'd seen Reed leave just before
Mia had. That he'd spent the night would be all over the front page. Shit.
But Mia's attention was already back to Hunter. "What happened next, David?"
"I had to cut the ropes to get her out of there. But I didn't touch anything else. I picked her up and carried her out. She was burned." His jaw trembled and he clenched it. "Badly. The EMTs weren't sure if she'd make it."
Mia squeezed Hunter's hand. "If she does, it will be because of the two of you. You have to hold on to that, David." She let go and looked up. "I have to talk to Brooke."
Reed looked up at the building. The fire was nearly out. "I'll stay here and go in as soon as I can. Foster and Ben should be here any minute. Can you call Jack?"
"Yeah." She kicked at some gravel at her feet. "Dammit, we missed him again."
Thursday, November 30, 4:50 a.m.
"I'm Detective Mitchell. You just took in a Brooke Adler. Rape and burn victim."
The ER nurse shook her head. "You can't see her."
"I have to talk to her. She's the only one who's seen a killer. She's his fourth victim."
"I wish I could help you, Detective, but I can't let you see her. She's sedated."
A doctor walked up, brows crunched. "She's heavily sedated, but somehow still lucid enough to mutter. She has third degree burns over ninety percent of her body. If I thought she'd survive, I'd make you wait. Hurry. We were just about to intubate."
Mia fell into stride beside the doctor. "We need to do a rape kit."
"Already noted on my chart. She looks bad, Detective."
"I saw his first two victims in the morgue. Doctor. They looked bad."
"Just tryin' to prepare you." He handed her a mask and surgical drape. "After you."
Mia came to stumbling halt. Acid rose to burn her throat, choke her air. Dear God, was all she could think for the first five seconds. "Oh, sweet Christ."
"1 tried to tell you," the doctor murmured. "Two minutes. No more."
The nurse standing at Brooke's side glared. "What's she doing here?"
"She's the bad cop," the doctor said blandly. "Let her through."
Mia shot him a sharp look. "What?"
He shrugged. "That's what she kept calling you. The bad cop."
"She's muttering something about 'ten,'" the nurse said.
"Like the number?"
"Yes."
"Hey, Brooke, it's me, Detective Mitchell."
Brooke's eyes opened, and Mia saw wild fear and excruciating pain. "Ten."
Mia lifted her hand, but there was no place to touch her. "Who did this, Brooke?"
"Count to ten," Brooke whispered. She moaned in agony and Mia's heart clenched.
"Brooke, tell me who did this. Was it someone at Hope Center? Was it Bixby?"
"Go to hell."
Mia flinched. The woman had been afraid to talk to them. They'd forced her to speak, she and Reed. I'll have to live with that. And though she knew this wasn't her fault, she understood Brooke's anger. "I'm so sorry, Brooke. But I need your help."
"Count to ten." She labored for a breath and machines started beeping.
"Pressure's dropping," the nurse said with grim urgency. "Oxygen levels dropping."
"Push one amp of epi," the doctor commanded, "and start an epinephrine drip. Get ready to intubate. Detective, you have to leave."
"No." Brooke struggled, pathetically. "Count to ten. Go to hell."
The nurse was injecting a syringe into Brooke's IV. "Get out, Detective."
"One more minute." Mia leaned closer. "Was it Bixby? Thompson? Secrest?"
The doctor leaned over Mia with a growl. "Detective, move." Mia backed away, helpless, horrified, while the doctor and nurse battled for Brooke's life.
Thirty grueling, endless minutes later, the doctor stepped back. His shoulders sagged. "I'm calling it. Time of death oh-five-hundred twenty-five hours."
There had to be a word for what churned inside her. But that word wouldn't come. Mia lifted her eyes to the doctor's weary gaze. "I don't know what to say."
The doctor's mouth tightened. "Say you'll catch who did this."
Roger Burnette had demanded it for Caitlin. Dana had demanded it for Penny Hill. "We will. We have to. He's killed four women. Thank you, for doing what you could."
Grimly he nodded. "I'm sorry."
"So am I." She got to the door and stopped. Forced herself turn around and look at Brooke Adler one more time. Then crossed herself and backed out of the room.
Thursday, November 30, 5:45 a.m.
The child watched from his hiding place. He was outside again. He didn't know what the man buried, but he knew it had to be very, very bad. Because he was very bad. Doesn't anybody else know? Am I the only one that sees how bad he really is?