Smoke and Ashes, Emily Slate FBI Mystery Series - Book 3
When FBI Agent Emily Slate discovers a series of fires are being used to cover up the murder of firefighters, she’ll need all her skills as an investigator to flush out the killer.
A string of arson cases brings Emily to the historic city of Charleston right as she’s in the middle of trying to find the woman who killed her husband. Her personal investigation will have to wait, however, because the local community is on edge, having already lost two firefighters in these tragedies.
But before she can get very far, more blazes erupt throughout the city, causing a panic within the ranks. In each one, the victim is burned alive, from both the inside and out. And at each scene, a strange symbol remains in the rubble, leaving Emily to believe they’re working with a sick and twisted individual who has their sights set on something even bigger.
With the number of fires increasing by the day, and a city in panic, Emily must race against the clock to uncover the killer before they burn the entire city down with their rage.
I’m just going to say this is my current new favorite series. I can’t think of anything I disliked about it. It’s very well written and it just keeps pulling you right along. If you like a good mystery fiction and intelligent female protagonists I recommend this read.
~D Delacoeur, Amazon
- Another great Emily Slate read that kept me in the edge of my seat! I couldn’t put it down once I started reading. I had to finish. The plot was great. Twist and turns that I never saw coming.
~Diane V, Amazon
“Given these factors, you can clearly see how the supply along this axis defines the demand here, along this one.”
Leon Spencer was doing everything in his power to stay awake, but he was fighting a losing battle. These evening classes after work had been a good idea at first, but four concentrated hours of nothing but economic theory two nights a week had begun to wear thin. These, combined with the course work from his other evening classes were pushing him to the limit.
He hoped taking night classes would be a new start, something to help him put the past few years…especially the past few months behind him. Plus, if he ever wanted a new career and out of his current job, he needed these classes so he could finally get that GED.
It wasn’t that Leon was stupid, or lazy. He just hadn’t finished school along with most other people his age. He’d been forced to drop out to take care of his ailing mother. Not only had he become her caregiver, but they’d needed money which meant he’d needed a job. He’d bounced around a while until he’d found most of what was open to him were jobs that required a lot of physical labor. Eventually, he figured if he was going to be out working his hands to the bone, he might as well help people while he was at it.
Leon had always been a strong kid. So when he’d applied to be a volunteer firefighter in his twenties, he’d been able to impress his instructors with how fast he could be, even carrying forty pounds on his back. It hadn’t taken him long to go full-time, and it was a job he loved every day. It was a hell of a lot better than loading trucks or carrying steel around.
But after a while the job had begun to take its toll. His knees were beginning to give out and his back ached most of the day. Nearly fifteen years of lugging hoses and climbing stairs would do that to a person. He wanted one of those cushy jobs where you could sit on your ass and get paid for it. But for that, he needed to meet certain basic requirements. The captain had said he knew someone who could get Leon a nice, quiet office job, he just needed his high school diploma first. It was the least he could do for so many years of great service. Which meant the first step to Leon’s new life was only a few short weeks away.
If he could stay awake, that is.
“That’s about all for tonight,” the teacher said, checking his watch. “Make sure you review chapters fourteen through sixteen and prepare your reports for Wednesday night. Remember, the report will count for twenty percent of your overall grade.”
Twenty percent? How had he missed that? It meant Leon would be pulling a few more late nights in order to make sure his was up to snuff. He couldn’t afford to mess something like that up; he needed a C or better in this class.
Leon gathered his book and laptop together, tucking them into his side bag.
“Spencer?”
Leon looked up to find the teacher staring pointedly in his direction. “Yeah, teach?”
“Can I see you a second?”
Some of the other students shot him furtive looks as they exited. Most were his age or older, all of them at different stages in life, working for the same goal. He wondered how many of them were also hoping to improve their career prospects.
Leon shuffled up to the front. “What’s up?”
“I’ve noticed you’ve been having a hard time staying awake,” the teacher said, shuffling his own papers on his desk.
Here we go. Another dressing down.
“Sorry, it’s my job. We pull these long shifts and—”
The teacher held up his hand. Leon noticed his fingernails were expertly manicured. Not someone who worked with his hands. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small capsule. “Next time, give this a try.”
Leon took the small bottle from him, quirking his nose at the label. “Four-hour energy?”
“Concentrated caffeine,” the teacher replied. “I used to have the same problem. Take one about fifteen minutes before class begins. They’ll get you through.”
Leon gave him a small smile. At least the teacher was trying. “Thanks. ‘preciate it.”
“See you on Wednesday.”
Leon nodded and headed out. The teacher was nice enough, but he could tell the man was just here to go through the motions. Maybe he was trying to build up his teaching hours so he could get a better job too. Leon couldn’t imagine anyone would want to stay around and teach community college economics if they didn’t have to.
After a quick stop to the bathroom—damn prostate issues, he thought this stuff wasn’t supposed to happen until he was in his fifties—Leon headed out of the multi-story brick building to the adjoining parking lot. It was already past ten and it looked like he had a long night ahead of him reviewing his economics report.
When he reached the parking area, Leon noticed there was only one other car still in the lot other than his 2002 Toyota Tacoma. The car had its hood up and the owner was bent over in the engine, working on something.
Leon smiled. If there was one thing he knew, it was cars. He stopped a moment to toss his bag into his truck before heading across the lot to the vehicle.
It was a newer car, probably within the past five years, and it had a dark gray paintjob. He hoped he could help figure out the problem; these new cars were so fancy nowadays you needed a computer just to figure out what was wrong. Still, it was his job as a public servant to offer help if he could.
“Ho there,” he called out. “Trouble?”
The figure turned, looking over his shoulder. Leon could tell he had dark hair that fell in his eyes and was probably a good five or ten years younger than Leon. Definitely another student though, but he must have been in a different class as Leon didn’t recognize his face.
“Oh, hey,” the guy extricated himself from under the hood. “Yeah, I don’t know what happened. Wouldn’t start. I was trying to figure out the problem before calling the towing company. Don’t really have the money for that, you know?”
“I hear that,” Leon said, peering into the engine as he got close. He didn’t see any immediate signs of trouble. Though there was something familiar about the guy that he just couldn’t put his finger on. “Do I know you?”
The other man shook his head. “I don’t think so. You taking night classes?” He made a motion to the building behind them.
“Economics. You?”
“Public speaking,” the man said, pushing the dark hair out of his eyes. It stayed back for only a second before falling back into place. “It’s brutal.”
“I’m sure you’ll make it through. Has to be more interesting than learning about the law of demand.”
The guy gave him an easygoing chuckle. “Maybe. You have any experience with this sort of thing?” he indicated the car.
Leon peered into the engine again. “Got a light?” the shadows from his and the other man’s body were blocking a lot of the light coming from the parking lot overheads.
“Sure.” He pulled out a cell phone and shone the flashlight from there into the engine itself.
“Perfect, hold it right there,” Leon said as he inspected the components. All the belts were tight, caps were in place, nothing seemed to be rattling around. The entire engine was still cold, which meant he hadn’t even been able to start it at all. Leon reached in, feeling for anything that might have come apart while driving, but nothing indicated a problem.
“Hey, can you turn it over for me? I don’t—”
The next thing Leon knew, he was laying on the ground, his head pounding. He had just enough time to look up to see the man standing over him, a tire iron in his hand before he brought it down on Leon’s head.
Everything went black.
* * *
Leon’s eyes fluttered at the familiar smell, though he was so out of it, the significance of the aroma didn’t immediately register. All he knew was he had the worst headache of his life and his arms and legs were sore as hell. What had happened?
“Oh good, you’re awake,” a voice said. It was a voice he thought he recognized, though he couldn’t be sure. “Thought I might have been a little too rough with ya.”
He knew that voice. The man. From the parking lot. He’d been helping him with his car. “Wha—” Leon muttered. As soon as he opened his mouth he tasted the sharp tang of blood, only to realize it was running down his face. The man had first struck him from behind, surprised him. Leon tried to wipe the blood from his face, maybe it wasn’t too bad. Only he couldn’t move his arm. Either of them. Or his legs.
Leon looked down in terror as he realized he’d been strung up like some kind of sacrifice. He was against a wooden wall made up of old slats, while his arms were spread wide, each of them tied to opposite sides of the wall. His legs were similarly bound in such a way that he felt like the living version of the Vitruvian man.
“Lemme…lemme…” he found he was having trouble forming words, much less get them out.
The man came closer, out of the darkness so Leon could see him plainly. He pushed his dark, greasy hair out of his face again, though there was a smile across his lips. Leon still couldn’t place where he’d seen the man before…but he was so familiar. “Let you go? I assume?”
Leon nodded.
“Afraid it’s not going to be that easy for you,” the man replied. “See, Leo, ol’ buddy, you did a bad, bad thing.”
How does he know my name? He might not be able to enunciate clearly, but his brain still worked, at least for the moment. “Wha…”
The man’s features darkened, and his hair fell back in his eyes again. His entire body seemed to radiate with rage. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you did. Don’t play innocent with me!”
All of a sudden Leon recognized that voice. And it wasn’t because the man was a student. “I…I’m sorry…” he squeaked out. He pulled at his restraints. There had to be some way out of this. Some way he could explain what happened.
“It’s a little too late for sorry, don’t you think, Leo?” the man said, approaching him. He had a small cannister in his hand. “But don’t worry, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”
“N—no,” Leon said. This couldn’t be happening. He was supposed to be turning everything around. He was supposed to be starting over. He couldn’t let things end this way.
“Y—yes,” the man said, doing a poor job of imitating him. “Now open up.”
In one swift move, the man shoved something metal in between Leon’s lips, forcing them open. Too late he realized it was a funnel, like the kind you use to change the oil in your car. He forced Leon’s head back, so it was pressed hard against the wooden slats, then lifted the container in his other hand, tipping it into the funnel.
What felt like white-hot fire poured down Leon’s throat. At first he was choking due to the fumes of whatever toxic substance was being forced into his stomach. He tried to retch, but the man held firm, continuing to pour. Finally, he ripped the funnel and container away, only to splash the remainder of the container’s contents on Leon’s body. Despite the fact he was choking on the substance, he had enough wherewithal to realize what the man had poured down his throat and covered him in: turpentine.
“Time to burn, Leo,” the man said, lighting a match. “Tell the devil I said hi.” The last thing Leon Spencer felt as he choked on the turpentine was his entire body igniting in a ball of flames.
Books in The Emily Slate FBI Mystery Series
