Bryce picked up on the third ring. “Gideon.”
“Bryce, how are you?” Gideon asked as he leaned forward at his desk.
“Can’t complain. What’s up? Not like you to call on a holiday weekend without a good reason.”
Gideon uncapped his pen and drew a #1 at the top of the yellow pad. He circled it once. “Did you hear about the fire we had on Saturday?”
“I did,” he said. “I also understand your newest resident is a convicted arsonist.”
“That’s correct.” He circled the number a couple more times. “I have a few questions that may seem off base, but bear with me.”
“Have at it.”
“Have you had any significant fires in your area in the last few years?” Gideon asked.
“You mean while Elijah Weston was incarcerated?”
Gideon sat back and wondered what the hell path he had set out on. “That’s correct.”
Bryce was silent a moment. “You don’t think Elijah Weston is responsible for your fire?”
“He’s on my radar, that’s for damn sure.”
“Fair enough. Let me get to my computer. Hang on.”
“Got all the time.”
In the background, a door opened and closed, and a light switch clicked. “Here we go,” Bryce said. “We had a warehouse fire eighteen months ago in Helena. The structure burned to the ground.”
“Cause of the fire?” He jotted down the incident by the number one.
“Electrical. No fatalities, but the damage and losses totaled more than a million dollars. That’s all the structural fires we’ve had recently. In 2018, there were four dumpster fires in Bozeman. No real property damage sustained in those events, beyond the dumpsters.”
Gideon made a notation. “Any rural fires?”
“Funny you should mention that. Statistics show a thirty percent increase in brush fires. The causes range from unmonitored campfires to electrical line failure.”
“How many were undetermined?”
“Of the seventy-four fires reported, sixty-two weren’t resolved.”
“Where were they?”
“I would have to get back to you on that one. I just have overall statistical data.”
“I’d appreciate the locations.”
“Sure. What are you going after, Gideon?”
He ran his hand over the top of his head. “Just a hunch.”
More computer keys clicked at a slow, steady pace. “Okay, I missed two Butte house fires in 2018. One was caused by a Christmas tree, and the other one was ruled arson.”
“Do you know how the arson fire started?”
“Plastic jug filled with gasoline and a rag. No arrests.”
In 2018, Gideon had just signed divorce papers, and Helen and Kyle had moved out of their home. If there was a year that he would have happily erased, it was 2018.
“What was the cause of your beauty shop fire?” Bryce asked.
“Plastic jug filled with gasoline.”
The silence grew heavy. “All the materials are easy to get, and it’s impossible to trace the source.”
“Very true,” Gideon said.
“Want me to poke around?” Bryce offered.
“I’ve taken up enough of your time on a holiday weekend.”
“It’s a holiday, and if I knew how to have fun, I would not be sitting around,” Bryce joked.
“I appreciate this.”
“No worries. I’ll call if I find something.”
Gideon kept digging in the surrounding states of Wyoming and Idaho. He located several fires on the Wyoming and Montana border, and within a half hour, Bryce had texted him the locations of all the urban and rural fires.
Most of these incidents had been small and involved dumpsters, trash cans, and rubbish piles. In the rural areas, the brush fires had each destroyed less than an acre of woodland. Several had mysteriously extinguished themselves, which many had reported as minor miracles.
As he thumbed through the yellow notepad, he realized he needed to map out the fires. The only large map he had was the one Kyle had used for a Montana history project two years ago. He found it rolled up in a closet, and he flattened it out and pinned it to his wall.
He did not have pushpins to indicate locations, so he cut Post-it notes into small strips and began to mark each fire’s location. Green indicated rural fires, and purple denoted urban fires. It took more than an hour to geo mark all the events, but by the time he was finished, he could see distinct patterns.
Near Helena in 2018–19 was the large warehouse fire, and also dozens of rural fires in the surrounding counties in the months leading up to the fire. In 2016–17, several rural fires near Bozeman had ended up burning a few residences. And in 2019–20, a similar cluster had appeared in the Missoula area.
As Gideon stood back, staring at his makeshift geo-profiling system, he reached for his coffee, discovered it was cold, and went into his kitchen to make a fresh pot.
“He’s practicing. Building up his nerve in the country before coming into town,” he said to himself.
And if these fires had been started by the same man, then that definitely ruled out Elijah. No way he could have done any of them.
He took a picture of the map and prepared to text it to Joan. He paused. He knew his desire to share his findings with Joan was due to fatigue. Normally, he would not have considered it. If he could get a couple of hours of sleep, he would think more clearly. He deleted the text.
He sat on the couch, and the softness immediately coaxed him back. As he put his feet up, he glanced at his watch, noted the time. He just wanted to close his eyes and steal a few minutes of rest. The instant he did, his mind tripped back in time to
