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he called and told her they were still on for the night she assumed he had the all clear. Judging from his phone conversation, he did not have the all clear.
    “I understand. I’ll be there shortly.” He sighed as he hung up the phone. “Dylan’s wife just went into labor and he called in to take off, so they need me tonight. I’m sorry, Eve. I am really sorry.”
    She patted his arm. “It’s okay. I understand; really I do. Maybe next time.”
    “I get off early tomorrow, can we do dinner?”
    “Sure,” she pulled him in for a hug. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She tucked herself back inside the room after he left. “Well, it wasn’t a complete waste,” she looked at her reflection in the mirror. “At least he had a chance to see you looking glam,” she mumbled. She slapped her hand to her forehead. “Eve,” she scolded herself. “You have to work tomorrow.” She let out a frustrated, muffled yell. Maybe she could pull out early too, or at least meet him for dinner before heading back to the office. Mitch had said he wanted her to get some more shots of the Espanola fire that, after three months, was still burning. Fortunately the fire was about ninety-five percent contained and if they did actually get hit by the coming hurricane it should take care of the fire issue—maybe, maybe not. Once she took the photos Mitch wanted her to get them to him ASAP so that he could make sure the pictures and his article meshed well together. In other words, he didn’t want her to go back to the hotel to shower the stench of forest fire off of her first.
    She would work it out. There was no way she was going to miss yet another date with Adam. At least she hoped she wasn’t going to.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    H e didn’t like this; he didn’t like it at all. His fires were important, but instead of talking about his fires they were talking about some stupid bomb at a residential complex. Worse, they thought he would stoop to something as inartistic as bomb making. His fires were art, and if they couldn’t see that then he would just have to create more art to prove it to them. They should have appreciated him when they had the chance, now he was going to make sure they paid for it.
    The media cared more about the story when homes were damaged; well then he’d start some more fires. Maybe some of those half million dollar condos should go up in flames. Wouldn’t that be pretty? Watching the buildings burn by the inter-costal water channel—he could see it now, pretty orange flames leaping up to heaven. Yes, it would be a site. “But I won’t abandon you,” he looked at the picture she had taken of the Espanola fire. She understood his work. One artist to another, she could see the beauty—he knew that because she had captured it in her photographs. He would start another fire for her to capture, to photograph and preserve forever. They thought they had Espanola under control; he would have to show them differently.
    He didn’t care what happened to the firefighters. In fact, he wanted them dead—all of them, but he couldn’t lose her. “You’re doing too good of a job sharing my soul with the world,” he grinned. “I can’t lose you. You understand me.” He traced his index finger over a picture of the burning trees. She hadn’t put the firefighters in the image. That was good because they didn’t deserve to be there. He didn’t want them there. He was so much better than them, and he was going to prove it to them.
    “Eve,” he whispered. “I’ll paint you a pretty picture; one that will burn bright. No fireman will put it out, now wouldn’t that be nice—” He laughed loud and long. His final gift to the bastard firemen would be one magnificent site, and she, Eve McGregor, would show the world.

    “Watch it burn,” he said. “Watch it all burn.”

 
    Chapter Four
     
     
    E ve had just changed into her night clothes when her room phone rang. It was either Mitch or