Page 112 of Serial Burn

“Right. Thanks.”

“Of course. You know where to find me if you need anything else.”

“Yes, actually. One more question, please. What about her brother, Derek Morgan? What do you know about him?”

“Just that he’s a professor at Lake City University. Oh, and he works at a pool supply company. Guess teaching at the university doesn’t cover all the bills. I will say we have quite a few people in the neighborhood who use the company he works for and seem to be happy with the service. That’s really all I know. Samantha doesn’t talk about him much, and the most interaction I’ve had with him is to wave if I pass him coming or going.”

“Pool supply company, huh?” Nathan said. He glanced at Andrew. “Interesting.”

“Very,” Andrew said. “Can you tell us where that company is located?”

“I don’t have a clue. You can check with Carl Baxter on the corner. I think he uses him.”

“Do you know if Mr. Baxter’s home or does he work?”

“He works for the post office.”

“Right. We’ll track him down. Thanks again.”

They tried the Baxter home just on the off chance the man was home, but he wasn’t, so fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the Adventure Sanctuary Childcare. Interesting name, but he supposed it was intended to convey something ... expensive. He could only hope the care lived up to the ideal.

Once out of the car, he checked in with Lindsay. “Any luck tracking Derek Morgan down?”

“Not yet. He’s off the radar at the moment, but he was at Brad’s funeral. The person I spoke to said his chemistry class this afternoon was canceled.”

“Chemistry class? I thought he taught math.”

“Yeah, he does. Two math classes and two chemistry classes.”

“Okay, that’s interesting. Thanks. Let me know when you track him down.”

“You know I will.”

He hung up and looked at his partner. “You hear that? Morgan teaches chemistry.”

“Well, he’d certainly know how to mix together those two simple chemicals to ignite a few fires then, wouldn’t he?”

“So he didn’t need the sister.”

“Maybe not, butwemight if we’re going to find him.”

He buzzed the door and the speaker on the wall crackled. “Yes?” the voice on the other side asked. “May I help you?”

“Special Agents Carlisle and Ross. Could we possibly come in and speak to you?” He and Andrew held their badges where she could see them.

“Um. Yes, all right. I just need to get the director. Can you wait just a moment, please?”

“Sure thing.”Hurry up, hurry up. God, please be with Jesslyn. Protect her. Keep her safe. Let her know help is coming. Please let it be coming.

A few moments later, a voice said, “Hello, gentlemen. I’m Cecelia Brown, the director. Badges again, please?”

They complied. The door buzzed, then opened. A woman in her late fifties who had a style that reminded Nathan of Jesslyn’s aunt Carol peered at them. Her short salt-and-pepper hair was styled in a classy bob, and she wore comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved denim shirt with the cuffs rolled at the wrists. Stylish and functional enough to get on the floor with children if necessary.

After handshakes, she motioned them to follow her into a conference room just off the side of the main entrance. “Sorry for all of the hoops, but I can’t be too careful with the children here.”

“We completely understand and are glad to see it,” Andrew said.

She motioned to the chairs. “Have a seat.”

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