Page 35 of Close Up

She turned on her heel and sprinted into the front hall. He followed hard behind her with Rex. At the door Vivian paused to yank open the coat closet. She grabbed a trench coat, slung the leather strap of a camera over her shoulder, and seized a metal lockbox and a portfolio case.

Nick took the portfolio case and got the front door open. Rex dashed outside, barking furiously. Vivian was right behind him. Nick raced after them, gun in hand.

Lights came on in the cottage across the street. The front door slammed open.

“Call the fire department,” Nick ordered.

The figure on the front step ducked back inside. Other doors along Beachfront Lane opened.

“Mrs. Spalding,” Vivian said. “She lives in the house next door. She’s a little hard of hearing.”

“I’ll get her out,” Nick said. “Rex. Stay.”

Rex took up his post at Vivian’s side. Nick loped up the walk to Mrs. Spalding’s front door.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Rex had ceased barking but other dogs took up the chorus. Lights came on in the rest of the cottages. The night was in chaos.

Mrs. Spalding opened her door garbed in an aging bathrobe. By the time Nick got her out of the house a small crowd had gathered in the lane. Vivian’s cottage was fully engulfed now.

Fire trucks arrived on the scene. Nick turned to make sure that Vivian was still safe.

A flashbulb exploded. He closed his eyes but not before he was partially dazzled by the glare.

“Damn it,” he said. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“This is my night job, remember?”

He was dumbfounded. “It happens to be your house that is burning down.”

“It’s a fire. It will sell, provided I give the picture some context. Otherwise one burning building looks a lot like any other burning building. Context is the key to a fire photo.”

As he watched, rendered momentarily speechless by her ice-cold nerve, she pressed the button that ejected the hot flashbulb. The used bulb hit the pavement near his feet and shattered. In a single, fluid motion, Vivian took a new bulb out of the bulging pocket of her trench coat, inserted it into the camera, and fired off another shot.

And another.

She loaded film and flashbulbs with the skill of a marksman firing a rifle.

A thought hit him, driving out his astonishment.

“Forget the fire,” he said. “Get the crowd.”

She did not look up from her work. “I always get a few crowd shots.”

“We want lots of them. Try to get everyone you can.”

She did pause briefly then.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because there’s a chance he’s here in this crowd. Firebugs like to watch.”

“I’ve heard that,” Vivian said. “But if he’s after me, he’s not a firebug, he’s an assassin. Why would he risk sticking around?”

“I’ll explain later. For now, just concentrate on the crowd shots.”

“You bet. The expressions on the faces of the people watching a fire are always more interesting than the flames anyway.”

Nick shook his head. “You’re amazing.”

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