Page 67 of Fear of Flames
“How many books has she written?” Ali asked.
Kenzi opened another window and entered D. Valentine. “Her website says four. The Wishing Well was her first. Broken Promises is the most recent. Don’t Say Goodbye and Until Tomorrow are the others.” She turned to Ali. “Why do you ask?”
“I have her Amazon page up.” Ali sat back and sighed. “What do you enjoy?”
Kenzi laughed. “You can probably guess.”
“Right. True crime. Me too.”
“Well, I’m glad to know that. It works for our podcast.”
“I’ve only read the one—The Wishing Well. It reminded me a lot of the Emily Madison case.” Ali said.
Kenzi nodded. “Frank Loews.” She shook her head. “I can see some similarities. He got away with it.”
“Yeah, the accused abductor got off—hung jury.”
Kenzi scrunched her nose. “But the trial resulted in uncovering a bigger trafficking network. I think it was somewhere around here.”
“The trial was in Indianapolis. The media called the network Crossroads. A few months after the trial Frank Loews committed suicide.”
“What does this have to do with Michelle Holdcraft?” Kenzi asked.
“I read Broken Promises, and that story had similarities to a Wisconsin abduction of two girls. Remember, we covered that on the podcast.”
“I still don’t?—”
Ali went on. “Hear me out. I’ve got the synopsis of the other two books here. They sound like they’re stories about human trafficking. If Michelle Holdcraft a.k.a. D. Valentine is a serial arsonist, wouldn’t she write about fires? I mean, you do what you enjoy.”
Kenzi’s eyes grew wide. “You think she’s involved in the abduction of Timothy Wells.”
“Shit, no. I just don’t think she is what the attorney general is saying. She couldn’t have been in Iron Falls and in Indianapolis, and that shed is bugging me.”
“Me too. We need to prove she didn’t do what she’s accused of doing.”
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Safe in Fletch’s embrace, in the middle of a secret compound, Michelle closed her burning eyes. She knew she wasn’t guilty; nevertheless, the thoughts returned from eight years ago, the ones that sought to spread the seeds of doubt.
If Michelle questioned her own innocence, wouldn’t a grand jury do the same?
The evidence was stacking up.
Three fires.
Two people dead.
Two explosions.
Michelle was the connection between all of it. She was the center of a Venn diagram.
Her temples throbbed. However, before she could break away from Fletch’s strong arms, his doorbell rang. At the tones, Fletch stiffened. Michelle looked up to his dark stare.
“Go in the bedroom and shut the door.”
Fletch’s tone sent her frayed nerves into overdrive. “Could someone be coming after me?”
