Scream

"L.K Biersack-Purdy is here to see you."

Detective Williams let the words echo through his little office, savoring each and every one. He knew she'd be back; in fact, he'd expected her a couple of hours ago. She was with the press, and already word on the street was that the John Doe was about to be identified. Williams wished he knew how the hell the damned reporters knew things before he did, but so far, he hadn't been able to find or plug the leak in his department.

The door opened and L.K marched in. She'd pulled herself together since he'd last talked to her and now, with her auburn hair framing her flushed face, her light blue eyes snapping with fury, she was downright gorgeous. Everyone in town had called her the plain sister -- a girl who couldn't hold a candle to Abigail Bale. Wilson couldn't imagine it. He climbed to his feet -- a polite habit he'd learned from his Virginia-bred mother.

"You know who the man in the hospital is?" she demanded.

"And 'good afternoon' to you, too." Waving her into a chair on the opposite side of the desk, he took a seat again. "Not yet, but we will soon."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Why would I?"

"Because I'm--I'm involved; Ashley's wife."

"But you're not related to the John Doe. You didn't recognize him."

"My father's mill burned down!"

"So?" He set the heel of his boot on the edge of his desk and leaned back in his chair. "Look, Mrs. Biersack. I brought you in for questioning. I went to the hospital with you. I hoped you would help our investigation, that you would cooperate, but I don't see that I have any reason to tell you anything else. Besides, you're a reporter. I make statements to the press every day--"

"I'm not interested in a press release, Detective. This isn't about a story. I just want to find out who burned down the sawmill and nearly killed my husband."

"That's what we're trying to determine."

"Who is he?"

"We're not sure," he said. "Just calm down, sit in the chair over there and I'll get you a cup of coffee."

"Don't bother. Just tell me the ID of the John Doe." She looked desperate, more desperate that she should, given the circumstances.

"As I said, we don't know yet, but I'll tell you this: We found key information and it looks like ol' John will be identified. It might take a while, but we'll find out." He smiled, content with himself.

Things were going better than he'd hoped. Whereas a few days ago, he was faced with dead ends, today he had a wallet, information about the dying man, and a whole new perspective on the case.

"Why don't you tell me what happened," L.K said, calming a little and settling back in her chair. She crossed one leg over the other, and Wilson tried not to notice the length of her calf.

"Once we ID the guy, check him out and contact his relatives, I'll release his name. Until then, he's just John Doe."

L.K tented her hands thoughtfully, her gaze centering squarely on Williams' face. "Have you spoken to my husband?"

"Last I heard, he's not talking."

"He talked to me."

The muscles in the back of Wilson's neck tightened. "When?"

"The other day."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I'm telling you now. He only spoke to me once."

His eyes narrowed. "What did he have to say?"

"Not much except that he wants out of the hospital."

"In his condition?" Williams nearly laughed. Ashley Biersack-Purdy had a reputation for being bullheaded. "Did you ask him about the identity of the man?"

"He denies knowing or talking to him."

"You think he's telling the truth?"

"I don't know, but I trust Ashley. Since I stopped by, he hasn't spoken a word, not to my parents who visited him, not to the doctors or nurses who have been caring for him. I'm not sure they believe he can talk."

He was ahead of her -- way ahead. "So you think that if we gave you information and you took it to him, he might respond, but that he won't speak to us."

"Could be."

His boot clattered to the floor. "I might point out that you're not an officer of the law."

"I don't think he'll talk to one."

"Then, he'll be charged with hindering an investigation."

"Do you really think he'll care? He's stuck in a hospital bed, his leg and arm broken, his face wired together, maybe blind in one eye. I don't think he's afraid of jail at this point."

"He might be smarter than you think."

"No, he might be smarter than you think." Her lips pursed together in fury. "You try and accuse him of a crime, and he'll hire a team of lawyers who will find physicians who swear he can't talk, that his throat and voice were affected by the smoke or trauma or something; then, they'll point out he was sedated and on painkillers; that even if he did speak, he wouldn't be lucid. They'll parade a dozen experts in who'll cite instances where a patient was too traumatized to speak, too out of it to talk rationally. Since he's only spoken to me, it'll be my word against his, and I won't have to testify against him because he's my husband."

Williams forced a smile he didn't feel. "You're trying to tell me that if I want to question your husband, I'll have to go through you, is that it?"

"I don't even know if he'll speak to me again."

Frustration seared a hole in his gut. He could push the issue if he wanted to. He was certain he would convince Ashley to talk to him without her help, but it might work to his advantage to follow her lead and watch how she and her husband got along. He still didn't understand their relationship, but something wasn't right.

"I'm taking his mother to visit him this afternoon," she said, seeming nervous.

"You won't mind if I tag along?"

"Of course I'd mind. You can't come in while he's with Eva, but afterward would be okay."

"You know, Mrs. Biersack, no matter what you may think, you're not calling the shots on this investigation."

"You don't get it, do you?" she said, her lips barely moving, anger burning bright in the patches of color on her cheeks. "I'm not interested in some power play. I'm just giving you the facts, and I'm hoping that for my efforts, you'll be honest with me."

She leaned forward, planting her palms firmly on the edge of the desk as she stood.

"I'd like to know who the man in CCU is, and I give you my word that I won't take his name to my paper."

He didn't trust her, but he couldn't help asking, "Why is it so important?"

Something flickered in her eyes, a private pain he didn't understand, before she said, "Isn't it obvious? He could be the man who tried to kill my husband."

Swinging her purse over her shoulder, she left. As quickly as she'd burst into his office, she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

"Son of a bitch."

Williams opened the top drawer of his desk and reached for his bottle of antacid pills. Some of the confidence he'd felt earlier seeped away.

L.K Biersack-Purdy wasn't just an attractive irritation, he thought as her poured for white tablets into his hand and tossed them into his mouth. She was going to try and roadblock him every step of the way.

Why?

He crushed the tablets in his teeth and washed them down with a swallow of cold, stale coffee. Climbing to his feet, he walked to the window and stared out into the parking lot, where L.K, hair turning fire into the sun, unlocked her Jeep and settled behind the wheel. She knew something, he guessed, but he couldn't figure out what. Maybe she did know the ID of the John Doe, or maybe her husband had told her what he was doing at the sawmill that night. If the guy was talking. Just because she said so didn't make it a fact. He swirled the dregs in his cup. She definitely knew more than she was telling, and he didn't think it was because she hoped to scoop the other papers. No, this was personal to her. Real personal.

He wondered if she'd hired the man herself in hopes of burning the mill, killing her husband and collecting a little insurance to boot. According to everyone he'd talk to who'd known the Biersacks as a couple, their marriage was on the skids--only a step away from divorce.

Williams polished his teeth with his tongue as he thought. Was it just coincidence that the arson device was similar to the one used in the fire that killed Abigail Bale and Jimmy Sanchez? Or was this man the culprit both times? Or... was the man an innocent victim, someone who had either been meeting with Ashley or prowling around the sawmill for other reasons? One of the workers? A disgruntled employee? Someone who wanted papers in the office where the bookkeeper worked along with Ashley, Alex or his wife Kaya occasionally? Or a drifter--the same arsonist that sauntered town five years before?

Williams squinted and bit at his lower lip, watching as the Jeep roared out of the parking lot. Maybe Ashley Biersack had set the blaze to try and hide something or to collect the insurance or to kill the other guy. Maybe he was interrupted and caught in his own fiery trap. Or maybe the missus was involved; she would have wanted Ashley dead rather than divorce him. It would cost her less money. Or hell, the whole damned fire could be an accident and the two poor bastards caught in the blaze were just stupid-ass guys whose luck had run out. Williams didn't believe it for a minute.

Too bad Christian Bale had picked up Max before he'd cracked. Max knew more than he was saying and he'd been at the first fire as well. Another coincidence? Or was Max a firebug?

He'd have to question Max again--that much was certain--and as for Mrs. Biersack, well, it might not hurt to have her tailed. Max couldn't remember where he'd been during the fire.

Sure.

And L.K Biersack had been home. Alone.

He set his empty cup on a battered old file cabinet and returned to his desk. Lowering himself into his squeaking chair, he opened a bottom drawer and pulled out two files, one so thick it had to be held together with a rubber band, the other barely started. The first was filled with yellowed papers and notes, reports that had been kept in the archives for years, the unsolved murder cases of Abi Bale, her baby, and Jimmy Sanchez. The second was a new file, with crisp white paper, notes and computer printouts on the fire at Bale Sawmill.

His instincts told him the fires were related and there were a lot of people in town now who were potential suspects in the first investigation. He tugged on his lower lip. Too bad the first case was never solved and the bad-ass Biersack boy had taken off before he could be questioned. From all accounts, Andy was one helluva bad seed, always in trouble. It would have helped to know how we was involved in the first fire.

But he wasn't around. Probably dead or in prison somewhere far away.

Squinting at the file again, his heartbeat nudged up a notch when he considered John Doe's driver's license. Alaska. Pretty damned far away. Still a frontier in the seventies. A man could get lost in that wilderness... Could all just be a damned coincidence. Or was it?

He reached for the intercom button and barked out a request. Within minutes, Bonham sauntered through the door.

"Any luck with the Biersack woman?" he asked.

Williams shook his head. "Not yet, but I want her followed."

Bonham's dark eyes flared. "You got something?"

"Probably not, but Ashley Purdy is talking. At least she says he's talking, but get this, only to her."

Bonham snorted in disgust.

"Yeah, I think it's bullshit, but we'll check it out. Then, I want to talk to Max again, and he can bring in a whole army of angry lawyers for all I care. They can try to block me up one sides and down the other, but I want to talk to him."

Bonham shrugged. "I'll round him up."

"Then--this is a long shot--but check with Alaska DMV, see if they got anyone named Andy Biersack--and make that any white male around thirty named Biersack. Check accident reports and titles of cars through whatever agency they've got up there."

"Could be quite a list."

"I know, I know, but humor, would you?"

"You think the John Doe is Biersack?" Bonham clearly didn't believe it.

"Nah."

Williams cracked his knuckles in frustration.

"I said it was a long shot, a million-to-one. Oh, Christ, it's probably nothing more than a wild-goose chase, but just to make sure, lets check it out."

Notes

I know... I know... I've been away from 2 years. I didn't even realize how long it has been until I logged in one day and noticed the timeline.

I thought Lauren would log back in, but I guess she didn't keep up with the story either. A lot has changed, I'm now in college, and Lauren is now a mother in a different state. So, now it's only me keeping up with the story (no complaints, though XD)

I love writing this story, even though it took me 2 years to remember this site existed outside of high school and graduating.

Please comment and tell me what you think! I will updated regularly now! I promise.