Shannon turns from the fire and squints at the buildings around the cemetery. We’re all having the same thought. Someone is watching us. The fire could have been live-triggered.

At the back of the cemetery there’s an ivy-covered fence. Just beyond is a row of warehouses. I’m sure the police cleared the area, but there’s something too convenient about the location. Shannon notices me looking in that direction.

I almost miss the figure at first. Hard to see against the night sky, there’s an outline of someone lying flat on the roof of a building.

I’m about to suggest that we quietly call it in to the local police when Shannon shouts, “You on the roof, freeze!”

I don’t wait to see if they follow orders. I know he’s about to bolt. I take off running to try to reach him before he has a chance to climb down and get away.

Shannon and Gimbal are behind me, far behind me, by the time I make it to the fence.

I thank God for yoga as I slip my body over the top rail and land in a crouch without hurting myself. I should wait for them to catch up, but time is everything.

I slip my Glock from my holster and run to the other side of the building. Footsteps echo from the alley. I can’t tell if they’re running away or running toward me.

9

THE WATCHER WHO was on the roof can only be a few hundred feet away. On the other side of the building I reach a narrow alley between the warehouse and a chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Wild grass and torn-up garbage bags litter the empty lot on the other side.

The sun has set and the alley is lit only by stray streetlights and the dark silver sky, hiding the moon. My knee bangs into a broken crate that slams into a metal Dumpster. I have to keep my eyes on the ground to avoid tripping on the abandoned machinery.

I can’t see anyone moving, but I decide to shout anyway. “Freeze! FBI!”

I’m answered by the sound of wind whipping at tattered newspapers. I step forward, keeping my gun trained on the darkest corners. I know I saw someone on the roof, I just don’t know who. It could be our perp or some kid who wanted to get a better look and was scared off by Shannon’s shout. I proceed carefully, more afraid of shooting an innocent person than for my own safety.

My eyes adjust a little to the shadows. I can’t see where anyone could be hiding. The rusty door on the loading dock looks as if it hasn’t been opened this century. I continue along and hear the sound of Shannon climbing over the fence. The metal makes a rattling sound, followed by a groan as he lands.

He catches his breath and shouts to me, “Anything?”

I keep my eyes trained ahead. “Negative.”

I reach the end of the alley without seeing a thing. At the back end of the warehouse is a fire escape leading to the roof. Gimbal approaches from the other side with his gun leveled at the ground.