Hannah shook her head. “We were all in the front yard, and whoever got her out, went in through the back.” She scowled. “The press is having a great time with this. We would have kept it out of the papers, but the mom talked. Now it’s all out there—the unusual burn patterns, the way the girl escaped down the laundry chute, the mysterious ‘hero.’ ”

Her voice was full of disdain, but Gabriel was stuck on the mom. He could still remember the way she’d grabbed him around the neck, the way she’d sobbed her thanks.

He dropped his pizza onto the plate and cleared his throat. “So you think someone is starting the fires just to save people?”

“No.” She paused for a long moment, and her voice dropped. “Yesterday one of the other firehouses lost a fireman. We’re just trying to stop this guy before he kills anyone else.”

Gabriel’s appetite was entirely gone.

He wished he’d gotten there fifteen minutes earlier. Maybe he could have saved that guy, too.

At the same time, he wished he’d never gotten involved.

“I told you,” he said woodenly. “I didn’t see anyone.”

He could still feel Michael watching him.

His cell phone chimed. Gabriel grabbed it, glad for an excuse to look away.

Layne. Please be Layne.

No. Hunter.

Fire at 116 Winterbourne. In?

Gabriel stared at the display. Then he texted back.

Don’t have the car.

Hunter’s reply was lightning quick.

Pick U up in 5.

Gabriel shoved the phone into his pocket and realized Hannah and Michael were both staring at him now. He scraped his chair back. “I’m going out.” He glanced at Hannah. “Sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“Where?” said Michael.

“With Hunter,” he said, going through the doorway.

“Where?”

“Out,” he called back. He grabbed his backpack. “Remember, you told me to make friends.”

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 16

Last night’s fire had wanted to play. This one was a raging wall of hot fury. Gabriel stood beside Hunter in the shadows of the neighbor’s storage shed and felt the power wash over him.

The entire upstairs of the split-level was consumed, flames blazing through shattered windowpanes. Winterbourne Way was one of those residential neighborhoods that took two weeks to build, where each house had exactly a quarter of an acre of land and everything looked identical.

Except this one would look like a charred mess in the morning.

Three fire trucks lined the road out front, firefighters and EMTs scurrying around in the front yard.

No one was screaming tonight. He couldn’t even hear smoke detectors.

The fire was making him jittery, like the fury was seeping into his skin and begging him to throw a punch or something.