Alternating between her place and Ralph's helped a lot with getting used to being alone like she was in her apartment on the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend. Her first time truly alone since the third meeting of her group of incredible investigators. Everyone agreed she was safe with her new alarm. At least for a few hours at a time.

Smoky was getting bigger and wore his harness all the time now. He was sitting staring at his leash where it hung from its customary hook by the door. Ralph swore he was more than half dog the way he would act when she forgot about their walk.

"Not now, cat. Time to brush that fur of yours." She patted the top of the kitchen island. Smoky turned to watch her with his unblinking blue eyes and looked up at his leash again.

"Brush first. Then I have to proofread a paper before we can go out."

Smoky stalked over and leapt up. Mel grabbed her brush and began the process of dealing with his silver gray ruff. The rumbling purr under her hands reassured her Smoky was just fine with her change of plans. As long as she kept up with his fur on a daily basis it only took twenty minutes to complete the chore.

Her love of color chaos showed in her choices for décor. All the colors of the rainbow highlighted the matching drapes at all of her windows. Geometric block patterns on the throw pillows put more color against the faux suede couch in beige. She even had an easy chair. Her spider plants survived in spite of being dumped out of their pots.

Ralph laughed when he saw the bedroom in fuchsia, white, and turquoise blue. Some how it all worked together against the lacquered black bedroom suite with a queen bed. The headboard was under the window.

With Smoky stretched out along the top of the back of the sofa, like a over sized powderpuff, she brought up the paper she finished the night before. Proofreading finished, she sent it to her Marketing prof in an email and opened her WhatsApp up. Far easier to type messages and catch up with what was going on this way. Things were moving. There were over thirty new messages, plus the ones she ignored while she was writing her paper the other day.

Opening the group chat established halfway through the week before Thanksgiving she caught up on the new developments. With her cat's long ringed tail brushing against her neck, she began to read. There were over fifty entries and she kicked herself for not checking sooner. Couldn't be helped. Somethings were more important.

First off, Lana went to the Mental Health Hospital. The court order releasing Deloras was a fake. An impeccable forgery, but there were no records of a hearing in any court database. No help there figuring out who her accomplice was either. The CCTV records were recycled every ninety days. Lana missed her chance by four days.

Agnus and Sylvia had better luck. The bartender at Lazy Eight was a fountain of information. Once they showed Grumman's picture around, and Agnus settled in on one of the high stools at the thickly varnished oak bar, the regulars started talking. Agnus' message contained a number of comments about Burt Grumman.

"That's Burt. Don't want to cross his path once he's had a few," a grizzled old man volunteered. "Mean drunk that one."

His buddy snorted. "Bragging about how his girlfriend was coming to visit. Surprised he has one. The women around here take care to avoid him."

"Haven't seen him much since the beginning of September. A couple of times maybe. Brought her in the once though. A real looker that one. Gorgeous eyes, but her hair was too short for my liking. Swore she was a boy from the back. All I could see from here," the bartender said.

All of this was broken by messages from the rest of the group.

The next message that caught her attention was from Sylvia.

The waitress, one Bunny Windsor was the one who put the cap on our evening when she slipped between two tables of firefighters. I was line dancing with one of them and when we returned to the table, I pulled the mugshots I found of Deloras out of my back pocket.

We have a positive ID on Deloras as the brush cut blonde with the mouthy cop. Bunny said they paid in cash, something Grumman never did, and left together.

The next message from Sylvia contained more from the Lazy Eight and one particular quote from Bunny.

And I quote: "We have a smoking section back there," she pointed to a section hidden behind a glass wall and closed doors. It was mine that night. I've never seen anyone who would just let matches burn down like her. Almost burning her fingers. Then she made a heap of torn napkins in the ashtray and set that on fire. That's when I told them the had to leave. Haven't heard if they've been in since."

Angus' next message joined the others Mel highlighted.

I have a recording of that, but we can't use it as evidence. However, Sylvia has one amazing memory. She can recite that conversation word for word.

At that point Greg wrote:

We need an arrest warrant for Deloras Durant-Williams.

It got several thumbs up. Then the last message in the group conversation.

Lana wrote Sylvia has an arrest warrant. The license plate you gave her is registered to Deloras under an alias. She used your name Mel. The mugshot was enough to prove it an illegal document. We have an address. It was a slam dunk once we proved the fraudulent court order and Internal Affairs is about to issue one for Burt Grumman as well.

Mel jumped up, startling Smoky as she danced a little jig around her living room. Returning to her laptop she typed a message.

So, it's hurry up and wait. Right?

Her phone rang inside of a couple of seconds after she hit send.

"Want some company, Mel?"

It was Ralph.

God, I love him. Shit, where did that come from? Talk about footprints on my heart. He never fails to understand the undercurrents of what I'm saying. How did he learn to listen like he does? I have to tell him.

"I do. I'm still antsy about being alone. And this seems a little to good to be true. I'm sitting here thinking the alarm isn't going to be enough, like I'm running out time to do and say the things I need to get Deloras back in custody."

Along with I love you. Hurry up Ralph. I've got to tell you.

"I agree. I read the whole WhatsApp convo just now too. I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Sit tight."

"Thanks, Ralph." She hung up and went over to check the alarm. The little light blinked a reassuring pattern of red flashes, and she pulled the drapes against the glare of Elena's new security lighting over the bakery door.

Sitting down at her laptop, she saw Ralph's message.

I am heading over to Mel's. We shouldn't have left her alone.

"Smoky, why do I feel like a deer in the crosshairs?"

Her cat took two giant leaps to the top of his cat tree. Sitting on his bed, his blue eyes reflected the flame of the pumpkin spice candle burning on the corner of the kitchen island. He looked like a hunter on the prowl.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Anson joined Greg in his SUV.

"Are you ready to do some stake out work?" Greg asked as his brother settled into the passenger seat.

"You got Deloras' address? Did Sylvia give it to you?"

"Not bloody likely. That would be a breach of SOP. No, I got it from my own sources. I do know from all Dad's stories and yours, Fort Collins Sheriffs aren't going to move until at least tomorrow night. Or if it goes really smooth, dawn---maybe before breakfast. It takes time to plan the operation."

"Yeah, you're right there. The best we can hope for is tomorrow morning."

"I'm hoping she goes out tonight. With luck, to set a fire. The arson inspector from the fire department told Sylvia there is a distinct pattern to the nuisance fires in the dumpsters, garbage cans and once in a wooden play structure in a daycare's outdoor play area. They happen every twenty-four to thirty days."

"What is the method she uses?" Anson asked as they entered the neighborhood where Deloras' apartment was.

"Usually some gasoline followed by lit matches. There are a few which were started with barbeque starter pellets."

"Two different arsonists?" his brother wondered. "Let's stop and grab a coffee. Cozy Corner is open for another for another hour. When do the fires usually start?"

"We have time if she holds true to pattern. Usually between midnight and 03:00. The fire which killed Mel's parents and brothers was called in by their nearest neighbor at 01:32. The bar he worked at closed at midnight. It was a Monday."

"Is Mel working tonight?" Anson asked as Greg circled around a crescent and made the turn back the other way.

"No. She's home alone for the first time. Remember what we were talking about at Thanksgiving dinner. How she's been staying there for more and more time by herself? Mel says she needs the time to get her class work done. Ralph does too." Greg snickered a bit. "Ah to be young and in love again."

"Wasn't paying attention to the conversation at that end of the table," Anson admitted.

"Never mind. It doesn't make any difference. I'll just go around through the alley and make sure nobody's poking around."

Anson tightened his seat belt. "Hurry up. We shouldn't have left her alone. My gut says it wasn't a smart move. We noticed that car on your front door surveillance camera footage. The one you got the license plate off of. Deloras is following her more often than not."

"Dammit, I wish I had lights and a siren just now."

"Me too, brother. Just floor it okay?"

Greg nipped through another red light.

"I hope I'm just over-anxious." Anson said as he watched the speedometer climb.

"Brace yourself because I hope I catch the attention of the cop over there. Might as well bring some help with us." Greg cut in front of the Sheriff's car and watched the lights come on.

Anson shook his head. "You're going to lose your license."

"Worth it. Keep your eyes peeled. If you spot trouble, say something."

"Got it. My head's on a swivel. Watch to the right."

Greg fell into the rhythm of escape driving. Bogota taught him a few more things than how to figure out cocoa beans.