"And Look at them. Look how they died" Mitchell murmured. "It's like a flashing neon arrow." She looked over at Westphalen. "A cry for help?"

Westphalen lifted shaggy gray brows. "More like a cry of rage."

Reed was surprised. He'd expected the shrink to run with the "cry for help" mantra. It was another thing he hated about shrinks: Nothing was anybody's fault. If a criminal committed a crime they were crying for help. That was bullshit. Criminals committed crimes because they got something out of it. Period. If they wanted help, they'd ask nicely, not by nearly blowing up a damn neighborhood.

Spinnelli pushed away from the table and walked to the whiteboard. "So we have what?" He started writing, creating two columns he headed Dougherty/Burnette and Hill. "Time of the crime?"

"Both about midnight," Reed said. "Both were residential structures in middle-class neighborhoods Both used incendiary devices with a fuse."

"Don't forget about the trash can," Mitchell murmured.

"And both had a separate fire," Reed added. "Set in a waste-basket with newspaper and a filterless cigarette. Without the filter, the cigarette burns down to the end, setting the newspaper on fire. It's a very simple, but effective time-delay device."

Spinnelli noted it, then turned around. "Now that sounds more like a novice."

"It means something," Mitchell said quietly. "It's… symbolic."

"You're probably right. What else?" Spinnelli asked. "Sam?"

"Both bodies were charred beyond visual recognition," Barrington offered. "As I said, the degree of the damage appears much greater in the second victim."

"Mrs. Hill," Mitchell murmured. "Her name was Penny Hill."

Something in her face squeezed at Reed's heart but Barrington just lifted his blond brows. "The killer used something different on the second victim. Something that didn't burn off as fast."

"Check for the nitrate mixture," Reed said. "I'll have the lab fax you the formula."

"I'll be waiting for it. Get me the second victim's dental records, Detective. I'll make a positive ID as quickly as I can."

"Yeah," Mitchell said flatly. "I'll be on that today."

Barrington stood. "If there's nothing more, I have a great deal to do today."

"Call us when you have something," Spinnelli said and Barrington left.

For a moment Mitchell glared at the door the ME had closed, then slowly flattened her fist on her thigh. When she spoke, it was quietly. "Marc, Caitlin Burnette's body was incinerated with gasoline. Penny Hill's with something… hotter."

"Probably not hotter," Reed inserted. "Just something that didn't burn off as fast."

She shrugged, annoyed. "Whatever. My point is, it was a difference. He changed. Improving on his MO, maybe."

Spinnelli's mustache bent down as he considered it. "Sounds like a reasonable assumption. What are the differences?"

"In the first house he left two devices," Reed said. "One in the kitchen and one in the master bedroom. In the second, he didn't leave one in the bedroom."

Westphalen seemed intrigued by this. "Why?"

"A specific rage for the Doughertys maybe," Westphalen said. "It was their bed."

"Or he may have decided he got plenty of bang with one device, so why risk a second," Reed countered. "A common mistake of novice arsonists is leaving too many incendiary devices. They think one is good, so five is better. But if one of the five doesn't go off, it's evidence. Simplifying could be part of his learning curve. But we'll ask the Doughertys if they have any enemies." He glanced at Mitchell. "They called me this morning. I told them we'd meet them at their house sometime after nine."'

"That's fine." She frowned though. "Miles, if the Doughertys were the target, I'd agree. But if Caitlin was the victim, why the master bed? I mean, Caitlin was studying in the spare bedroom. What good did burning a bed she'd never touched do him?"

"It's a good question," Westphaler. admitted. "Go talk to the Doughertys."

"Other differences?" Spinnelli asked.

"He left Caitlin's car in the garage and used Penny Hill's to get away," Reed said.

"It does seem like he's organizing his method," West-phalen commented.

Spinnelli scribbled on the board. "Jack?"

"We found blood spatter on the carpet we took from the Doughertys' house. Ben Trammell also found what could have been the metal button from her jeans. It was in the hall, in a crevice against the staircase. We didn't find any trace of her jeans in the hall, but they could have burned. If they did, we should find some remnants in the ash."

"What about the gasoline?" Mitchell asked.

"None on the carpet. Only in the kitchen around where the body was found."

"So he raped and shot her in the hall, then dragged her into the kitchen and doused her with gasoline." Mitchell clenched her jaw. "Son of a bitch."

"Next of kin," Spinnelli said. "Have Penny Hill's been informed?"

"Not yet," she said. "I've called all the Mark Hills in Cincinnati, but none of them are related to Penny. Human Resources at DCFS will be at their desks in another half hour or so. I'll get contact information from them."

Spinnelli sat down. "Miles, can you give us a profile, or at least a place to start?"

Westphalen cast a cautious glance Reed's direction. "Lieutenant Solliday probably has a better understanding of arsonists."

Reed gestured for him to continue, interested in what he had to say. "Go ahead."

Westphalen took off his glasses and polished the lenses with his handkerchief. "Well, about twenty-five percent of arsonists are under fourteen and light fires for excitement or due to compulsion. I don't think that's the case here. Another twenty-five percent are fifteen to eighteen." He shrugged. "I don't want to believe a teenager could do this, but we all know they're capable. Rarely are arsonists over thirty years old. If they are, they're the torches the lieutenant mentioned-purely for profit. Adult arsonists who aren't for profit are almost always seeking revenge. The majority are white. Almost all are male. I'd almost guarantee this perpetrator has a record."

"We couldn't find any prints," Unger said. "He didn't leave anything behind that we've found so far, so we have nothing to lead us to him or his record."

Westphalen frowned. "Well, when he leaves something behind, I'm betting you'll be able to link it to someone, somewhere in the system. The fact that he was seen driving away from Mrs. Hill's house seconds before the explosion indicates he either planned the timing of his escape poorly or that he planned it well and has a high need for risk."

"A high sensation seeker," Mitchell said and Westphalen nodded.

"Perhaps. Arsonists in general have had an unstable childhood. Absent fathers, emotional abuse from the mother."

Reed's jaw tightened. There it was. He'd known it was impossible for any psychologist not to blame upbringing. Westphalen's eyes met his and Reed could see the shrink had picked up on his irritation, but the older man just mildly continued. "Many times arson is a stepping stone for sex crimes," Westphalen added. "I've treated a number of sexual predators who have used arson as a means of sexual gratification early on. Then the fires aren't good enough anymore. They graduate to rape."

"So you're not surprised that this guy would rape and burn," Mitchell said.

Westphalen put his glasses back on. "No, it doesn't surprise me at all. What does surprise me is that he didn't stick around to watch his fire burn. He plans such a giant blast and then doesn't stay for the performance."

"I thought the same thing," Reed agreed, stowing his irritation. "I checked the crowd last night. I didn't see anybody in either crowd that didn't live in the neighborhood and I didn't see anybody last night that was at the Doughertys' fire."