King of the Woods, or Trivial Pursuit

Part 20 - Bouquet

"Jim Motherfucking Frazer!" Byron punched the steering wheel, causing the horn to honk. The driver of the hatchback in front of them flipped them off, but changed lanes. Byron's truck roared past before Ray could mouth an apology.

"Slow down!" Ray said, white knuckling the handle above the passenger side window.

"You slow down!" Byron said, stepping on the gas. He reached across to the cab to open his glove compartment, revealing a gallon freezer bag of marijuana, rolling papers, and a lighter. The truck veered onto the shoulder and clipped a roadside memorial, spinning it like a quintain.

Ray slammed the compartment shut. "Dude, chill!"

Byron parked the truck. "He burned down all my weed! And, you know, the other stuff. Flowers, pinecones, rocks, little baby birds..." His eyes widened. He jumped out of the truck, ran back to the memorial, and straightened it out. Ray watched in the rear view mirror, unsure of how to react. When Byron returned, his eyes were red, and moisture darkened his shirt sleeve.

Ray gripped Byron's meaty shoulder. "It's okay. We'll stop him."

"How?" Byron said.

"I saw him pick up that bottle of lighter fluid," Ray said. "Maybe he left fingerprints."

Byron shook his head. "Maybe they burned off in the fire. Maybe he wore gloves. Maybe he cut off his fingerprints like Kevin Spacey in Seven."

"That seems unlikely," Ray said.

"Unlikely like a Deputy Chief setting forest fires?" Byron said. "No one's going to believe us, man."

"So we need more evidence before we call the Bureau." Ray said. "Otherwise they'll just tip him off."

"What about the Kangaroo?" Byron said. "They'll have Jim on video, right."

"The camera's fake," Ray said.

"We'll get gas station dude to talk," Byron said.

"And say what?" Ray said. "That Jim bought gas from a gas station? Plus, gas station dude hates you because you tried to sleep with his sister."

Byron slapped Ray just enough to sting.

"Oww!" Ray said.

"I didn't try," Byron said. "I'm a doer. Be a doer, Ray!"

"Ok, fine," Ray said. "We need to connect Jim to the fires. There is something weird about the salvage forms he gave me. If we figure that out..."

"Are those the same forms that Carol worked on?" Byron said.

"Jim said Carol's at Memorial," Ray said. "If she's feeling better, she might be able to tell us something."

-

In the waiting room for Memorial Hospital's neuro ICU, a middle-aged woman clutched a small porcelain kitten to her breast and sobbed. Her husband patted her shoulder and whispered reassuring words. A few chairs away, a lean, older man with a face like a greyhound's spoke quietly on his cellphone. The nametag on his policeman's uniform said: "Huntsman." Three children accompanied the couple: one looked bored, one played a gem-matching game on her tablet, and the third plaintively asked: "Where's Nana?"

"Nana went to heaven, baby," the child's mother said.

"What's that mean?" the child said.

The door to the neuro ICU burst open, and Byron stormed out holding a bouquet of flowers, followed by Ray. "She's fucking dead!"

The child's mother - Carol's daughter - sobbed harder. Carol's son-in-law stood and balled up his fists. Officer Huntsman stopped speaking on his phone.