Chapter Thirty-Nine
Eliot
Dark, rolling smoke, thicker at the top of the column, tells the story before I’m close enough to see the flames. There’s nothing left inside the building to be saved. Enough heat plus time, and anything inside a building that can burn does. Often all at once.
Two engines, a ladder truck, and an SUV with the battalion chief’s insignia crowd the parking lot. Parts of the roof are open to the sky, flames visible through some of the disintegrating ceiling tiles and blown out windows.
No one’s going inside. Not yet. They’re running defense—the ladder truck’s main stream working the roof, while handlines soak the walls—waiting for the fuel to run out.
The firefighter on the nozzle braces against the recoil while someone else feeds the line from the truck, keeping the slack out of the mud without being told to.
I haven’t held a charged line in more than seven years, but I can still feel the weight of it in my hands.
The dull, throbbing ache that never quite went away unless you managed to score a full week’s vacation.
A probie—the kid can’t be older than twenty-five—runs back to the ladder truck for something, and for a moment, the face behind the mask looks like Zack’s.
Fuck.
Would he still be doing this job if it hadn’t been for me? Would he have taken his Captain’s exam early like I did? Or listened to the guys with a shit-ton better sense?
His birthday was in August. I’m not sure why I suddenly remember that now. He’d be almost twenty-nine. Maybe married. Maybe divorced…because this job—that job—is fucking hard on the families.
I robbed him of the chance to find out. Robbed the world of a good kid who was growing into a good man.
He should be the one on the nozzle. And I should be the one who never came home.
But I did. And every day since, I’ve had to figure out how to carry that. What to do with this life I never asked for. The life I would have traded in an instant for Zack’s.
The only answer I’ve ever found?
Make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.
The roof shifts, another piece of it crashing to the ground. Sparks hiss and crackle against the onslaught from the hoses.
Stop. You’ve got a job to do.
Taking a step back, I adjust my gear bag on my shoulder. I’m far enough away that the smoke only tickles the back of my throat, but I pull out a respirator anyway. If the wind changes, I’ll need it.
At the end of the block, someone ducks into an alley between two buildings. Tall. Broad. Was that a baseball cap?
I can’t do anything to help the crews on-scene, so I head for the alley, phone in my hand. It’s probably nothing. Someone who works in the area rubbernecking or filming for social media who didn’t want to catch the attention of law enforcement.
But one of the first things they teach you as an arson investigator is that criminals often enjoy watching their own handiwork.
The alley’s empty by the time I get there, the stench from a dumpster competing with the smoke. Maybe the guy was just taking a shortcut to his car. I’ll tell Parker when she gets here.
I’m back watching the roofline and occasionally scanning the crowd for anyone suspicious when Nate’s Impala pulls in behind my truck.
Parker is out of the car first, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before she takes in the handful of onlookers, the dwindling smoke, and the water running along the gutters on either side of the street.
“How much longer?” she asks, smoothing one hand over her dark blue tie.
“Until I can get in there? Depends on how much debris has to be overhauled once the fire’s out. If the building was empty to start…could be thirty minutes. If not, could be an hour or more.”
“Well, shit.” She pulls a notebook out of her back pocket. “We ran the inspection and ownership records before we left the station.”
The look on her face tells me more than words ever could. “Apex? Again?”
“Give the man a cigar,” Nate drawls. “On second thought, don’t. More embers won’t help anyone right now.”
“Was it the same guy who signed off on the Aldrich job?” I ask.
“Nope.” Parker flips through a couple of pages in her notebook.
“License number comes back to one Charlie Kessler. Carol—she’s what passes for an HR department at Apex—wouldn’t confirm more than Kessler’s employment status without a court order.
Said it was company policy for salaried positions.
AJ has one of the new guys running down his current address. ”
“Anything pop here?” Nate asks.
“Maybe?” Turning, I point to the alley at the end of the block. “Saw someone disappear between those last two buildings maybe thirty minutes ago. By the time I got across the street, they were gone.”
“You went after them?” Parker asks. “Alone?”
The rough edge to her voice is more concern than anger, but it still rubs me the wrong damn way. I feel useless enough as it is.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my Wranglers. “I might not be as fit as you are, but I ain’t dead. AFD was less than a hundred feet away.”
Parker’s jaw works once, and then she turns on her heel and strides for the alley, her right hand resting on the butt of her gun. “I’ll check it out,” she mutters, more to the sidewalk than either of us.
Well, fuck.
Nate gives me the side-eye. “I warned you, Flint. If I end up at the native plant store with a shovel in my trunk, no one will find even one single strand of your hair.”
“I wasn’t puttin’ myself in any danger. And even if I was, that’s my fuckin’ choice.”
Nate takes a single step closer, his voice dropping so low, I strain to hear it over the last of the water hitting the building.
“I’ve known Parker for three years, worked with her every damn day, and she’s never said one word about her mother.
You don’t understand what she’s giving you.
Or how fucking hard it is for her to trust anyone.
So get your shit together and decide whether you’re all in or just using her to scratch an itch.
And if it’s the latter…well…I know where I can get a good deal on some black lace cacti and Texas snowbells.
” He holds my gaze for a beat too long, and I barely stop myself from squirming.
“Now, I’m gonna go work the scene with my partner. Get us something we can use.”
Nate pulls a notebook from his back pocket, turns, and beelines for Parker, leaving me staring after him, both irritated and impressed. He spends his life hunting criminals, yet also has the wherewithal to be the world’s most terrifying relationship counselor.
Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to the building. The incident commander is headed inside, which means I’ll get the all clear in a few minutes. Time to suit up.