Chapter 17
Marco
It’s three-fifteen and my phone’s ringing.
I’m in my office reviewing financial records for the café investigation when my phone lights up with the dispatch number.
“Reyes.”
“Fire at Millbrook Falls Public Library. Active scene. Requesting arson investigation unit.”
My stomach drops. “How bad?”
“Contained in the storage area. Crews on scene, no casualties reported.”
“I’m ten minutes out.”
I grab my kit and I’m out the door before the dispatcher can respond. Phoebe is at the state office today, so I’m solo on this one.
The library is on the north side of town, near the elementary school. I can see the smoke from three blocks away—a dark column rising against the clear afternoon sky.
Not massive. Not a fully involved structure fire. But enough to draw a crowd.
I pull up behind the fire trucks and kill the engine. Station 47’s engine is here, along with an ambulance and two police cruisers. The building’s still standing, but smoke pours from broken windows on the east side.
I grab my investigation kit and badge, clipping it to my belt as I approach the scene.
That’s when I see her.
Rachel Morgan is standing on the lawn with her son pressed against her chest, both of them covered in soot. She’s talking to a paramedic, but her eyes are locked on the building like she’s still trapped inside it.
Two fires.
Same woman.
Same woman at two separate fires in two weeks.
The coincidence hits me like a physical blow.
I force myself to look away and find the incident commander. Fire Lieutenant Hayes from Station 12 is coordinating the response, radio in hand.
“Marco Reyes, arson investigation.” I show him my badge. “What’s the situation?”
“Fire originated in the staff storage room, east side of the building. Smoke damage throughout, but the fire was contained before it could spread to the main structure.” He gestures toward the building. “We’re doing final checks now. Should have it cleared for investigation within the hour.”
“Casualties?”
“None. The building was evacuated quickly. Maybe twenty people were inside when the alarm went off.” He glances at his radio. “You’ll want to talk to the witnesses. Most of them are still on scene.”
“I’ll start with that. Let me know when I can enter.”
Hayes nods and returns to coordinating his crews.
I scan the crowd. Twenty or so people scattered across the lawn—library staff, patrons, and a few parents with kids. Most look shaken but unharmed.
I pull out my notebook and approach the nearest group.
A middle-aged woman wearing glasses and a name tag reading “Librarian” is talking to two police officers. I wait until they finish, then step in.
“Ma’am, I’m Marco Reyes with the county fire investigation unit. Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Of course.” She adjusts her glasses. “I’m Mrs. Chen. I work in the children’s section.”
“Where were you when the fire started?”
“At my desk. I was helping a mother and her son find a book when I smelled smoke.” She points toward the east side of the building. “It was coming from the staff area. I activated the fire alarm and started evacuating patrons.”
“Did you see anyone near the staff area before the fire started? Anyone who shouldn’t have been there?”
“No. That area is employees only. The door was closed when I walked past it, maybe ten minutes before the alarm went off.” She pauses. “But I did notice something strange earlier.”
“What?”
“The storage room door was propped open around two o’clock. We never leave it open—fire code violation. I closed it myself and made a mental note to ask who’d been back there.”
I write that down. “Who has access to that room?”
“All staff members. We keep supplies back there, along with damaged books waiting to be processed.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Do you think someone did this on purpose?”
“I can’t say yet. But thank you for the information.” I hand her my card. “If you remember anything else, call me.”
I work through the crowd methodically—library staff, regular patrons, and people who were browsing when the alarm went off. Most of them have similar stories—smelled smoke, heard the alarm, evacuated quickly.
Nobody saw anything suspicious. Nobody noticed anything unusual before the fire started.
Except for one elderly man who mentions seeing someone in a dark jacket near the east entrance around two-thirty. Can’t give me more details than that. Too far away, didn’t get a good look.
I’m interviewing a teenager who was studying in the reference section when I saw Rachel again.
She’s still with the paramedic, but now Tommy’s sitting on the back of the ambulance with an oxygen mask. She’s holding his hand, her face pale and tight.
I can’t stop myself from walking over.
The paramedic sees me coming. “She’s fine. Minor smoke inhalation, nothing serious. The kid, too.”
“Thanks.” I look at Rachel. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She nods, squeezing Tommy’s hand before stepping away from the ambulance.
We move a few feet away, out of earshot. Up close, I can see she’s shaking—her hands, her shoulders, everything about her vibrating with panic.
“Are you okay?” I ask, and the question comes out softer than I intended.
“I’m fine.” Her voice is steady, but her eyes tell a different story. “Tommy’s fine. We got out.”
“Rachel—”
“I know what you’re going to ask. Why was I here? What are the odds? How is it possible that I’m at two fires in such a short span?” She laughs. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“Aren’t you?” She meets my eyes. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks bad. A woman was at two separate fires. The internet’s probably already calling me a jinx. Now you show up with your notebook and your questions, and I’m supposed to believe you’re just checking on my well-being?”
“I am checking on your well-being. But I also need to know what you saw.”
She looks back at Tommy, who’s talking to the paramedic about his dragon book. “We came to get his book. He left it here last week. We found it, and we were leaving when I smelled smoke.”
“Where exactly were you when you smelled it?”
“Biography section. Near the back.” She wraps her arms around herself. “The smoke was coming from a door marked ‘Staff Only.’ Then the alarm went off.”
“Did you see anyone near that door? Anyone acting suspicious?”
“No. The library was almost empty. Just a few people browsing.” She pauses. “Dorothy was supposed to be here.”
That stops me. “Dorothy Williams?”
“She volunteers in the children’s section. Reads to kids on Tuesday afternoons.” Rachel’s voice cracks slightly. “She told me about it on Sunday. Said she’d be here today. But I didn’t see her in the crowd.”
I scan the lawn again. No elderly woman with a cane. No Dorothy.
“Maybe she called in sick,” I say, more to reassure Rachel than because I believe it.
“Maybe.” But she doesn’t sound convinced.
“I need you to think carefully. At the café fire, you were closing alone. Here, you came to get a book. Both times, you were in the building when the fire started. Is there any connection you can think of? Anyone who might want to hurt you? Anyone following you?”
“No. I don’t know.” She presses her hands to her face. “I don’t understand any of this. I’m just trying to get my life together, and buildings keep burning down around me.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“Tell that to the internet. Tell that to Derek’s lawyer, who’s going to use this as more evidence that I’m unstable.” She drops her hands. “I’m cursed, Marco. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
“You’re not cursed. You’re unlucky. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” She looks at me with those green eyes that are too full of fear and confusion. “Because right now it feels the same.”
I want to tell her it’ll be okay. Want to promise her that I’ll figure this out and keep her safe.
But I can’t promise that. Not when I don’t understand the pattern yet.
“Go home,” I say instead. “Take Tommy home. Get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow if I have more questions.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to interrogate me?”
“You’re not a suspect, Rachel. You’re a witness.” I meet her eyes. “And right now, you need to be with your son, not standing here breathing in smoke residue.”
She nods slowly. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not treating me like a criminal.”
I watch her walk back to Tommy and help him down from the ambulance. They head toward her car, and I force myself to look away before I do something stupid like offer to drive them home myself.
Hayes’ voice crackles over the radio. “Scene is clear. Structure’s safe for investigation.”
Finally.
I grab my kit and head toward the building.
The interior smells like burnt plastic and paper. The main library is mostly intact, with smoke damage and water from the hoses, but structurally sound. The real damage is in the back.
The staff storage room is a disaster.
Shelves collapsed, boxes of supplies reduced to ash. The walls blackened with soot. But the burn patterns tell me everything I need to know.
I crouch near the doorway and examine the floor. Clear pour patterns. Accelerant splashed across the floor in deliberate lines, then ignited. The fire burned hot and fast, feeding on the cardboard boxes and paper supplies.
This wasn’t an accident. This wasn’t faulty wiring or a burning cigarette.
Someone set this fire.
I take photos of the burn patterns from multiple angles. Document the pour marks. Collect samples of the residue for lab analysis.
The similarities to the café fire are impossible to ignore. Same accelerant. Same technique. Same amateur execution, leaving obvious evidence behind.
But a different location. Different building ownership. Different time of day.
What’s the connection?
I move through the room methodically, checking for any evidence the arsonist might have left behind. Footprints in the ash. Discarded containers. Anything that might point to identity or motive.
Nothing. Whoever did this was careful enough not to leave obvious traces.
But they were sloppy enough to leave clear burn patterns.
Amateur. Or someone in a hurry.
My phone buzzes, a text from Phoebe.
Heard about the library fire. You need backup?
I type back: I’m good. Definitely arson. Similar to café fire.
Same perpetrator?
Possibly. Need lab results to confirm.
I’ll put a rush on the samples from the café. See if we can match the accelerant.
I pocket my phone and take one last look around the storage room.
Two fires. Two different locations. One woman and her son were present at both.
The coincidence is too big to ignore. Either she’s the unluckiest person in Millbrook Falls, or there’s a pattern I’m not seeing yet.
I finish documenting the scene and head back outside. The crowd’s thinned out—most of the witnesses have given their statements and gone home. The fire trucks are packing up. Hayes is coordinating the final equipment checks.
I find him near Engine 47. “Scene’s all yours. I’m done for now.”
“Find anything?”
“Arson. Clear accelerant use. I’ll have a full report by tomorrow.”
He nods. “This town’s had more fires in the past month than we usually see in a year. Any theories?”
“Working on it.” I glance at Cole and Theo loading hoses onto the truck. “Your crew did good work. Could’ve been a lot worse.”
“Yeah. We got lucky.” He follows my gaze. “That woman with the kid—she was at the café fire too, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s rough. Wrong place, wrong time. Twice.”
“Or something else.”
Hayes looks at me sharply. “You think she’s involved?”
“I think there’s a pattern I need to figure out.” I close my notebook. “But right now, I don’t have enough information to know what it is.”
I head back to my truck and sit in the driver’s seat with the engine off.
Two fires. Same accelerant. Same technique. Different locations.
Rachel was at both.
The coincidence is too big to ignore. Either she’s the unluckiest person in Millbrook Falls, or there’s a pattern I’m not seeing yet.
Someone’s setting fires in this town. Someone with a target or a grudge or a reason I haven’t uncovered yet.
And somehow, Rachel Morgan keeps ending up in the blast radius.
Which means either she’s the target, or she’s a witness to something she doesn’t even know she saw.
Either way, she’s in danger.
And I need to figure out why before the next fire happens.