Chapter 28
28
Elliot Crane
I’m going to spend the night at Henry’s.
Seth Mays
Everything okay?
Haven’t spent much time with him recently.
Okay. I’ll be at home if you need me.
I’d expected the happy glow of Thanksgiving to last, but it hadn’t. At all.
Elliot had been surly the next morning, and he clearly wasn’t interested in talking about why. And it hadn’t gotten better the morning after that, either. He’d sullenly gone over to help Henry with something this morning, so I took the opportunity of Elliot being under someone else’s supervision to go in to the office to try to get caught up on paperwork, even though it was a holiday weekend.
I was also not expecting that I’d actually get all four days off—the fact that I’d gotten through Thanksgiving and the day after without getting called in was, quite frankly, shocking. I’d even texted Lacy the day before to ask if I’d missed something.
She’d taken one accident, and Roger had apparently gotten the next one, so whatever happened third, she told me, was my problem. I couldn’t help but think that if it had been Richmond, I’d have been at my sixth or seventh scene by this point. I wondered if it was because most people went to their families in other towns.
I mean, sure, we’d gone three or four days before without a death or crime scene that needed CSI attendance, but I was used to holidays that were more like Halloween than the average Wednesday night.
I was finishing up my paperwork while alternately stewing about the fact that Elliot—despite claiming otherwise—had to be upset with me about something when my phone rang. I guess the streak was over.
“Mays here,” I answered it, recognizing the number as belonging to Lieutenant Colfax.
“I’m sending you an address,” the orc replied. “Get here.”
I pulled onto a gravel track leading into what looked like a dirt racetrack—the place was clearly closed, and I could immediately see that a fuel tank and what looked like a couple outbuildings were the source of the smoke I’d seen from the highway. There were two trucks there already, plus an ambulance.
I pulled up behind Colfax’s department-issued SUV, wincing as I slid out of the Sheriff’s Department truck. I wondered if maybe there wasn’t a knee brace I could get to help—especially as I trudged over to where Colfax was standing, watching as both trucks pumped water onto a structure that seemed to have been a concessions building at some point in its life. The thing next to it—judging from the smell of disinfectant and burnt urinal cakes—had been the bathrooms.
“How’s the nose feeling?” Colfax asked me.
“Are you asking me if I’m ready to walk around two buildings that now smell like wet burnt everything, as well as food and shit, respectively, to figure out if there was an accelerant used?”
Colfax barked out a laugh. “I like you, Mays. And yes.”
“Not looking forward to it, to be honest,” I replied. “But that’s the job.”
Colfax nodded once. “Good man.” The orc looked over at the buildings, the flames now barely visible, although smoke and steam still roiled from gaps in their roofs. “Get started with as much of the scene as you can with us in the way, and when it’s safe, you can do your sniff-test.”
“I’m going to need light and no fire truck in the way,” I informed the lieutenant. “If you want me to have any hope of finding anything.” I scanned the scene. “Although, to be honest, between the water and the team, I very much doubt I’m going to be able to find anything useful, like tire tracks or footprints.”
Colfax grunted. “So you’re not going to survey the scene?”
“I will,” I replied. “Once they’re done and it’s light out—or someone brings in giant floodlights.”
I hadn’t quite finished my firefighter training—so I was not allowed to touch anything on the trucks or work the hose, just as I wasn’t allowed to actually make the official determination of arson by myself. Colfax’s name would be the one on the form, and I was sure the orc would be tailing me and making sure I knew what I was doing, while also taking advantage of the fact that I knew my way around a crime scene, just in case this was one.
They also didn’t need me to help—the team clearly had the fire under control, even if it wasn’t out yet, and if I tried to do anything, I’d only be in the way. So I stayed standing next to Colfax, trying to subtly shift my weight to keep my knee from getting too angry without looking like I was fidgeting. If Colfax noticed, they didn’t say anything.
As I waited for the fire team to finish extinguishing the fire, I regretted not yet having bought fire boots—I was trying to save up the money rather than putting it on a credit card and not paying it off completely, since that came with interest
After a while Colfax wandered off, telling me to stay put, coming back with a pair of massive rubber boots. I toed off a shoe to stick my foot in it and grimaced a little at the tightness. Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.
“You’ll want to get a pair,” the orc told me.
I nodded. “It’s on my list,” I said. A lot of things were on my list, not that I could afford most of them. Or any of them, actually.
“It better be pretty high on that list if we keep having to call you,” Colfax pointed out, leaving unsaid the fact that not having the right gear for walking through smoldering ashes could do a lot of damage.
I mentally moved it up, wondering which things I could do without in order to be able to afford the hundreds of dollars it would take to get a decent pair for my giant feet. “Yes, lieutenant,” was what I said, staring down at the borrowed boots that were pinching my feet.
“Let’s go, Mays.”
I followed the orc toward the husk of the concession building, steam and smoke still rising from the ashes around us, making it uncomfortably warm. It wasn’t surprising—we were walking on debris that had just been on fire, after all—but that didn’t make it any more pleasant.
“Start sniffing, Mays,” Colfax ordered.
“Yes, lieutenant.”
I’d learned, since the chlorhexidine incident last spring, how to smell correctly in order to not burn out my entire sinus cavity. Shallow breaths, slow and steady, to see if there was anything to smell.
Not that it was particularly easy to smell anything other than burnt wood, charred cement, melted plastic, warped metal, and hot oil, among other things. Including burned meat and cheese, both strong enough that it was clear they’d been fully stocked.
Colfax watched me as I paced the length of the far wall, slowly working my way through the building—until I stopped next to what I think must have been a fryer. I looked over at Colfax. “Any reason you can think of that someone would be using gasoline near a fryer?”
Colfax walked over and took a deep sniff. An orc’s sense of smell is almost as good as a shifter’s, and it was strong enough that I assumed the lieutenant would also be able to mark it. “I have a suggestion,” Colfax said dryly.
“Is it arson?” I asked, just as flatly.
“Might be,” came the reply. “Let’s check the other one, just in case.”
I sighed. As unpleasant as burnt kitchens smell, burnt shit smells worse.