Chapter 4 #2
"That's the interesting part." Lena's voice had dropped slightly as she focused on the paper she held. "Every location had noted fire safety deficiencies that were never corrected. There were outdated electrical systems, insufficient fire suppression, and blocked access to utilities."
Erin studied the reports, cross-referencing them with her burn pattern analysis. "The arsonist exploited every single one of these vulnerabilities. Look"—she pointed to a diagram—”the accelerant placement at the warehouse directly targeted the electrical panel Webb flagged as non-compliant."
"And the library fire started in the exact section where Sandra Lyston noted improper wiring." Lena turned the laptop screen toward Erin, their knees bumping under the small table. "Someone had access to these inspection reports and used them as a targeting guide."
The excitement of discovery was building between them, professional minds working in sync. Erin found herself leaning closer to see Lena's screen, both women absorbed in the data flowing across it.
"Can you pull up Webb's employment history?" Erin asked. "If he's working somewhere else now with access to building systems—"
"Already on it." Lena's fingers moved across the keyboard, pulling up personnel records.
"Marcus Webb, age thirty-four, worked for Phoenix Ridge Building Safety Services from 2019 to early 2023. Before that, residential construction. After, nothing official. There’s no current employer in the system. "
"That's odd." Erin reached for her own files. "Most people in building safety move between companies, not out of the field entirely."
"He could be working under the table. Cash jobs, private consulting, that sort of thing."
"Or planning arson attacks." Erin pulled Webb's inspection reports toward her, studying his handwriting and notation style. "His work was thorough. Maybe a little too thorough. He documented every weakness these buildings had."
They worked in focused silence as they studied documents and scribbled notes on a notepad.
"Detective." Erin's voice raised a pitch in excitement as she discovered something in Marcus Webb's notes."Look at these violation codes. He used non-standard notation."
Lena moved her chair closer to see better. "What do you mean?"
"Standard fire safety inspectors use numerical codes to denote the violations. But Webb added his own symbols." Erin pointed to tiny marks in the margins of his reports. "See these? They correspond exactly to the points where accelerants were placed in the fires."
Lena stared at the reports, then at Erin. "You're saying Webb created a map for the arsonist?"
"I'm saying someone who understands fire behavior used Webb's detailed documentation to plan these attacks. But whether that's Webb himself or someone who had access to his reports..."
"We need to find him." Lena's voice was sharp with urgency.
“Agreed. But if Webb left the field entirely, he might not be our arsonist. He might just be the source.”
“Which means we’re looking for someone who had access to his reports,” Lena said, following the logic.
“Or someone who worked alongside him.” Erin began stacking the inspection reports. “We need to look at current employees, former employees, and supervisors.”
"That's a lot of potential suspects, but it's more than we had this morning." Lena pulled up another screen on her laptop. "I have Webb's last known address from his employment records. It's about thirty minutes outside Phoenix Ridge."
Erin leaned closer to see the screen. "Think he's still there?"
"Only one way to find out." Lena glanced at her watch as she closed her laptop with a decisive click. "We could drive out there and see if he's around or if neighbors know where he went."
“Both of us?”
Lena shrugged. “Maybe you’ll catch something I miss or vice versa.”
As they began packing up their materials, Erin was increasingly more aware she’d just agreed to extend her collaboration with Lena beyond the office.
Twenty minutes later, they were in Lena's car, heading east through Phoenix Ridge's outskirts with case files in the back seat and the radio playing softly between them.
Erin had offered to drive, but Lena had already grabbed her keys, and now Erin found herself watching the landscape change as they navigated the winding road away from the coast.
Lena drove with controlled precision—her hands steady on the wheel, checking mirrors, and maintaining exactly the speed limit. It was reassuring evidence of the same careful attention to detail she brought to her investigative work.
"Webb's address is about another five minutes out," Lena said, breaking the quiet. Classic rock played low to fill the space, something with acoustic guitar. "Rural area, according to the GPS. It might be why he chose it."
"It’d be a good place to lie low," Erin agreed, counting the cars that passed them outside her window. They'd left Phoenix Ridge's coastal charm behind, trading ocean views for rolling hills dotted with oak trees. "Or to plan something without neighbors noticing."
The afternoon sun beamed through the windshield, casting shifting shadows across the dashboard as they wound through an increasingly dense forest. Erin found herself thinking about the case and about Webb's detailed inspection reports and the way someone had used his meticulous documentation as a roadmap for destruction.
"Can I ask you something?" Lena's voice was careful but curious. "What made you choose to be a fire marshal over firefighting? Most people want the action on the front lines."
The question surprised Erin. She'd expected to discuss the case during the drive, not drift toward personal territory.
"I thought about firefighting," she said slowly, watching the road wind around a patch of trees.
"My father was a firefighter. Watching how he approached fire safety made me realize I wanted to focus on prevention rather than response.
" She paused. "Everyone else runs toward the flames.
I wanted to understand what made them tick—the science behind how fires behave, why they spread, and what makes buildings vulnerable to flames. "
"That's very methodical thinking," Lena observed. "Understanding the problem before trying to solve it."
"Exactly. Prevention requires patience most people don't have." Erin found herself relaxing despite the personal nature of the conversation. "I've always been the person who wants to know how things work before trying to fix them."
"It’s different from my approach," Lena said. "I tend to chase the problem and figure it out as I go."
"That's not wrong either. It’s just different."
The words hung between them, an acknowledgment that they were talking about more than fire safety. They drove in comfortable silence for several minutes, the road straightening as they moved through open country.
"Speaking of methods," Erin said, "how do you usually approach witness interviews? I'm thinking Webb's neighbors might be more willing to talk if we have a strategy."
"Depends on the neighborhood," Lena replied, shifting slightly as she navigated a curve. "In rural areas like this, people are usually either very helpful or very suspicious of authority. We'll have to read the situation."
"What's our cover story if he's actually there?"
"We’ll ask follow-up questions about his work at the inspection company as part of a routine investigation into building safety practices." Lena glanced over. "You'd be the technical expert consulting on fire safety protocols."
"That works. Keeps it professional and gives us reason to ask detailed questions about his inspection methods."
They passed a weathered sign marking the county line, and Lena checked the GPS. "Two more miles. You ready for this?"
"Ready," Erin said, though she felt a flutter of nerves. This was her first real field interview for a criminal investigation. "Do you think he'll be cooperative?"
"If he's innocent, probably. If he's not..." Lena shrugged. "We'll find out soon enough."
The road curved ahead, leading toward a cluster of small houses set back among the trees. Whatever they found at Marcus Webb's address, Erin had the feeling this case was about to take another direction.
The GPS announced their turn, breaking the spell. They pulled onto a gravel road leading through sparse housing—small properties separated by fields and distance. Marcus Webb's address was a modest ranch house set back from the road, with an overgrown yard and mail spilling from an overflowing box.
"Doesn't look like anyone's home," Erin observed as they parked.
The house had that abandoned quality. Newspapers were yellowing on the porch, weeds grew through sidewalk cracks, and the curtains were drawn tight. They approached the front door together, but their knocking brought no response.
They walked the perimeter, checking for signs of recent habitation. The backyard revealed a garden gone to seed and some metal patio furniture covered in rust. Through a gap in the curtains, Erin could see furniture covered in dust.
"He's been gone for months," Erin said as they returned to the car.
"Let's try the neighbors."
The nearest house was a quarter-mile down the road, where an elderly woman in gardening gloves looked up from her flower beds. She was friendly but had little useful information. Webb had kept to himself, then left abruptly sometime last year with no forwarding address.
"He seemed like a nice enough young man," she said, wiping dirt from her hands. "Quiet, though. Never caused any trouble."
They thanked her and returned to Lena's car, both feeling the weight of the dead end. Webb was gone, had been gone for months, and they were no closer to finding him or understanding his connection to the fires.
"Well, that was productive," Lena said dryly as they settled back into the car.
"We learned he's not here," Erin pointed out. "That's something."