Chapter 5
Lena was already pulling Webb's colleague contact list from her printer when Erin walked through the precinct doors at eight sharp, two coffee cups balanced in her hands.
"Black, one sugar," Erin said, setting a cup on Lena's desk without ceremony. "I figured we'd both need the caffeine."
"Thanks." Lena accepted the cup and took a long sip, appreciating the practical gesture. "I've got five former building safety department colleagues we need to interview today."
Erin pulled up a chair to review the list. "Any of them still work in the area?"
“Three are still local.” Lena pointed to names on the list. “Two moved out of state after the department was restructured.”
"Was the list cross-referenced with the fire dates?" Erin asked, scanning the list.
"Of course." Lena spread out the timeline. "Anyone with access to Webb's reports had motive if they were taking kickbacks or covering up violations he documented."
They settled into the work with the kind of intense focus that came from finally having solid leads. Lena pulled out the contact information and spread the papers across her desk.
“Todd Varo, former building inspector,” Lena read, tapping his file. “Lives in Oceanview and retired last year. He’d have worked directly with Webb’s reports.”
“Nicole Hopson at the city planning office.” Erin traced the address with her finger. “She would’ve processed every violation that Webb documented.”
Lena’s instinct was to divide and conquer so they could cover more interviews and gather vital information faster. But before she could suggest it, Erin spoke up.
“We should interview them together,” Erin said. “Two perspectives means a better chance of catching inconsistencies and subtle clues if someone’s lying.”
Lena considered this. Yesterday had proven they could work effectively as a team, and Webb’s former colleagues might be more forthcoming if they saw the fire department and police department taking the investigation seriously.
“Plus,” Erin continued, “you know how to read people for deception, and I understand the technical side of what Webb would’ve been documenting.”
“Fair point.” Lena stacked the files into their respective piles, her movements efficient and purposeful. “Todd first, then Nicole. If we’re lucky, one of them knows more than they’re letting on.”
“You think someone’s hiding something?” Erin asked as they gathered their materials.
“I always think that someone’s hiding something.” Lena grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. “In this case, I hope I’m right.”
The morning air was crisp as they walked toward Lena’s car, both carrying the anticipation that came with new leads. Four fires, escalating danger, and now they had names and addresses of people who might actually have answers.
The first interview was in Oceanview, a twenty-minute drive that felt longer with the weight of unspoken tension filling Lena's car. She focused on the road while Erin reviewed Todd's file.
Todd Varo lived in a tidy bungalow three blocks from the ocean, with salt-weathered shutters and a garden that had seen better days. He answered the door in a bathrobe, coffee mug in hand, looking like retirement agreed with him.
"I was a building inspector for thirty-two years," he said, settling into a worn leather chair. "Worked with Marcus Webb during his last three years before I retired. Good kid. Thorough."
Lena leaned forward. "Did Webb ever mention concerns about his reports being ignored? Any buildings that should have been condemned but weren't?"
"Oh, sure. It happened all the time." Todd waved dismissively. "Developers with connections and property owners who knew which palms to grease knew how to sidestep the system. Marcus got frustrated, but that's the job."
"Any specific cases?" Erin asked. "Were there buildings that made him particularly angry?"
Todd scratched his stubbled chin as he thought. "The old community center on Maple Street. As I recall, Marcus flagged serious electrical issues and recommended immediate closure. The property owner threw a fit and went over our heads."
Lena's pulse quickened. That was fire number two. "Do you remember the property owner's name?"
"Davis something. Or Davidson?" Todd shrugged. "I was already halfway out the door by then. Didn't pay much attention to the politics."
They spent another twenty minutes pressing for details Todd didn't have. He'd been fishing in Mexico when all four fires happened. Solid alibi, but useless information.
Nicole Hopson was their second interview, a harried woman in her fifties who worked out of a cluttered home office. She processed violation reports for the city planning department and remembered Webb's reports coming across her desk regularly.
"He was very detailed," she said, pulling files from an overflowing cabinet. "Some inspectors just check boxes, but Marcus wrote novels. Every violation documented, every recommendation explained."
"Who had access to those reports once you processed them?" Lena asked.
"The building commissioner's office, the mayor's office, sometimes the fire department for safety assessments. Anyone with proper clearance could request copies."
Erin exchanged a look with Lena. "How many people would that be?"
"Dozens. Maybe more." Nicole spread her hands helplessly. "The system wasn't exactly secure. Half the time people just called and asked for files verbally."
By the time they tried calling their third interview—a former building official who'd moved to San Diego six months ago—Lena's jaw was clenched tight enough to crack teeth. Every lead made the suspect pool larger, not smaller. Everyone’s answers revealed how easy it would have been for someone to access Webb's reports and use them to target vulnerable buildings.
The drive between interviews grew quieter as the afternoon wore on. Erin stopped offering encouraging commentary, and Lena stopped pretending she wasn't ready to put her fist through something.
"This is pointless," Lena said as they walked back to her car after the San Diego call had gone to voicemail for the third time. "We're chasing ghosts."
"We're eliminating suspects," Erin replied, but her voice lacked its usual optimism. "That's still progress."
"Is it?" Lena slammed the car door harder than necessary. "Because it feels like we're spinning our wheels while this bastard plans his next fire."
They drove back toward Phoenix Ridge in silence, the late afternoon sun dappling the sky the color of flames.
There were four fires, too many potential suspects, and a community growing more frightened every day.
Lena had built her career on solving cases and protecting people.
This investigation was making her feel helpless, and she hated it.
"I need a drink," she said as they passed Lavender's.
"It's barely seven," Erin pointed out, but Lena was already pulling into the parking lot.
Lavender's evening crowd was settling in—couples sharing quiet conversations, regulars nursing craft beers, and soft acoustic music that made everything feel temporarily safe. Lavender herself greeted them with raised eyebrows.
"You two look like you've been through a blender," she said, leading them to a corner table. "Wine?"
"Please," Lena said.
Lavender returned with a bottle of red and two glasses, then walked away without probing further. The wine was good, dry and warming. Lena drank half her glass in three swallows.
"Better?" Erin asked.
"No." Lena stared into her wine. "We're failing, Erin. Every day we don't catch this person is another day someone could die."
"We're building a profile and gathering evidence. It takes time."
"Tell that to whoever's going to be in the next burning building." Lena's voice was sharper than she intended. "Tell that to the kids who lost their community space or to the people who can't feel safe in their own neighborhood."
Erin's eyes flashed. "What else do you want us to do? We're following every lead and interviewing every possible connection. We can't manufacture evidence that doesn't exist."
"Maybe that's the problem." Lena leaned forward. "Maybe we're too focused on following, not anticipating."
"Anticipating what? The arsonist hasn't left us a roadmap, Lena. We have to work with what we have."
"Do we?" Lena's frustration boiled over. "Because what we have isn't working. After four fires and dozens of hours investigating, we're no closer to catching this person than we were when this started."
"That's not true—"
“Isn’t it?” Lena stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “We keep telling ourselves we’re making progress, but what if we’re just chasing our tails? What if we’re missing something obvious because we’re too busy being systematic?”
Erin stood, too, matching her intensity. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re the one who wanted to wait for evidence instead of following hunches, remember?”
Erin’s words hit home. Lena had dismissed Erin’s instincts early on, insisting on proper procedure, and refused to consider theories without proof. Now, their careful approach felt like watching the city burn in slow motion.
“Maybe I was wrong,” Lena said, her voice dropping lower. “Maybe we should have—”
“Should have what?” Erin said as she stepped closer, close enough that Lena could see the gold flecks in her eyes. “Followed every wild theory? Arrested people without evidence? That’s not how this works.”
“Then maybe the way this works is broken.”
They were standing too close now, their voices raised but not quite shouting. Other patrons were giving them space, pretending not to watch the obvious tension crackling between them.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Lena said.
The words hung in the air, ambiguous and loaded. Erin’s expression shifted, confusing replacing anger.
“Do what, Lena? Your job? Work with me?” Erin’s voice dropped to match hers. “Because if this partnership isn’t working…”
“No, it’s not—” Lena stopped, frustrated with herself, with the case, with everything. “I can’t keep…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t find the words for the way Erin challenged her, made her question everything, made her feel off-balance in ways that had nothing to do with the investigation.
“Keep what?” Erin whispered.
They were breathing hard, staring at each other across two feet of charged space. The argument had stripped away their careful professional masks, leaving them raw and exposed. Lena could hear her own pulse in her ears and taste the wine and frustration on her tongue.
Words failed her entirely.
“Screw it,” she said, and she closed the distance between them.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was fierce, desperate, and claiming as weeks of tension and professional tiptoeing exploded into this moment. Lena’s hands found Erin’s face, her fingers threading in Erin’s soft hair as she pressed closer, tasting red wine and desire on her lips.
For half a second, Erin froze. Then she was kissing back just as hard, her hands fisting in Lena’s jacket, pulling her closer despite the small table table between them. Every careful boundary they’d maintained shattered all at once.
When they broke apart for air, they stared at each other. Erin’s green eyes were dark, her lips swollen, and her hair mussed where Lena’s fingers had tangled in it. She looked shocked and perfectly undone.
Lena felt equally stunned by her own actions. She’d kissed Erin Vance. In Lavender’s. In front of half the Phoenix Ridge lesbian community.
Movement in her peripheral vision reminded her they weren't alone. Lavender was watching from behind the bar with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile. Other patrons were pretending not to stare while very obviously staring.
"Not here," Erin whispered, apparently reaching the same conclusion.
They stood in wordless agreement, Lena dropping bills on the table without counting them. The walk to the parking lot felt endless and immediate all at once, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the heat still crackling between them.
The moment they reached Lena's car, parked in the shadows at the edge of the lot, Erin turned and pressed her back against the driver's side door. "Lena—"
Lena kissed her again, slower this time but no less intense. Erin's hands found her waist, then her neck, fingers warm against her skin. The taste of her was intoxicating—wine and something uniquely Erin that made Lena want to memorize every detail.
They broke apart again, breathing hard. Erin's head fell back against the car window, exposing the long line of her throat.
"What are we doing?" Erin asked, voice rough.
"I don't know." Lena's forehead dropped to rest against Erin's. "But I can't stop."
She proved it by kissing Erin again, soft and searching this time, hands braced against the car on either side of Erin's shoulders. The response was immediate, Erin's arms coming up to circle her neck, pulling her impossibly closer.
When gravel crunched nearby as someone approached their own car, they forced themselves apart. Both breathing hard, both looking at each other like they'd discovered something rare and dangerous.
"This changes everything," Lena said quietly.
"I know." Erin's thumb traced along Lena's collarbone where her shirt had come undone. "Do you regret it?"
Lena considered the question for exactly half a second. "No."
"Good." Erin's smile was soft and real. "Because I was about to do it myself if you hadn't."
The confession sent another wave of heat through Lena's system, but the sound of voices approaching from the café forced them to step apart. Professional boundaries, public places, and tomorrow's inevitable complications crashed back into focus.
"I should go," Erin said, though she made no move toward her own car.
"You should," Lena agreed, not stepping back.
They stared at each other for another long moment before Erin finally pushed away from the car. "See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Lena's voice came out rougher than intended. "Tomorrow."
Erin walked to her car, looking back once before getting in. Lena waited until she'd driven away before sliding into her own driver's seat, hands shaking slightly as she gripped the steering wheel.
She sat there for several minutes, fingers touching her lips where she could still taste the kiss.
Tomorrow they'd have to face what this meant for the case, for their professional relationship, and for everything they'd been carefully building.
Tomorrow there would be consequences and conversations and complications neither of them were prepared for.
But tonight, driving home with the taste of Erin still on her tongue and the memory of her hands warm against her skin, Lena couldn't bring herself to care about any of it.
The attraction had been there, growing quietly, and now there was no denying it. Whatever complications this created, whatever conversations they'd need to have, that could wait until tomorrow.