Chapter Fourteen
“Good morning, Chief. Didn’t you already get enough of us this week?”
“I don’t know about you, Chief, but if it were my day off, I’d be at home, cuddling with my pups, and nowhere close to here.” She continued past him to the side of the truck but glanced back over her shoulder. “But I guess that’s why you’re chief, and I’m cleaning the truck.”
He chuckled since it was easier than admitting that he had nothing to do all day other than buy some furniture or linens or even a single saucepan and a bowl. Those things he would put off as long as he could after Davison’s reminder that his job was contingent.
“If you ever want to switch places…”
She’d rested the camera on a tarp and was opening a compartment on the side of the truck to stow the ax, but she glanced back at him, grinning.
“With all that’s gone on around here lately? I’ll have to decline your kind offer.” She tucked the equipment inside the storage area and closed the door.
“Who’s throwing around promises now?”
Mick startled at the sound of a second female voice coming from behind him.
He turned to find a sturdy-looking woman with short blonde hair, a bucket of cleaners and a deep frown.
Her eyes widened when she recognized him.
Since there were only two women on the crew, he didn’t need the embroidered name, Garritt, on her shirt to place her, but he hadn’t expected to see both of them on the same shift.
“Sorry, Chief. I didn’t know you were here today.”
“Just stopped by.”
“I’m Emily Garritt.” She extended the arm that didn’t have a bucket hanging from it. Then noticing the rubber glove she still wore, she lowered it. “We can shake hands later.”
“Nice to meet you, Garritt. I still haven’t met most of the paid-on-call firefighters yet.” He glanced around the room, noting several familiar faces from earlier in the week. “Are you covering for someone today?”
“McMillan had a death in the family.”
“Right. I knew that.”
As distracted as he’d been on the job all week, he was surprised he remembered any of the information he’d been given that didn’t relate to Rachel Hoffman or her family.
“Well, they aren’t going to scrub themselves, so…” Emily reached in the bucket and waved a toilet brush before disappearing through the door that led to the day room and the locker rooms.
Mick watched her through the glass as she disappeared down the hall.
“Don’t mind her, Chief. She didn’t know until she got here that it was McMillan’s assignment to clean the locker rooms,” Felicia said, with a chuckle. “Seems she draws that short straw on nearly every shift she covers.”
“Probably thinks he planned that funeral so he could skip his turn.”
Felicia’s grin faded. “Um, also, she’s been trying to get on full-time for a while.”
He glanced through the window to the now empty hallway. “How long’s that?”
“A while,” she repeated.
Mick mentally added Garritt’s record to the list of files he would need to examine on Monday.
Beyond those in the Riley Hoffman camp, who didn’t want Mick anywhere near Station 1, he kept finding situations where some of his crew had their own axes to grind, legitimately or not.
How could he figure out who inside the station might have had a reason to target Rachel’s brother when several could have had a motive?
Movement nearby startled him, and he shifted, finding Felicia still watching him, a suspicious grin on her face.
“She’s involved with someone if that’s what you’re wondering. Me, too.” She pointed to her wedding band. “Though this is marriage No. 2 for me.”
Mick’s face heated as he stuck his hands in his coat pockets.
Felicia threw back her head and laughed. “Lighten up, boss. We all got the memos about this being a romance-free zone.”
“Good.” He coughed into his jacket sleeve, wishing she would stop watching him.
Even if the former chief’s sister didn’t count in any bans on same-shift dating—Rachel and he weren’t involved, either—he had to plant his boots on the floor to keep from shifting his feet.
“Glad I won’t have to write up another memo on Monday. ”
His chuckle probably sounded strained, but it was the best he could do.
“We all know you’re just trying to figure us out, Chief. We’re doing the same thing with you.” Felicia grinned, then shrugged. “Outsiders. You get it.”
Mick nodded, trying to ignore the shiver that slithered through him.
Just as Felicia retrieved the thermal imaging camera and rounded the end of the truck to store it in a different compartment, David List exited the same door through which Emily had disappeared only moments before.
The firefighter wore street clothes and carried a gym bag along with his coat. His neatly combed hair was still wet.
“Hey, Chief.” David tilted his head. “Isn’t this your—”
“I know. It’s my day off. Just checking in.”
“About the fire last night, huh?”
They both knew the answer to that, so Mick didn’t bother making up something. “You the last one going off shift?”
“Yeah, Garritt told me to get out so she could clean the locker room.” He widened his eyes. “That girl is intense.”
At Mick’s hard look, the younger man stared at the floor. “Sorry, boss. I mean woman. And…hardworking?”
Since the firefighter offered the last as a question, Mick shook his head.
Emily probably had reasons to be resentful about her situation in the department that had nothing to do with Mick’s arrival or Riley’s firing.
And some of her fellow crew had to be some of them.
But that would have to be a discussion for another day.
“You headed home?” he asked David instead.
His shoulders visibly relaxed. “Drive-through breakfast and then bed.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“Sure, boss.” His gaze remained cautious as he slid on his coat.
Once outside, Mick had to force himself not to pounce as they walked together toward the other man’s mini SUV. “So, last night’s call…?”
“Really, it wasn’t much different than any of the other ones lately.
” David pursed his lips and moved his head back and forth as though considering.
“Except that it was another abandoned house. Though, of course, we didn’t know that going in.
As Chief Hoffman always said, ‘There’s no such thing as an abandoned building—’”
“Until you search it,” Mick finished for him. “We all say that.”
“Yeah. Sorry for bringing him up.”
“Park gave me most of the details last night.” Mick lied smoothly while changing the subject. In truth, the captain had provided only basic details. “Anything else interesting about the call?”
He shook his head. “Burn patterns that suggest the fire was intentionally set. That’s about it. We took photos of the crowd. Just the neighbors. It’s kind of becoming routine.”
“We can’t ever think like that, List,” Mick said. “If we do, we’ll get sloppy, and someone will get hurt.”
“You’re right. We’ve been lucky so far.” David pulled out his key fob and hit the button. With a wave, the firefighter climbed in his vehicle and drove from the parking lot.
As Mick watched him until his taillights disappeared, a question repeated in his head: Was it luck?
Or was whoever had been setting these fires just playing with them until they became complacent?
Would they then escalate to something bigger and more tragic than the loss of garages full of possessions or vacant property?
The hard lump in his gut and the sour taste in his mouth told him he knew that answer.
* * *
All that planning for nothing. He picked through the rubble in broad daylight now that the fire investigators had finished digging around at the scene and had packed up their tools and gone home.
They wouldn’t be able to track him, anyway.
He was too good at this. His methods too methodical.
That new fire chief wouldn’t have some smug quote to say about his work like he had on the newspaper’s website.
Though he was dying to know what mistake had been made at that scene, he knew better than to ask too many questions.
He couldn’t risk looking curious, not after the little mishap with his car.
What that Prentiss guy had said was probably bullshit, anyway. The police had nothing. Just like with all the other fires.
This time was supposed to be different, though. Perfection. Like the ones on the big screen. Sure, the flames had been sweet. Eventually. After a slow start though linseed oil played a part in that. It was supposed to delay the burn. Not make it that slow.
Only when it took off like Independence Day, there was no crowd for the oohs and aahs.
And, damn it, he deserved some of those.
Instead, it had been like a cherry bomb soaked in the bathtub.
A fricking dud. Hell, if the neighbors hadn’t worried that the fire would eventually reach their properties, they probably wouldn’t have called it in at all.
He kicked at the pile of muck with his boot, but there was nothing solid enough for even a good thunk or a stubbed toe. Just messy, smelly sludge. At this moment, he would have appreciated the pain.
Now he would have to start over again. Thinking.
Planning. For something bigger, he hoped.
Better. Closer to town. Maybe with casualties.
Yes, that sounded better. That would teach certain people for not giving him or his work its proper due.
It took an awful lot to make a headline these days in Mount Isabel.
But he would show them that he still could, and he had a good idea where to do it.