Chapter 6
BUCK
I already know what to expect when I arrive at Elena’s in the early hours of the morning, but I’m not prepared for the physical response I have when I see the emergency vehicles surrounding her house.
Ignoring the heavy ache in my chest, I park and find Elena standing next to a patrol car talking to Officer Hanks. The back door of the cruiser is open, and T.J.’s sitting inside, wrapped in a blanket and clutching a stuffed animal, his eyes wide as he watches men going in and out of the house.
Elena’s wearing a coat, obviously given to her by one of the firefighters, that’s so large it covers the top half of her pajama pants. There are rubber boots on her feet that also look like they came from the crew.
I give Elena and Hanks a nod, but don’t interrupt. Instead, I crouch down next to T.J. “Hey, I’m Marshal Brennan. How’re you doing, buddy?”
He stares back at me for a few seconds, then says, “I’m okay.”
“Does your throat hurt?”
The boy shakes his head. “The firemen asked me that. I feel all right. Mom was coughing, but she’s better now.”
“What’s your friend’s name?” I tip my head toward the stuffed toy.
A pause. “Hopper.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Hopper. I heard you both did a great job getting out of the house quickly. Are you warm enough?”
The boy nods again as his eyes focus behind me, where one of the guys is rolling up a hose.
With T.J. secure and Elena still answering questions, I straighten and head to the house.
The porch is slick with frost, and the air is clean and cold, but inside, it’s warm and damp with a sour chemical tang that clings to the back of my throat.
Water tracks across the hardwood in the living room, and the furniture where I’d sat just two days ago is speckled with soot.
Smoke has put a film on everything, as if the house was dipped in dirty water. The den is the worst of it, a blackened mess of collapsed shelving, charred boxes, and glossy melted plastic fused to wood.
There’s one man still in the house and another who follows me in. “Stay out of the den unless you need to,” I tell them. “If something looks staged, don’t touch it.”
They both give me quick nods.
From the doorway of the den, my gaze catches on things that didn’t burn like they should have, items pushed aside in a clear lane, as if someone made space to do something precise. I think back to Elena’s crumbled folder in the school administrative building, and the hair on my arms lifts.
I move deeper into the house, but only along the clean edges, and just enough to read the access and how the smoke traveled. I’ll come back with a camera before I put a boot in the origin area.
The bedroom wing is clear, but the smoke line high on the walls sends a chill through me.
At the back of the house, the kitchen floor is gritty with soot, where the crew tracked through, and the trail gets thicker in the mudroom. On the outside of the back door, there are fresh scratches around the lock, and the deadbolt plate is bent in a way that makes my molars grind.
“Tape off the back door. Keep the traffic out of here,” I tell the man trailing me. “I want photos before we touch anything.”
He reaches for his radio as I step outside, my lungs tight and my jaw set.
Out front, Elena looks like she’s holding herself together by sheer will as she talks with the officer. I stay a few yards away and push back an inconvenient urge to take her in my arms and tell her everything’s going to be all right.
When they wrap up their conversation and the officer moves off, I step close enough to Elena that my words won’t carry. “The fire was contained to the den. It didn’t run through the walls.”
“Was everything in there destroyed?” Her face crumples at the thought, but she quickly straightens her features and her posture.
“No, not everything,” I say. “But a lot of what was in that room took a hit. After I do my job, we can take inventory together.”
She nods, one arm wrapped across her chest, her teeth chattering despite the big coat.
“We need to get you a blanket—”
As I’m heading to the firetruck to retrieve one, a familiar civilian SUV rolls up and parks along the curb. Former mayor Mae Whitaker steps out with a folded blanket under her arm and a thermos in her hand.
“Where are they? Is everyone okay?”
Elena waves her hand to get her attention. “Mae, over here. We’re okay.”
Relief washes over the older woman’s face, which is free of the makeup she usually wears, and its absence makes her look vulnerable. Her hair is under a crocheted hat, and she’s wearing an oversized gray parka instead of her trademark red coat.
Her presence is still commanding, though, as she wraps the blanket around Elena’s shoulders. “Thank goodness! Dispatch said the occupants were out, but I needed to see it with my own eyes.”
“You heard about the fire already?”
“Of course. In this town, news runs as fast as the fire trucks.”
Elena lifts her wrist, where there’s no watch, then pulls her phone from the pocket of her pajama pants. “At four in the morning?”
“This is practically midday when you’re my age.” Mae peers into the cruiser and waves at T.J., then hands him the thermos, telling him it’s hot chocolate, and reassuring Elena that it’s not too hot.
The other night, Elena told me she rents this house from Mae, but the woman is clearly more concerned about the occupants than her property. She’s barely glanced at the structure.
She fusses over the two of them for several minutes before coming over to me. “What’s the status inside, Buck? Looks like I’ve missed all the action.”
“Not livable tonight. Direct fire damage was contained to the den, but there’s smoke contamination throughout. I’ll have a better idea after it airs out.” In case Mae is thinking the fire might be Elena’s fault, I add, “Fairly sure someone broke in through the back door. We’ll be investigating.”
One of Mae’s brows lifts, then her eyes narrow. “We have an arsonist in town?”
“It looks that way.”
Not one to be seen gossiping, even though she knows everything that goes on in Moon Ridge, Mae simply nods, as if I’d told her about the weather forecast instead of a crime pattern, and turns to Elena. “You and T.J. are coming to my house. Let’s get you out of the cold.”
Elena opens her mouth to protest, but quickly realizes they can’t sleep in the house, and it needs to stay clear while I look for clues to help us find the person who did this.
“I don’t want to impose,” Elena says, but Mae ignores her.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she calls out to T.J. “You and your mom are coming to my place for a sleepover.”
“Why don’t you go warm up at Mae’s,” I tell Elena. “I’ll be here all day. Come back over after you get some rest.”
Still clutching Hopper tightly, T.J. says, “I don’t have shoes.” He sticks his feet out from under the blanket, wiggling his toes in oversize wool socks I also recognize from department supplies.
Before I can say anything about the availability of items in their house, Mae tells Elena and T.J. she has clothing from her grandkids on hand that will work in the short term.
Mae turns toward her car, but then pivots back to me. “Buck.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
She points her chin at the house. “You do whatever you need to do, and make sure no one walks off with what doesn’t belong to them.”
“Will do.” I’m half tempted to salute the formidable old woman.
Elena picks up T.J. to carry him to Mae’s car, and when he’s in her arms, resting his tired head on her shoulder, I’m hit with an overwhelming desire to hold Elena the same way she’s holding him, like she can keep the world out.
I’m determined more than ever to protect both her and T.J.
from whatever evil is taunting them, and when she gives me a small, weary smile before she goes, I realize this isn’t just about duty anymore.