Chapter 9
Liv was exhausted from another scorching day at the fire academy. Her office in the Waverly County PD’s detective unit was brightly lit thanks to her adding a torch light at the side of her desk.
Michael stood and grabbed his suit jacket. “Don’t stay too late. Goodnight, Liv.”
“Night, Michael.” She smiled.
Her eyes fixed on the preliminary coroner”s reports for the glass vials. With the two dead bodies, she wasn’t able to take leave during the academy. The report revealed a chilling combination of contents: a smattering of human ash, broken teeth, and a cryptic note.A shiver ran down her spine. What are you telling us? she wondered.
She’d have to wait for more evidence. She’d already tried to light a proverbial fire under her sister. Liv wondered if the ash and teeth were related to each dead man. She turned her attention back to the messages. Were they meant as a taunt or a challenge to law enforcement? They left her with more questions than answers. Her gut churned. Would there be more deaths?
Taking a deep breath, Liv added the cases to VICAP, theViolent Criminal Apprehension Program, looking for similar cases. Shereached for her notebook and began researching the fictional phoenix. She’d run a computer search for any crimes involving the name Phoenix as well.
The radio call broke Liv’s concentration. There was a fire at Fiddler’s. Waverly Junction”s old saloon, transformed into a family-friendly restaurant, was a popular spot for both children and adults. It was precisely eight o”clock, and the place would be packed at this hour. Liv”s heart raced as she grabbed her jacket and hung her badge around her neck before rushing out of her office. A second large-scale fire in as many days. She hoped it was a coincidence, but somehow she knew it wasn’t.
As she made her way through the police department, the frenzied chatter coming from the police and fire department radios filled her ears. Fred Lamply was coordinating the FD response. The Waverly County Fire Department was on its way to the blaze.
Liv raced to her patrol car, sirens blaring as she sped toward Waverly Junction”s old-saloon-turned-restaurant. Billowing smoke floated on the horizon, ominous against the evening sky. Panic welled up inside her as she thought about the people who might be trapped inside.
As she drove, Liv could hear Jackson calling for assistance. “This is Captain Reynolds, Station 3. Fire fully involved. Multiple people trapped.”
His request continued, “Urgent: request fifth alarm. Fire at Fiddlers Restaurant in Waverly Junction. Requesting immediate assistance from neighboring departments. Also need a comprehensive EMS response—requesting all available ambulances. Please mobilize all available units to the scene.”
She’d never heard that kind of urgency in any firefighter’s requests since she was assigned to the unit. Not even the day of the nail salon bombing. Her foot pressed harder on the gas pedal. As she drove, Michael keyed up his radio that he was also responding.
Liv pulled up to the restaurant and momentarily froze at the sight of the building fully engulfed in flames. “This is Detective Everhart, request additional police response and municipal buses to transport the uninjured, and open the high school gym,” she went over the radio.
People were panicking and running in all different directions from the building. Her gut lurched as she saw the fear in the eyes of the restaurant’s customers and staff. The radio exploded with requests for additional police units to assist with crowd control and evacuation. The first to arrive at the scene began setting up a triage area.
Liv, along with other officers from Waverly County and Waverly Junction, began guiding people away from the danger and toward safety. The intense heat from the flames warmed her face, and the scent of burning wood and furnishings irritated her nostrils. She watched the firefighters struggle to clear the building of anyone left inside.
Her black sedan was parked a distance away, hidden among the trees in the poorly lit parking lot. “Cover for the arsonist,” she muttered. Liv popped the trunk, revealing her neatly organized gear. She swiftly began dressing, her police badge hanging under her turnout coat. She’d removed “police” from her gear to attend the fire academy.
With her gear on, Liv took a deep breath, choking on the humid air. Before she moved, she took a moment to watch the fire and the crowd. No one in the crowd seemed to be watching the fire except the firefighters and her freshly arrived partner. As she approached the front doors of the building, which were engulfed in flames, she spotted Jackson directing operations over the radio. Their eyes met briefly.
“Jackson, I know you”re short-handed,” Liv said, her voice determined and unwavering despite the scene unfolding around them. “What do you need?”
Jackson, still listening to radio chatter, turned to Liv with a grateful but tense expression. “We could use some extra hands outside the building. We”ve got people trapped on the upper floor, and we”re trying to contain the blaze. The chief was out of town and is on his way. Another engine is working a motor vehicle collision. I need someone to assist with crowd control outside. It”s bedlam out here.”
Liv nodded in understanding, her commitment to her dual roles unwavering. She adjusted her helmet. “Got it,” she replied, the blaze reflecting in her irises. “PD has the crowd managed.”
Jackson gave a nod of approval and went over the radio, requesting the team from one of adjoining town’s departments. “Livvy, can you join Spring Hill FD? We need extra support for exterior firefighting.” The strain was evident in his voice.
She turned toward the blazing inferno, offering a thumbs-up. She moved swiftly and with purpose. She had been through countless drills that morning, yet she’d never experienced anything like this. Her heavy boots stomped on the debris-strewn grounds as she joined the fire company from Spring Hill FD.
The flames sizzled hungrily, casting eerie, dancing shadows on the walls. The sound of wood creaking and metal groaning under the intense heat added to the unsettling atmosphere. As she helped man a hose line, she watched the fire. This one burned white-hot, and its flames felt alive. Like the theater fire, she saw similar pops of flame. She also caught an occasional whiff of garlic.
“Good to see you, Detective,” one of the firefighters from Jackson’s team said, his voice muffled through his breathing apparatus. His air alarm was ringing. “We”ve got reports of people trapped on the second floor. We’re changing out our bottles and going back in. Keep the water coming.”
Liv nodded in agreement and activated the channel on her fire radio to stay in contact with the other companies. Alongside the team from Spring Hill FD, she assisted with the exterior firefighting efforts at Fiddler”s Restaurant.
The roar of the blaze filled the air as Olivia and the Spring Hill team manned the hoses, their faces partially obscured by protective gear and masks. Intense heat radiated from the building.
“Open the lines! Let”s hit it hard!” the Spring Hill FD’s lieutenant’s voice pierced through the mess, guiding the coordinated attack on the fire. Olivia knew things were bad when they risked drowning the interior firefighters.
The hose company responded in unison, directing powerful jets toward the heart of the blaze. Streams of water arced through the air, hissing as they met the roaring fire, attempting to quench the flames.
Olivia worked tirelessly alongside the Spring Hill team, adjusting their positions, coordinating the water streams, and aiming to contain the fire”s spread.
* * *
The smoke was thick,making it difficult to see more than a foot in front of them. Unable to get more from the exhausted firefighters on a late summer night, Jackson handed over scene command to Turk, who had returned from home to help. It was a small town. Everyone who heard the alarm reported for assignments.
Jackson led a Firefighter Assist and Search Team (FAST) from Station 3 in a coordinated formation, checking each room for potential victims doing right-hand searches. In one apartment, they found an elderly couple huddled beneath a window in fear. Jackson had other firefighters quickly usher them to safety, providing reassurance and guidance as they helped them make their way out of the building. Using buddy breathing, their air masks offered a lifeline in the choking, toxic air.
In another apartment, they discovered a young child, coughing and crying, hidden under a bed. The child clung to Jackson, his trust in this stranger-turned-rescuer evident in his tearful eyes. Jackson was compelled to pull his fingers free from his turnout coat to hand the boy off to another firefighter. He’d find out how he got left behind another time.
The team encountered several other trapped residents. The second floor was finally cleared of trapped victims just as flames began to burn through the floors like erupting volcanos.
“It’s getting hot up here.” Jackson’s voice cut through the noise and confusion, calling for an evacuation. “Evacuate! Everyone, get out now!” His command echoed through the radio and spread to the entire team.
Running for the stairwell, Jackson and the team descended the smoking wooden steps. As they reached the halfway point, the structure, weakened by their weight and the fire, gave way. A deafening crash filled the air as their footing disappeared from under them.
In an instant, they found themselves careening through mid-air. The six firefighters jumped the final seven feet and rolled to the ground below. The landing was jarring. Jackson felt it in his jaw.
The sound of their equipment crashing and boots hitting the ground reverberated.
Dust and debris settled around them. They had no time to check for injuries. The building was collapsing around them. Grabbing on to each other, they ran for the exit, making their way out as the restaurant folded in on itself.
As the team cleared the building, Jackson performed a headcount. His entire team made it out. Liv, still manning the hose line, turned in his direction. Even through her mask, her eyes met his. In that shared look, Jackson saw her worry.
The unspoken feelings between them charged the atmosphere around them. The worry in her eyes seemed to carry an extra layer. He couldn”t help but notice a tinge of something more—at least he hoped.
Their gazes held for a moment, and then Jackson returned his attention to ensuring the safety of the rest of the scene. Liv’s concentration also returned to what she was doing. After a brief respite, Station 3 joined the remaining firefighters working to drown the fire from the exterior.
* * *
Staringat the steaming structure of Fiddler’s Restaurant, Jackson ran a hand through his hair. Two major fires in two days—he was exhausted. He stood on the fire ground with Turk and the captain of the Spring Hill FD. “Bert, your people really helped us out.”
“You’ve been busy,” Bert Starr sighed. “Do you have the final numbers?”
“Nineteen minor injuries, fourteen moderate, eight critical,” Jackson replied as he glanced down at his clipboard.
A black sedan rolled closer. “Ugh, PD. Here come the questions.” Bert unhooked the top of his turnout coat.
Jackson chuckled and coughed. “You met her already.”
“Her?” Bert’s brows furrowed.
“Liv Everhart. She hit the exterior with your team,” Jackson said, a hint of affection in his voice.
Turk coughed. Only Jackson would realize his cough wasn’t real.
As Liv stepped out of the sedan, her presence commanded attention. Her auburn hair had come free from its confines, floating in the light wind. It seemed fitting for her line of work, and her intense gaze swept over the scene, taking in every detail.
Bert raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “She”s the one in charge of these investigations?”
Jackson nodded. “She”s the best in the business, and we”re lucky to have her on this case. Liv”s thorough and relentless. If there”s foul play, she”ll uncover it.”
“If?” Bert shook his head at the destroyed building.
* * *
As Liv approached,her scrutiny met Jackson”s, and she offered a brief nod of acknowledgment. “Jackson,” her voice was as steely as her gaze, “let”s get to work. I need to see what”s left of the scene before it”s contaminated any further.”
Bert extended a hand to Liv. “Captain Bert Starr, Spring Hill FD. We appreciate your expertise.”
Liv shook his hand with a firm grip. “Thank you, Captain. I”ll do my best to find the cause of this fire.”
A second sedan pulled up. Detective Michael Wheaton joined them, carrying tin cans on each arm and a camera around his neck. After introductions, Mike and Liv headed toward the charred remnants of the building, ready to dive into the investigation. Jackson, Turk and Bert stayed on the periphery.
Mike and Liv crouched by some of the burnt remains, examining the wreckage. Liv turned to him. “Any initial thoughts?”
Mike furrowed his brow. “Based on the burn patterns and the way the structure collapsed, I”d say it likely began in the rear corner of the building. The flames spread quickly, which suggests an accelerant.”
Liv nodded, jotting down notes in her notebook. “I agree. Looks like we have another arson.”
“Yeah,” Mike sighed. “We just need to confirm it.”
As they continued their examination, Liv noticed a strange shape in the debris. She motioned to Mike. “Over here. I think I see something.”
They carefully cleared away some of the debris, and a charred body revealed itself. The carnage was barely recognizable. “Damn it,” Liv cried. “Looks like we”ve got a fatality here. I’ll call it in.” Her voice went over the radio, sealing the scene. She caught Jackson and Turk looking in her direction.
Mike nodded, his expression solemn. “Let”s secure the scene and preserve any evidence we can find.”
As they awaited the arrival of the other investigators, Mike and Liv shot more pictures and took samples from the area. This investigation had just taken a very dark and unsettling turn.
Molly Everhart walked over to where Mike and Liv were standing. “You’re a jinx to my sex life. I had a dance competition with a new partner today.”
“Give me your calendar. I’ll ask the bodies to only show up on a workday,” Liv said sarcastically.
Molly slid on a pair of gloves and started to work the scene. Her assistant shot pictures as Molly circled the body like she was running laps.
Liv smiled. “She’s thinking. Watch for smoke,” she warned Mike.
“I heard that. Body is in the same position as the other two. Arms bent and curled from the fire,” Molly noted. “Let’s see if we have another gift.”
As she and her assistant scooped the remains into the body bag, Liv slowly knelt at the edge of the pit where the body had lain. She ran her gloved hand through the area where the corpse’s heart would have been. “Shit.” She found another glass vial with an etched phoenix. “Mike.” She held it up for him to see.
His lips pressed together. “Liv, we have a problem.”
“Mol, I need you to push the investigation. Until we know who the dead are…” Liv’s voice drifted off. She looked up and caught the dark expression on Jackson’s face. She wondered if he was thinking of the next possible fire.
* * *
Liz enteredher apartment and headed straight for the bathroom, where she peeled off her smoke-scented clothing with a groan. Her body was covered in bruises. “Fire School and a real fire.” She winced as she saw the extent of the damage.
After turning on the shower, she let the warm water cascade over her, washing away the grime and soot from her body. She winced some more as the stream hit the bruises.
As the water washed away the physical residue of the night, her mind went into overdrive. Her gut told her there was more of a connection between the three dead than the glass vials. She lathered her hair with shampoo, letting her thoughts swirl as she tried to make sense of the evidence they”d found. “Another phoenix vial.”
Wrapped in a towel, Liz stepped out of the shower and threw on a tee shirt and yoga pants. She needed to connect the dots, but her bed was calling. She folded back the covers and slipped into the sheet’s embrace. Her eyes closed.