AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It had taken her two days to unscramble the notes written by the other detectives from the dead body found at the Waverly estate. The damage from this blaze would take her weeks to sort out, even with her meticulous notes. She also begrudgingly promised Michael she wouldn’t work big scenes or investigation interviews without a partner.
“Watch yourself. I’ll head to the hospital to see if I can get a witness statement,” Michael advised her over the phone. “Detective Andrews is en route to you.”
“Michael, I don’t need a babysitter, especially Andrews. What is he, twelve years old?” she asked before realizing he’d already hung up. “Argh.” He made her angry, but she had a job to do, so she shook it off.
As Jackson and Station 3 battled the inferno with hoses, axes, and gallons of water, Olivia moved closer, hoping for a clue to the fire’s origin. She walked the perimeter, camera in hand, sparks flying around her like fireflies.
“What have we here?” she talked to herself as she bent down and picked up a small black metal stopper. “What did you belong to?” She raised her flashlight and scoured the area. She’d have to look again in the daylight.
Dawn began to break. The sun’s orange rays blended into the flames and were obscured by the rising smoke and steam. Wood sizzled. The remains of the structure loudly crashed in on itself.
Liv startled, her whiskey-hazel eyes widening as her hand covered her heart. She was grateful she didn’t hear any emergency alarms attached to the firefighters. No one was trapped by the collapse. Her detective babysitter stood nearby. She ignored him.
As she made her way back to her car, Michael stood outside the driver’s door of his own police vehicle, a gray cardboard cup carrier in his hands.
Liv exhaled. “Thanks,” she growled and pulled a cup of coffee from the tray.
“Hangry?” Michael teased.
“Pissed. Detective Andrews, you can go home now.” Liv’s tone was nicer talking to him.
Michael stared at the remnants of the old building. “Looks like they’re finishing the overhaul.” He placed the tray on the hood of his car and popped the trunk. He dressed in turnout gear and grabbed four metal evidence collection cans, draping them over his forearm by their handles. In a quick grab, he managed to also pick up his coffee.
Liv shook her head. “Quite a feat.” She popped the plastic spout on the lid of her cup and took a sip. “It burned too hot to get close. Too hot to be natural.”
“The three they pulled out were renters. All were intubated and sedated before I could get anything from them.” He asked, “Any ideas?”
She shrugged. “Something quickly incendiary. I think the job was a professional one.” She started walking toward the engine. “It burned very hot. At least five points of ignition I could see. Found a metal stopper on the C side of the building. Don’t know if it’s relevant, but I bagged it for evidence. Let’s see if we can get any information.”
“Oh, look who’s there. It’s Jack-son,” he said in an irritated tone.
Her sooty brow rose. “I didn’t realize we’re in grade school.” She kept walking.
Jackson was sitting on the back step of the ambulance. Nate Thompson, a paramedic, had rigged an IV bag filled with saline into an eyewash. The fluid poured down the bridge of Jackson’s nose, rinsing the soot from his emerald-green eyes.
“Hey, Nate, is he going to live?” Liv sat on the step beside Jackson.
“Captain Reynolds caught an ember in his eye, and both eyes were irritated. Wood fires produce thick smoke.” The paramedic turned his attention back to Jackson.
“Thanks, Nate. Morning, Detectives.” Jackson’s voice was gravelly from smoke.
Michael’s forehead furrowed. “Morning, Captain.”
Olivia shook her head. She’d sort out the pissing contest when she and Michael were alone. “Any ideas about the source?”
“Nah, but it looks like it started in the orchestra pit. Burned hot and fast. When we got into the building, we could smell garlic.”
Liv and her partner’s eyes met. “Arsenic? Calcium carbide? White phosphorous?” Michael blew out a breath. “Maybe we will get lucky.”
When yells erupted from the pile, Liv and Michael began to run. Jackson, following Liv’s lead, pulled the eye wash free and buckled his coat. The three hustled toward the cries.
The old theater was reduced to a skeletal frame of blackened timber and gray ash. Jackson and the two detectives moved carefully into the fireground, making their way through the debris to ensure they maintained their footing. The crackling sound of burning wood still echoed occasionally.
They approached what Liv guessed used to be the dressing room. Old costumes lay singed, their plastic rhinestones melted into a colorful mosaic on the floor. Firefighter Alex Turner stood, pointing. Beneath a charred set of mattress springs, partially concealed under a pile of ash, he found the remains of a badly charred body.
“Captain, over here.” Alex waved them closer, his voice high-pitched with nerves.
Jackson and the detectives rushed to Alex's side, and the rest of the company gathered around. The body was unrecognizable, reduced to a twisted and blackened form.
