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The news sent a chill down her spine. The presence of another phoenix vial now showed the arsonist didn’t care who they hurt.
“I'm getting a ride,” Olivia declared, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window.
“Liv, are you sure you want to be here?” her partner’s voice came through the phone, laced with concern.
Liv squared her jaw. “I need to find whoever is doing this, Mike. I can't just sit and wait.”
Michael sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright,” he relented. “I'm in the command center. I'll see you when you get here.”
As the call ended, Olivia turned to Luke. “I need your help. I need to walk the scene before I head into the bureaucracy.” She scrunched her brows. “I left my turnout pants in the hospital, so we need to stop by my car. I need my camera and my kit from the trunk.”
Luke nodded in understanding, his expression grave. “There should be a spare set of gear in the truck.” He gestured toward the back seat. “If there isn’t one here, there will be a set in one of the engines on scene. The scene will still be filled with hotspots. I'll walk it with you.”
“Thanks.” Olivia advised him where she parked. As Luke said, they were able to come up with two sets of turnout gear.
“What are we looking for?” he asked.
“Remember that game you played in elementary school—what doesn’t belong? That’s what we are looking for.”
Luke shook his head and laughed a humorless chuckle.
Twenty-Four
Olivia squinted through the rainy morning haze, her camera clicking as she documented the charred remains of what was once a bustling warehouse. The acrid smell of burnt wood and plastic hung heavy in the air. A ferocious fire had ravaged the building. Ladder trucks continued to pour water on the smoking structure.
With her camera slung over her shoulder and her sample kit in hand, Olivia began her meticulous examination, scanning the perimeter for any signs of anomaly. Beside her, Luke, his face streaked with sweat, tightly gripped a pike pole, his gaze darting around the desolate scene.
As they moved deeper into the wreckage, Olivia noted the complete destruction. Everything within the warehouse seemed to have been reduced to ashes. The metal shelves were darkened and warped from the heat and flames.
She snapped more photos, capturing the devastation from every angle. “The fire burned hot,” she remarked. “Look at those super-heated spots—the ignition areas.”
Luke nodded grimly, his expression tense as he watched Olivia at work. With precision, she collected samples from various points, her gloved hands carefully bagging evidence that could potentially hold crucial clues.
“No wonder it went up so fast,” Olivia continued, her brow furrowed in concentration. “The cement walls held the heat like a Dutch oven. The more areas burned, the hotter it got, and the hotter it got, the more devices triggered.”
Luke nodded again, his grip tightening on the pike pole as he jabbed at smoking debris, scattering sparks and sending plumes of ash into the air.
As Olivia moved through the wreckage, her mind buzzed with questions. Something didn't add up. These fires, were they really just acts of arson against the Waverlys, or was there another motive at play?
Her gut churned with unease, a nagging suspicion there was more to this story than met the eye. She pressed on, each step deeper within the smoldering ruins of the warehouse. As the occasional flames flickered and danced around her, her mind ticked off ideas.
The remnants of the tool aisle stretched out before Olivia and Luke, a maze of charred metal and scorched shelves. “The average tool burns around 2500 degrees,” she murmured to herself, her mind racing with possibilities. If there was any chance of finding intact evidence, it might be in this searing part of the inferno.
With careful movements, Olivia began to sift through the wreckage, her gloved hands probing cautiously for anything that might have survived the blaze.
A sudden pop echoed through the aisle, followed by a blinding flash of orange and white. Instinct kicked in, and before Olivia could fully comprehend what was happening, Luke was tackling her to the ground, his hands swiftly stripping off her burning turnout coat.
Coughing and sputtering, Olivia staggered to her feet with Luke's help, her heart pounding in her chest as she surveyed the smoldering wreckage around them. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks: white phosphorous.
“Thank you,” she gasped, her voice torn with emotion as she clutched Luke for support. “You saved my life.”
Luke nodded as he scanned the area for any sign of lingering danger. He stoked the smoldering debris with the pole, ensuring the white phosphorous had burned up and was fully extinguished before allowing Olivia to resume her search.
As she combed through the wreckage, her eyes lit up—a spring, a small black cylindrical container and some melted white plastic with the letters “S” and “I” visible were nestled amidst the ash and rubble.
“There might be a print here,” she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to Luke. “We might finally have a lead.”
Something triggered her. As she met Luke’s gaze, a steely resolve settled over her features. “You never saw this,” she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “Don't breathe a word of what happened here to anyone.”
