Trial by Fire

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“Brust.” A gravelly voice yelled his name.

Noah stopped midslap and looked up. Weary stood in the back of the bay, staring at him. Surely Weary wasn’t about to stop him from leaving with his men. “Yes?”

“Come with me.”

Graham looked at Noah. One truck barreled out of the bay, lights flashing. “We can’t wait.”

Noah nodded.

“Are you serious about learning fire investigation?” Challenge filled Weary’s voice as if he expected Noah to fail before he really started.

He stiffened his back as the wail of the first truck faded in the distance.

“We can’t wait any longer. Either hop on or go with him.”

Noah groaned. He lived for fighting fires, working toward the goal of surpassing his father’s reputation, an impossible task from the sidelines. His knee throbbed, making his decision for him. Better to investigate than let someone decide he needed a medical leave. Again.

“Go ahead.” Noah slapped the side of the truck.

The last man leapt on the truck, and Noah watched it race from the garage, sirens blaring.

“This better be good.” He mumbled under his breath.

“What, Brust?”

Noah found Weary standing in front of him. “How do you do that?”

“Life’s all about making probies jump. Come on.” The man turned and walked away.

“I am not a proby.”

Weary snorted. “You are in my program.”

Noah clamped his hands on his hips and fought the urge to hit something. He tried to get the adrenaline to subside as he stripped off his protective gear and placed his helmet back on its hook. He’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse. Who knew what Mr. Sunshine had in mind for his afternoon?

When Noah entered Weary’s office, the man sat behind his desk. He’d propped his feet on the desk, and was flipping through a stack of photos.

“What are those?”

“Wrong question to ask.”

Silence filled the room except for the sound of Weary shuffling the top photo to the bottom of the pile, replacing it with the next again and again. Noah clamped his jaw against the urge to spout words he might regret.

Finally, he couldn’t take the silence anymore. “And the right question…”

“Where are these pictures from? What do they show?” Weary pulled his legs off the desk and lurched forward in his chair. He tossed a couple at Noah. “What do you see?”

Noah juggled the images. Why look at photos when he’d spent hours at the site? He tried to focus on them, but didn’t know what he was looking at. He bit his tongue. The shot looked like a close-up of a shed’s concrete floor. Swirls of iridescent colors ran through a liquid pooled on one part of the concrete. Gasoline or oil mixed with water?

Weary cleared his throat. “Guesses?”

“Something leaked gas or oil there.”

“The cause?”

“Lawn mower stored there? Other small, gas-run tool?”

“Do you think this fire started on its own?”

Noah shrugged. “Probably not. But.

“But we investigate first. Rule out other causes of the fire. Never walk in assuming arson. You have to keep an open mind or you’ll miss key details and evidence because they don’t fit your model.”

Noah paused and studied the picture more. “I still say this looks like evidence of gas or another accelerant used to start the fire. But…”

“But it could be caused by any number of things.” Brian Weary leaned back in his chair, a grimace on his face. “Welcome to fire investigation. The liquid could be from a lawn mower. Or it could be remnants of what an arsonist used to start the fire. There’s the challenge. Determining the cause.” He swiveled in his chair, pointed at a map taped to the wall behind his desk. “See that? Each pin represents a fire we’ve investigated this year. Orange represents arson. Green electrical. Blue lightning. You get the idea. See anything unusual?”

Noah stepped closer to the desk and leaned against it to get a closer look. “You’ve got quite a few arsons. More than usual.”

“Yep.” Weary leaned back, locking his hands behind his head. “It’s too early to tell much, but those grass fires on the outskirts of town could be connected to your shed fire. If it’s arson.”

Noah rubbed his jaw and tried to memorize the map. He had so much to learn.

Weary grabbed a thick binder from the floor behind his desk. He tossed the volume at Noah, who lunged to catch it before paper flew from it. “Remember the photo. I want you to figure out what it is. This book should help.”

Noah looked from the photos to the book. “You want me to use this?”

Weary put his glasses on the tip of his nose and looked over them at Noah. Then he pivoted his chair until Noah stared at his back.

Heat filled Noah’s face. “Fine,” he muttered. He stood and stalked from the room with the photos and binder.

Everybody had warned him that Weary was unpredictable and mean. Why had he thought he could make his experience with the man different? Noah plopped down at one of the tables in the kitchen area, binder falling to the table. He opened the volume and started flipping through the pages. He needed to calm down or the words would swim as he read. After trying to find a match for an hour, he stood and paced the room. He needed some fresh oxygen pumping to his brain before he pitched the book in the trash.

He grabbed a bottle of water and slumped down at the table. The rumble of a truck pulling into a bay grabbed his attention.

“Weary get to you already?” Graham pulled out and then straddled a chair, his face covered in soot and his body reeking of the fire. He feigned a look of concern, but his eyes danced with laughter.

“Don’t say it.”

“I told you so?” Graham shook his head. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

Noah rubbed his hands over his head. “Can you believe he wants me to study this?” He wanted to kick the thick volume back to Weary’s office. He’d signed up to read fires, not tomes.

“It’s just a book.”

Yeah. For anyone else. But how could Noah hide his dyslexia? Studying in a group was one thing. But he doubted he’d find an audio version for this volume.

Graham flipped it open. “Look, there are even pictures.”

“I guess that’s all I need. Find a picture that matches this one.” Noah tossed the photo to Graham. “Out of eight hundred pages.”

“No problem.” He flipped a couple of pages, then pushed it back to Noah. “I’m sure you’ll find the match in a few days.”

Noah snorted. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Graham slapped the table and stood. “Let me know if you need help.”

Noah rubbed his knee where it throbbed. He couldn’t afford to let this opportunity go. If he couldn’t fight fires the rest of his life, then he’d settle for determining cause.

Noah pushed back from the table, and paced the room. He locked his hands behind his head and concentrated on breathing. A steady in and out pattern. He knew the pattern in the water. Weary had asked an impossible question. Weary knew he couldn’t determine whether the gas existed at the site prior to the fire.

Yep, Weary was seeing where he’d run with this. He could waltz back into his office with a tale of woe to find himself forever cut out of investigative work. Definitely not what he wanted.

A woman walked past the window. Her head tilted away from him so he couldn’t see her features. But her dark-brown hair reminded him of Tricia Jamison. Once the thought took hold, he couldn’t shake it. He didn’t want to think of her. Couldn’t think of her. Needed to think about the picture. But all he saw in his mind’s eye was Tricia.

A woman he had misjudged and unjustly pushed away. A woman he needed to forgive.

And a woman he needed to ask to forgive him.

SIX

Wednesday

Judge Sinclair looked down her glasses at Tricia, then turned her attention to Earl Montgomery. “You’re here for the pretrial on this case, correct?”

“Yes, your honor.” Earl caressed his Kelly-green paisley tie. “My client, Andrew Parker, would like to ask for a continuance in this case.”

“Reasons?”

“We have been unable to locate a witness.”

“Who is this witness?”

A shadow flashed across Earl’s face. “A buddy from college my client spent time with the night of the alleged incident.”

Tricia tried not to smile too broadly. She knew the real reason—Linda had agreed to testify, and Andrew wanted more time to wear her back down. No way would she let that happen. “Your honor, this case has been pending before this court for months, more than enough time for Mr. Montgomery and his client to locate this witness. In fact, I don’t believe they have any witnesses listed on their evidentiary motion, so the witness would be excluded for that reason.” Tricia glanced at the summary sheet, and confirmed her memory. “This is no valid reason to delay the trial.”

“Other than Mr. Parker receiving a fair trial. His wife may be unwilling to press the charges.”

“Counsel?” The judge looked at Tricia.

“I talked with her yesterday and verified that she will testify at the trial. Even without her testimony, the state is ready to proceed.”

“Is Mrs. Parker here?”

“No. This is supposed to be a routine pretrial hearing.”

Judge Sinclair looked over her glasses at Tricia. “Then we’ll see her at trial. Defendant’s motion is denied. Thank you, counsel.”

Earl collected his files and turned toward the doors. “See you next week, little lady.”

Tricia fought the urge to go wash her hands. He made her feel so slimy.

The cell phone sang the theme to Monday Night Football from some deep recess of her purse. Caleb’s ring-tone. She grabbed the bag and scrabbled through it for the phone as she walked back to her office.

“Hey…” Huffing cut off her words.

“Can you come to my house?” Caleb’s words rushed on top of each other.

Sirens blared in the background, causing her to push the phone closer to her ear. “What?”

“How fast can you get to my house?”

“Half an hour.”

“See you then.” He hung up, and Tricia stared at the dead phone.

Before she could toss the phone back in the recesses of her bag, it rang again, this time the standard tone. She glanced at the display and stilled when she saw the caller was Dani Richards. Why would her brother’s girlfriend call? Especially on the heels of her brother?

She opened the phone. “Dani?”

“Has Caleb reached you?”

“Just did. What’s going on?”

“There’s trouble at his place.” Dani’s voice sounded muffled, as if she were rushing somewhere. A car door slammed.

“Are you sure?”

“Does your brother joke about things like this?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll meet you there.”

Tricia stood and grabbed her jacket. “All right.”

Snatching the Parker file and her purse from the desk, she left the office. She prayed that Caleb was okay as she reached her car and headed out of town down O Street.

Blood thundered in her ears as her heart raced. What-if scenarios ran through her mind. What if he’d injured himself? What if one of the men he’d investigated had come after him? What if…

Noah opened the door to his second-floor apartment, the autumn wind raking across him from the open patio door. He shivered as it penetrated his sweat-soaked shirt. Bicycling around Holmes Lake left him worn out, but in a good way. His body had cooperated with his mind and allowed him to exercise the way he’d wanted. His knee had even kept up.

He wiped his forearm across his forehead, swiping sweat. The exercise had succeeded in drawing off remnants of adrenaline from another shift. Now he could anticipate forty-eight hours off duty.