by K J Kalis
“Your luck change?” Chuck said, as he approached.
“Maybe. Take a look at this.” Freddie pointed to some marks left in a depression in the ground. “Looks like the soil was just compacted enough.”
“Tire print?”
“Maybe.” Freddie stood back from the imprint. “It’s not likely that the tire is exotic enough for us to get any leads off of it though.” He spit out the toothpick. “Even if we could get an identification, there’s no way to prove that whatever vehicle this belonged to was the one that started the fire.” Freddie took a deep breath, frustration chasing him. Getting to the scene while the fire was happening was a very different experience. All the adrenaline that normally flowed when he was a firefighter on active duty had raised its ugly head. He hadn’t felt that in a long time. The sense of anger, the sense of urgency and injustice at seeing the damage done to property and people. Maybe it was better that he had gotten injured, he thought, taking a few more pictures. At least then he could show up at the scene after the damage was done. It was more like putting together a puzzle at that point. He could separate himself from the damage.
“You kids find anything?” a voice called. Chief Cleary had walked over, his lumbering stride giving the hint that he might be next in line for a hip replacement.
Freddie tilted his head to the side, “Maybe. Chuck here noticed that one of the fuel tank relief valves was open.”
“Both tanks?”
“No. Well, we don’t know. The one valve was blown right off the tank in the explosion, so we don’t have that as a fact for the case unless we can find the metal.”
“How likely is that?” Chief Cleary shined his own flashlight in the direction of the fuel tanks.
“Probably not too likely.”
“Got anything else?”
Freddie used his flashlight to point to the soot line. “We’ve got a soot line where it looks like accelerant was poured to start the fire.”
As Chief Cleary knelt down to smell the soot, Chuck added, “If those relief valves were open first, the fuel would have pooled in the water and set the boats on fire, eventually working its way back to the tanks once they had mostly emptied. They wouldn’t have exploded until there were mostly just fumes left in them.”
The chief stood up. “I smell gas.” He looked at Chuck. “Maybe you should come over to Cal Fire and help us with the arson load we’ve got. Seems like you are pretty good at this.”
Freddie glanced at Chuck, who was smiling. “I’ve heard that before.”
“What else?” Ned said, standing up with a grunt.
“At this moment, nothing. We’ll have to come back in the morning when we can see everything better. Based on the soot line and the open relief valve, I’d already call this arson. Can we get the local PD to secure it for us until I can get back here?”
Chief Cleary nodded and keyed up his radio, asking to be patched through to the police department sergeant on duty. Freddie heard him ask for the scene to stay closed until at least noon. “They’ve already got people creating a perimeter.”
“I didn’t see them when I came in.”
“For once, we beat the police here.” The chief chuckled, “That’s a first, right?”
“Aww, now come on, Chief. Our brothers in blue are always there for us,” Freddie
reached into the chest pocket of his turnout coat and opened a new toothpick, the mint taste moving through his mouth. It was better than the taste of soot and the smell of burnt gas, that was for sure.
“They are, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t healthy competition.”
Freddie and Chuck headed over to the HAZMAT truck to get their uniforms decontaminated before they headed back to their respective stations. “Any chance you can give me a hand in the morning?”
“Sure. As long as it’s okay with my chief.”
“It will be.”
* * *
After a thorough scrubbing of their turnout equipment by the HAZMAT team and a stern reminder to take a shower when they got back to the station, Freddie drove the SUV back to the Cal Fire headquarters. The lights were blazing. The first trucks had arrived just ahead of him. A quick shower, before the hot water ran out, and he was in his bunk.
The creaks and groans of the mattresses sounded off in the dark of the bunk room. Freddie couldn’t sleep, the sights and the noises of the fire still rolling like a movie loop in his head — the buckled metal of the fuel tanks, the burning hulks of boats drifting silently except for the crackle of the fire, the shouts for help in the water, the face of the woman and her family that he helped to pull from the dinghy.
People didn’t think that first responders, whether police or fire, had any kind of aftereffects from a call. As Freddie turned over in his bed, he knew that was just plain wrong. He was sure he wasn’t the only person that was awake. The ones that weren’t awake probably drank on their days off or did something else to chase the memories back into the box they all tried to keep their thoughts in. In some ways, it made Freddie grateful he didn’t have a family. To expose them to what he’d gone through and seen, that just wouldn’t be right.
The scene from the fire reemerged as he settled under the blanket, but this time, his mind wandered over to the burn line that he and Chuck had found. Why would someone set that size of a fire? Did the person have a beef with the marina owner? Most arsonists were men, filled with anger and hatred for someone or something, trying to solve an injustice they couldn’t fix in a more acceptable way. Freddie didn’t believe it was any different this time. The question was, would Freddie be able to find him before it was too late and he struck again?
* * *
As the morning broke, Freddie opened his eyes to realize that he’d gotten about four hours of sleep. He sat up on the side of the bed, hanging his long legs over the side. He ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. He could do with another shower and a big cup of coffee, that was for sure.
Half an hour later, Freddie was settled into his office, reviewing the images he had loaded up from his camera to his computer. He sent a quick text to Chuck and Chuck’s chief asking for the fireman to meet Freddie at the site. Chuck’s chief agreed immediately. Chuck texted back that he’d be on the road in a few minutes and would meet Freddie there.
Freddie beat Chuck to the site where he was greeted by two police cruisers and a lot of yellow tape, keeping the area cordoned off from the public, boat owners and the media. It was a big enough fire that the locals would want to see what was happening, especially now that the sun was up. They would be able to, but not until Freddie and Chuck had done what they needed to do.
He pulled the SUV up close to where the fire had been the night before, the smell of burning wood, melting fiberglass and the foam they had used to put out the fire still in the air. Freddie walked over to the water where a sheen of unburned fuel could be seen on the water. He expected the EPA would arrive any minute. He needed to get his work done before they took over.
He started at the waterline, just behind where what was left of the mangled fuel tanks were sitting, taking pictures and writing notes in his notebook. He took more pictures of the relief valve on the one tank and what was left of the structure. He was searching again for the other relief valve when Chuck arrived.
“Morning,” Chuck said, getting out of the Battalion Chief’s SUV with a large coffee and a donut in his hand. “I brought you sustenance for the search. Coffee and donuts. Breakfast of champions.”
Freddie smiled, the toothpick in his mouth floating to the corner of his lip. “You are a good friend, Chuck. That’s for sure.”
Chuck left the food on the hood of the SUV and walked over to where Freddie was standing, staring. “See something?”
“Naw. Wish I did.” Frustration tightened Freddie’s chest. “This was a big fire, Chuck. It’s a big statement.”
Chuck nodded. “Any luck with the other relief valve?”
“No. It’s gone.” It was a key
piece of evidence that would have strengthened Freddie’s case. He knew that. One relief valve could be argued away by a defense attorney as a fluke or an equipment failure. Two at the same time? That wouldn’t be so easy. But Freddie didn’t have that option with the second one being gone. They would have to find other evidence if there even was any.
Freddie began to follow the soot line that snaked through the gravel, walking slowly, snapping pictures as he went, adding numbered markers so he could chronicle the route of the accelerant. He stopped for a second, looping the camera around his neck, stepping back from the dark marks on the earth. He brushed some of the worn gravel aside that was away from the burn line, rubbing his fingers in the dirt underneath. He called to Chuck, “Get me a testing vial and a label, will you?” Chuck nodded, “And you could bring that coffee over here, too.”
Chuck handed him the vial, which looked like a test tube, a label that would secure the top, and a set of gloves. Freddie pulled on the gloves and used the vial to scoop up some of the dirt that was underneath the gravel. He took a picture, labeled it and handed it back to Chuck. Chuck passed him the coffee. “What’s that about? The dirt, I mean.”
Freddie stuck his tongue out, rolling the toothpick in his mouth. “Look at how dry it is here. The dirt has turned into dust. Whatever accelerant they used should have just soaked into the ground.”
“What does that mean?”
Freddie looked from side to side. “Let’s get the measuring tape. I need to see how long this burn line is.”
Chuck came back with an industrial-sized measuring tape on a reel, the kind that builders used to measure long distances. Freddie had a laser measurement system in the SUV that Chief Cleary had gotten for him, but for some reason, he liked the physical measuring tape better. “Hold it down there, Chuck,” Freddie said, leaving his coffee sitting on the gravel away from the evidence area. “I’ll walk it back.” Stepping carefully so as not to disturb the black line in the gravel, Freddie walked backward, following the marks in the ground to where they first appeared. “How long?” Freddie called.
“Forty-three feet.”
“Okay. Grab one of those markers and take a couple of pictures, okay?” Chuck nodded.
Forty-three feet. With how dry everything was, Freddie wondered how much accelerant had been dumped on the ground. Had to be at least forty gallons or more to make it the whole way to the water. Freddie put himself in the place of the arsonist, staring down at the waterline. He imagined the person, likely a man, getting out of the truck that had been reported and dragging gas cans out of the back, opening them wide so the gas would run in a little river down to the waterline. If that was true, whoever it was didn’t leave the gas cans there.
The part of the story that was missing was the ignition. He shook his head. Freddie was convinced that the destruction of the marina was intentional. Even if the person who had been driving the truck had a leak in their gas tank, there is no way enough gas would have come out of it to get the forty some feet down to the fuel tanks. There was also no way that the relief valve had just popped open on its own, or at least Freddie didn’t believe so. The question was, how did the arsonist start the fire?
Freddie scanned the area. If the person dropped a match, it would have burned up in the fire, nothing left to find. Sometimes people used candles, but he didn’t see any evidence of wax on the gravel.
The crunch of gravel let Freddie know that Chuck was on the way up. “Hey, boss, what’s this?” Chuck was pointing to something on the ground near the burn line, but about ten feet away, up the hillside. “Looks like a matchbook.”
Freddie’s chest tightened as he knelt down. It was the kind that Freddie hadn’t seen in years, matches with a paper cover and writing on the outside. Since people didn’t smoke as much as they used to, or they used lighters, matchbooks had become outdated. “Well, hello there! Where did you come from?” Freddie said, kneeling down. He pulled a numbered plastic marker out of his pocket and put it on the ground next to the matchbook and took several pictures. “Can you get me an evidence bag?” Chuck’s hand was extending it to him before he even asked for it. Freddie looked up, smiling. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a future in arson investigation?”
“Naw. Never heard that before.”
Freddie took a few more pictures of the matchbook, checked the images on his display to make sure they were properly in focus and then took a few more using his phone. A key piece of evidence like this could be eliminated in one false keystroke, so it was better to have a backup, just in case. He picked up the matchbook and dropped it in an evidence bag, sealing it and using a marker to sign and date it.
“What does it say?”
Freddie stared at the matchbook. It was cream-colored with pale green writing and a green logo. On it was an ornate design with a snake, a flag and something else that Freddie couldn’t decipher. Below the design were the words Theta Sigma Delta, Omicron Chapter. “It looks like it belongs to a fraternity.” Freddie turned it over and looked at the back. “Not sure what college, but let’s get this to the lab and see if there are any fingerprints we can use.”
“Any matches missing?”
Freddie peered into the side of the matchbook, seeing a spot where the paper matches had been pulled from the book, “Yeah, looks like a couple.”
The EPA trucks had arrived, three of them, two pickup trucks and a van. Luckily, Freddie had what he needed, or at least he hoped he did. Time would tell if he had enough evidence to find the arsonist and convict him. He just hoped he could get it done before the arsonist struck again.
30
It was mid-morning by the time that Kat had a minute to call Freddie to check in on the blue dots after getting Jack off to school, the dogs walked and Van left for work. She couldn’t come to grips with what might have blown the transformers off of the pole at the fires they had found.
“Henderson,” he answered when she called.
“Freddie, it’s Kat Beckman. Just wanted to follow up on the fires we saw. Did you hear anything else from Yasmin?”
“I haven’t. I worked a fire all last night and then was back at the scene this morning.”
“The fire at the marina?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“It was all over the news. Was that arson?” Kat wasn’t sure what he would, or could, for that matter, tell her.
“Not exactly sure yet. And, to answer your question, I haven’t heard from Yasmin. Have you heard from Theresa?”
Kat sighed, feeling the muscles in the back of her neck tighten. “No. I wish I had. I did some research last night. I thought I might reach out to some of Bart’s college buddies to see if any of them stayed in touch with him. Maybe they know where Theresa is.”
“That’s a good thought. Where did he go to college?”
“Oregon State. I guess he was part of some fraternity. He got an engineering degree.”
There was a pause that lingered too long in Kat’s mind. “Freddie, did I lose you?” The silence continued for another second.
“No, I’m here. What fraternity did you say he was with?”
“Theta Sigma Delta.”
“You don’t say.”
Kat’s heart started to beat a little faster. “Why?”
“Is this off the record?”
“Yup, of course.”
“We found something at the fire this morning, a matchbook, that had the same name on it. I couldn’t figure out how it fit.”
“Wait. You think Bart Walsh set the fire?”
“It’s kinda looking that way, right? Who else could it be? Especially when you combine that with the fact that Theresa is missing, and we have mysterious blue dots on his power system that connect to a bunch of fires that we can’t explain.”
Kat started to pace, her brows furrowed, “But remember that Theresa told me that she thought he was in trouble? What if it’s not him?”
“You’d have to tell me a pretty good story to get me off that
scent, Kat. Listen, I gotta go, but if you find anything else, don’t be a stranger.”
Kat hung up with Freddie, feeling flustered. Bart wasn’t someone that she thought could be an arsonist. She sat down at the kitchen table, pen in hand and wrote the letters MMO. Means, motive and opportunity. It was the legal standard for investigations and building a case, a good case. She took a deep breath. She needed to think clearly. She drew a grid on the paper, giving herself three columns and headed them with the words, blue dots, Theresa, marina fire. Was there an intersection? She didn’t know.
Under the column for the blue dots, she checked off that Bart had the means and the opportunity. Did he have the motive? She wasn’t sure. She did the same for the marina. Could he have set the fire? Though she didn’t know much about it other than what had been on the news, the matchbook that Freddie found certainly tied him to the site. When she came to Theresa’s disappearance, she swallowed. Flashes of her friend went through her memory. Sure, they weren’t super close, but the thought that Theresa was missing made her stomach clutch. She leaned over the paper, knowing that she had to face the last part of the MMO exercise. Did Bart have the means to get rid of his wife? The answer was yes. He was the CEO of a major corporation with a shady security guy working for him. Did Bart have the motive to get rid of Theresa? Kat tilted her head to the side, unsure. Theresa had told her their marriage wasn’t that good, but the question was whether it was bad enough to warrant hurting Theresa to avoid a divorce. Kat didn’t know the answer to that. Kat rolled the last question around in her mind. Did Bart have the opportunity to do something to Theresa? Standing up and walking away from the paper where she was writing her notes, she realized the answer was yes. Bart was late to the hospital. Where he had been in the morning, she didn’t know. Maybe he had an alibi. Maybe he had been in a meeting where other people could place him. But, if he did have an alibi, Kat didn’t know about it.
She picked up her phone and texted Van. “Freddie thinks that Bart may be behind Theresa’s disappearance, wildfires and marina fire from last night.”