by Freya Barker
I find the other three on my bed. They barely lift an eyelid when I change into comfy clothes. I’m not ready for bed yet. Not when I know the darkness will only bring old painful memories tonight. I’ve got half a bottle of wine somewhere, and a Netflix subscription that will help me forget, but first I’m checking in with Sophie.
Me: Are you up?
I’ve barely installed myself on the couch when my phone rings.
“Hey, girl, how’s San Antonio?”
“Booo, I don’t want to go to work tomorrow,” Sophie complains. “I’m going to m-miss Roman, he’s already at the fire station. I liked s-spending all this time with him. And you of course,” she adds quickly.
I chuckle. “Oh, please. I know which way is up. I’m just happy you got back home safe, but I miss you guys. It’s empty here.”
“Doesn’t have to be. From what I could s-see a certain handsome police chief would only be too happy to fill your void.” She snickers at her own joke.
“Well…actually…” I have to hold the phone away from my ear, Sophie is squealing so loud.
“S-shut the front door! Damn, that m-man m-moves fast.”
“Not that fast,” I correct her. “We had dinner tonight and that was nice, but he got called away.” I’m not about to tell Sophie about that very memorable time between dinner and his call. That’s something I want to keep for me.
“Any plans for a repeat?”
“I just told you he got called away on an emergency, there was hardly time to consult our planners,” I point out. “I’m sure he’ll call.”
“He’d better,” she immediately fires off. “Or I’ll have Roman—”
“Puleeze. Leave the poor man out of it. I can take care of myself.” I hear the flap of the cat door in the background. “I should let you go, I’ve gotta make sure my cats are inside so I can lock up for the night.”
“Fine, but promise you’ll keep m-me updated?”
“I promise, if there’s something notable to share I’ll let you know.”
After saying our goodbyes, I drop my phone on the couch and go in search of my kitties. The lazy three are still curled on my bed, and I find Jack in the kitchen crunching some kibble after his late night run. I can’t see Panda anywhere though.
I get a whiff of wood burning. The neighbors, the next house over, occasionally light up their backyard firepit. I actually quite like the smell. It reminds me of bonfires and marshmallows. I walk to the back door to see if Panda is back yet, when I notice a weird glow inside the small shed against the back fence. I move to open the back door when my foot slips on something. On the floor, right below the cat door, is an envelope. I pick it up and find my name on the front in printed capitals. Chills run down my back, and just as I put my hand on the doorknob, I hear a crash of glass and flames come shooting from the shed’s small window.
Chapter 9
Keith
“Tell me you’ve got some leads on this fucker.”
I turn around to see Curtis Buxton approach.
“Working on it, Boss,” Tony says beside me. “Trust me, we’re hitting it as hard as we can, but we’ve got near nothing to go on.”
“Goddammit! Find something,” Curtis barks, running his hands through his gray hair.
I can’t blame him. I feel the same frustration.
The house at the end of Delwood Avenue is nothing but a burned-out skeleton. The surrounding trees are scorched, and if not for the fast response from the fire department, we’d have had a wildfire on our hands. Two ambulances left already, one with the disabled resident, who’d been pulled from the house, and one for the firefighter who had part of the ceiling collapse on him during the rescue.
“Call in a few more patrol units,” I tell Tony. “Canvass the neighborhood house by house. Any fucking thing they’ve seen today or in the past few days. Unusual activities, people who seem out of place, vehicles that don’t belong. Anything. No personal judgment calls on what is pertinent information: I want officers to take down every single detail, and I expect reports on my desk tomorrow.”
“You’ve got it.”
I watch him walk toward his vehicle and get on the radio before turning to the fire chief. “Any first thoughts on the fire itself?”
“Fire inspection is already here waiting for the all clear before they go in.”
“Fuck, Curtis. Don’t you start hiding behind procedure. You’ve been on the goddamn job for thirty years, you’ve gotta have some idea.”
“First guys on the scene said it looked like the fire was burning its way into the house. Like someone had doused the outside and lit a match to it. Definitely arson. It was fast though, faster than those trailer fires. Kerosene and methyl alcohol traces were found at those earlier sites, but I’m willing to bet they’ll find gasoline in this mix.”
“But wouldn’t insulation have provided a firewall?”
“Slow it down, sure, but there are lots of pathways for fire to find its way in. Once inside, with temperatures already high, it would spread fast.” With one last look at the remnants of the simple single-story house, Buxton walks off to join a group of his men by one of the engines. I watch as a couple of the guys follow him to his vehicle and climb in. I’m guessing they’re off to see their brother in the hospital.
I’m left staring at the still smoking scene with mounting frustration. I know first thing tomorrow, I’ll have the mayor on the phone, or God forbid, in my office, and I have nothing concrete on our arsonist. The fires themselves are the only source of information for now, but maybe they can provide me with a rough profile on the perp. Time to go through all the reports again and add what little I’ve learned tonight.
My phone starts buzzing in my pocket the moment I turn toward my Tahoe. It’s Autumn.
“Hey, Red. Look, I’m sorry I had to cut the night—”
“Keith?” The pitch of her voice has the hackles stand up on my neck.
“What’s wrong?”
“I may have a problem.”
Under-fucking-statement of the year. By the time I get off the phone with her, I’m already coming down her street. The moment I step on the sidewalk I can smell the smoke. Instead of going to the front door, I head around the side of the house, and walk up to a group of people standing around the smoking remains of Autumn’s shed. I’m surprised to find Evan Biel among them.
“How did you get here?” I ask him, after pulling him aside from what I now understand are some of Autumn’s neighbors who came out to help.
He shrugs. “I caught the call on my way to the hospital. Most of our guys are either there, or still at the scene on Delwood. I had no idea this was Autumn’s place. Surprised as hell to find out she was out here with a fucking garden hose and managed to put the damn thing out with the help of the neighbors.”
“Were you off tonight?” I ask, noting the sharp look in Evan’s eyes as he regards me.
“I was.” He is very deliberate in his response. “I got a call at home that Beacham was taken to the hospital, got in my car, and listened in on the scanner on my way. That’s how I found out about Delwood, and heard this call come in. I live on the north side of town, it was virtually on my way, and as I mentioned, seeing as a lot of our guys are busy, I thought I’d check to see what I could do. As I also just pointed out, the fire was out when I got here. I notified the station right away, so they don’t have to send our already depleted numbers out for nothing.”
It’s clear he knows my question wasn’t half as innocent as I’d hoped it would sound. His explanation sounds reasonable, and I would probably accept it at face value, if I didn’t personally see him at the earlier fires as well. Still, I’m just on a fishing expedition, not looking to alienate the fire department without some concrete evidence. So I simply nod my understanding and change the subject. “Where is she?”
“She went to check on her neighbor.”
“Okay, let me go check on her.”
“Hang on, Blackfoot,” he stops me. “Some
thing you might want to see.” He flicks on a small flashlight, and I follow him over to the burned-out shed, where he shines the light on something in the charred debris.
“Is that?”
“A cat. Yes. I can’t be sure, but from what I can see, the fire started inside the shed.” He points at the two walls still standing and I see what he means: the boards are charred on the inside, but are only barely touched on the outside. “Like I said, I can’t be sure, but I’ve seen something similar before in fire insurance fraud.”
“You mean someone lit the damn cat?” I’m not a cat fan, but even I can’t stomach the thought of something so horrific. I can’t even imagine what it would do to Autumn. I hope to God all five of her damn cats are safe in the house. “Does she know?”
“Dunno. She didn’t say anything, just went inside to calm down her elderly neighbor.
“So the fire was set.”
“Without a doubt. Nothing flammable was kept in there, just some gardening tools and empty pots, and as you can see, it started inside. I’ll call the chief.”
“Busy night.”
“No shit.”
As Evan pulls his phone from his pocket, I head back to the front of the house, and knock on Mr. Bartik’s front door. Autumn opens almost immediately and forces a little smile when she sees me.
“Hey.” I reach out and brush at a streak of soot along her jaw. “I hear you did pretty good out there.” She shrugs, leaning into my touch, but clearly not in the mood for platitudes, so I move onto something concrete. “How’s the old man?”
“He’s okay. I just wanted to make sure. I was actually about to head back.” She moves past me, pulling the door closed behind her, and slips into her own front door. I follow close behind.
Once inside, she stops in her tracks, but when I shut her door, she swings around and is suddenly in my arms.
“The bastard got Panda,” she sobs in my shirt.
It doesn’t take much to figure Panda is one of her cats. It’s also clear she unfortunately wasn’t spared the view of the poor thing’s charred remains. I let her cry, but when I start rubbing my hand up and down her back, she stiffens and pulls back, grabbing the hem of her shirt to wipe at her wet face.
“I have to show you something.” I follow her into the kitchen, where she grabs an envelope off the counter, and then opens a drawer and pulls out an identical one. She offers that one to me. “It was in my mail slot last Wednesday when I got home, along with a bunch of flyers.”
“You take it out, your prints are already on there. I don’t want to add mine.”
She pulls out the sheet and puts it on the counter.
ENJOY!
It’s written in black ink on notepaper. “Is there anything on the envelope?” She flips that over and places the second envelope next to it. Identical printing on both envelopes. “Did you open the other one?”
“I didn’t want to.”
“That’s okay,” I quickly reassure her. “Do you have tweezers and a couple of ziplock baggies?” She nods and opens another drawer, pointing at the box of freezer bags, before she disappears into the hallway.
The cop in me has taken over, but Autumn seems to have used my professional approach to regain her composure.
“Will this work?” She hands me a pair of tweezers, and I use it to handle the second envelope and pull out a similar piece of notepaper.
“Can you open up one of the freezer bags? That way we can handle the note without smudging any potential evidence.”
When she holds the plastic bag open, I slide the note inside. I take it from her and lay it flat next to the first one. Same printing, same pen, and by the looks of it, the same notepaper.
The message gives me chills.
LIKE YOUR GIFT?
Autumn
“Fucker.”
Keith is swearing up a storm as he whips out his phone and starts taking pictures.
I’m numb, staring at the words on the notes.
My gift? My fucking gift?
Suddenly I see red. I swing around and blindly knock the almost empty bottle of wine into the sink. It feels good. Gratifying. This morning’s coffee cup is next. With a rewarding crash it flies apart in pieces on top of the broken bottle in the bottom of the sink.
“Whoa, tiger.” Keith’s arms come around me, pinning mine to my sides.
“Like my gift?” I grind out between clenched teeth. “That cock-sucking miserable piece of shit killed my cat, and he wants to know if I like my fucking gift?” I struggle against Keith’s hold, but he’s not letting go. Just as quickly as my rage flared up, it deflates. “Why would someone do that? What does any of this have to do with me?”
“We’ll figure that out.”
I lean back against him, finding a little comfort in the firm tone of his words. “I should check on the cats,” I mumble, mostly to myself, but Keith loosens his arms and I step free.
“You do that.” He turns me and drops a kiss on my forehead. “I’m going to make a few calls. It means you’ll have a few more people roaming around your place, but what happened here may be part of a bigger investigation, and I don’t want to miss anything.”
“That’s fine.” I look out the window at the charred debris.
“Red?” My eyes track back to his. “We will figure this out.”
I nod, pressing my lips together as I turn toward the stairs. Halfway up, I notice Jack sitting at the top, watching me as I take the last few steps. Normally not a particularly cuddly cat, he doesn’t squirm when I pick him up and bury my face in his fur. Clutching him tightly, I walk into the bedroom, and set him down on the bed, where the other three are still huddled together. Jack saunters over and curls up right beside them, but his eyes stay on me.
Pulling open a drawer, I grab some clean clothes. The ones I have on are still damp, and I reek of smoke. A shower would help.
The cats are still where I left them when I step out of the bathroom ten minutes later, feeling moderately better after a thorough shampoo and a good cry. Grabbing my brush from the dresser, I quickly tug it through my hair before braiding it. A soft knock sounds at the door, before it opens a crack and Keith sticks his head in.
“Are you okay?”
“Better now,” I admit, tying an elastic on the end of my braid and meeting him at the door. Instead of leading the way downstairs, as I expected him to, he slips inside the room. First closing the door behind him, he then cups my face in his hands and drops his head down, crushing my mouth with a bruising kiss. “What was that for?” I want to know when he finally lets me up for air.
“For an evening that should’ve ended right where we’re standing.”
“Agreed.” A corner of his mouth tugs up at my response.
“Good.” He lets go of my face and grabs one of my hands instead. “Ready to meet the second-best detective on the force?”
“Second-best? Why not the best?”
He grins and pulls me out the door behind him.
“You’ve already met him.”
Chapter 10
Autumn
Tony Ramirez is the guy I first saw Keith with at The Irish.
It would appear a certain level of hotness is a prerequisite of Durango PD’s finest. Like Keith, Tony is dark, with the shimmer of gray in his hair that only cranks up his appeal another notch.
“Sorry we kept you up so late,” he says, handing me a card before he opens the front door. “If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call. Any time, night or day.”
A low growl sounds from behind me as Keith reaches around and snatches the card from my hand. “She can call me.”
“Excuse me,” I pipe up, twisting my head around to throw a scathing look at the big man. “She is standing right here, and she is old enough and wise enough to decide for herself who to call.”
I perch a hand on my hip and hold the other out. Tony bursts out laughing behind me when Keith reluctantly returns the card to me.
“Didn’t thi
nk I’d live to see the day,” Tony taunts, grinning. “The most committed bachelor of La Plata County, brought to his knees by a ballsy redhead.”
“And you,” I turn on the detective, “are just as bad, using me to bait him. Now I’ve had a long fucking night and if you two want to compare dick size, go right ahead, but you’ll have to do it without me. Lock up behind you.” Without another glance at either of them, I walk out of the small hallway and head upstairs.
The low rumble of a muted conversation drifts up the stairs as I’m brushing my teeth, and by the time I flick off the light in the bathroom, I finally hear the front door close. The silence is a little unnerving, and I’m starting to wonder if kicking both of them out was such a stellar idea.
My bed looks inviting, even with my feline roomies taking up a lot of it. I’m exhausted. I just want to go to sleep and not think about my poor little Panda for a bit. My eyes are gritty from forcing back the tears that keep wanting to surface. Fishing my nightie from under the pillow, I whip off my shirt and drop it on the chair by the bed.
Two of the cats suddenly lift their heads, and I sense more than hear someone entering behind me, freezing me on the spot.
Keith
“She’s a firecracker,” Ramirez offers as we watch Autumn stomp off upstairs. “You lucky bastard.”
“Asshole,” I grumble handing him the ziplock bags with the notes and envelopes. “And do your damn job instead of hitting on my girl.”
“That’s no girl. That, my man, is all woman. She’s got balls too, tackling that fire by herself.” My friend is clearly impressed, and it makes me even more irritable than I already was.