A Flame in the Wind of Death

by Ann Vanderlaan

  “What’s the status here?” Matt asked.

  “Two alarms called so far, but it’s about to go to three. Come on, walk and talk.” Bree started back toward the command center. “According to the neighbor who phoned it in, this church has been closed for months. Normally, I’d think that we’d be looking at the homeless using it for shelter and accidentally starting the fire, but the pentacle on the door has me leaning toward arson to match the first pentacle fire.”

  “When was it called in?”

  “Seven thirty-five. Trucks were on scene within four minutes, but these structures are problematic. Masonry like this really holds in the heat and promotes flashover. It tends to hide the fire until it gets big enough to show significantly through the windows. In this case, the fire was spotted by someone driving home and seeing lights in the windows when there shouldn’t be any. Right now, we’re just trying to contain it until we can guarantee no one’s inside. Then we’ll pull everyone out and go defensive.”

  Leigh studied the two trucks pulled up close to the curb, their massive ladders extended, a man perched at the top of each, but no water coming from their hoses. “Is that why there are guys with hoses on the lawn and up the ladders who aren’t doing anything yet?”

  “Yes. You can’t fight the fire from the outside and inside simultaneously because you could bring the building down on the crews inside.”

  “What about them?” Matt pointed at the team of men, in black turnout gear instead of Salem’s beige, axes in hand and wearing air packs, poised at the front door. “Are they waiting for something?”

  “That’s the RIT—Rapid Intervention Team—Marblehead sent to help out. They’re there in case anyone goes down inside while they’re searching the structure.”

  “Those guys inside better move fast. From the way the flames are spurting out at the roofline, you may lose the roof.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. These walls aren’t buttressed. The compression of the roof is what’s keeping the building standing and with this fire load, the roof is going to start coming down.”

  Leigh turned to watch fountains of flame pour out of holes in the roof, mixing with thick, choking black smoke. Red and orange light shifted behind the windows and flames licked around stained glass, greedy fingers reaching for fresh air and life-giving oxygen. “You’re worried the whole thing will collapse.”

  “Yes. There are four teams in there right now. It collapses around them, and we could lose men.” She pointed upwards. “That’s the real problem.”

  Leigh stared up at the steeple. The wooden slats that originally covered the twin arches on each wall of the tower had burned away and the glow of the fire outlined the heavy bell. Her gaze tracked downward. Inside the front doors, she could see men backlit against the flames as they sprayed water in a futile attempt to control the chaos while searching for any signs of life.

  “That bell is probably a ton of solid bronze,” Bree continued. “It’s a matter of whether we can save the internal wooden supports.”

  “It must be hard to have to stand back here and watch.”

  Bree’s gaze flicked to Leigh. “After all those years being in the fire? Yeah. I’m not usually at an active fire anymore, I come in after the fact, but one of the guys gave me a heads-up after they found the pentacle.” Her hands balled into fists. “I haven’t felt the need to get in there in years, but I’m feeling it now. In spades.”

  An SUV pulled up near the scene, its lights flashing brilliantly, and a tall man in a Salem Fire Department uniform climbed out. “Chief’s arrived,” Bree said.

  “Does he always come out to fires?”

  “Anything two alarm and higher.”

  They arrived at the command center just as the chief joined them. He and Bree nodded to each other in greeting. Then the deputy chief’s walkie-talkie screeched to life. “Engine Two to Deputy Joseph.”

  “Command answering.”

  “One victim found. Request standby crew.”

  “Affirmative. Give current location.”

  “Bravo Charlie corner.”

  Leigh flicked a look at Bree who read her silent question. “The walls are labeled alphabetically as Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta starting with the front wall and going clockwise around. They found someone in the back left corner of the sanctuary and are asking for help getting them out.”

  “Engine Five from command,” the deputy chief said into the walkie-talkie.

  The radio crackled as a new voice came on. “Engine Five.”

  “Single victim found, Bravo Charlie corner. Proceed to the rear entrance of the church to assist Engine Two.”

  “Okay on the message.”

  “Someone’s alive in there?” Matt asked.

  “No way to know. If we find a body during an active fire, we bring it out. It’s too smoky in there to see and you don’t have the time to take a pulse or check for respiration. You just get them out. Once they’re in the clear, we’ll know more.”

  The radio squawked again. “Engine Two to Deputy Joseph.”

  “Command answering.”

  “We’re bringing the victim out.”

  “Message received. Bring the victim to the front lawn.”

  “Come on,” Bree said. “We’ll meet them over there.”

  Matt, Leigh and Bree jogged across the street and through the gate, skirting the edge of the property to stand waiting against the fence, looking toward the back of the church. Several paramedics carrying heavy packs joined them in case the victim needed medical attention. Finally a team of four men came around the back corner of the church, two of them carrying a limp body. They laid the body down in the grass and several paramedics knelt as Matt and Leigh crouched closer for a better look.

  The body was badly burned, the skin singed and blistered. The clothing was mostly burned away and the body was partially curled into a fetal position. The hair on the head was gone, as were the eyebrows. Leigh’s lips curled in distaste as she realized the ears were also missing. The smell of freshly burned flesh was almost unbearable.

  One of the paramedics looked up to find Bree. He silently shook his head and repacked his bag.

  Bree pulled her radio off her belt. “Trooper Gilson to Deputy Joseph.”

  Static over the radio, then, “Command answering.”

  “We have a confirmed fatality.”

  “Message received.”

  Once the paramedics moved away, Matt dropped to his knees beside the corpse. He leaned in to take a good look before glancing up at Leigh. “You need to see this. Come around to the other side.”

  Leigh circled the body and several firefighters to kneel opposite Matt.

  “Anyone got a flashlight?” he asked.

  At least half a dozen flashlights were pulled from turnouts by the firefighters around them. Matt accepted Bree’s.

  “Thanks.” He looked at Leigh. “Ready?” When she nodded, he slipped gloved fingers under the chin of the victim, gently tipping it up. He flipped on the flashlight shining it directly down on the neck.

  The slash across the throat nearly went from ear to ear. The heat had pulled back muscle tissue, exposing the ridged windpipe beneath. The tissue was charred, but the damage was unmistakable.

  Leigh sat back on her heels. “Dead before the fire started, then.”

  “Autopsy will tell us that.”

  Around them, firefighters dispersed, heading back to the fire as the victim was beyond their help.

  Leigh looked up at Bree, still crouched over the body. “Are they still looking for more victims?”

  “They’ll finish the search, but I think they’ve covered almost all the interior. At this point, I want them out ASAP.” Her gaze trailed back to the steeple.

  “You need to call Rowe,” Matt said to Leigh. “I don’t think we need him here tonight, but he needs to send some techs for the body.”

  “Agreed.” Leigh pushed up from the ground, already reaching for her phone.

  “Wait.”r />
  She froze. “What?”

  Matt leaned over the body and swore softly. “Come in closer.” He waited as Leigh drew in a breath of fresh air before leaning in. He pointed to metal burned into blackened tissue. “This doesn’t say ‘homeless person’ to me.”

  It was a blackened cross with blunt knobs on three of the four arms.

  She met his gaze over the ruined remains. “A priest?”

  “That would be my guess with a cross this large. I’d assume this is something you’d wear over your clothes, not under them, or as a charm on a necklace.”

  “Guys, we need to move this body.” Bree whistled, and motioned two firefighters over. “Let’s move the vic near the fence so the body is out of the way before we go defensive.” She pointed a finger at the younger of the two men. “Joe, find a tarp to cover it. Then I need you to stay with it until someone from the ME’s office arrives. No one touches this body unless Trooper Abbott or I give permission.”

  Leigh stood. “I’ll call Rowe.” She walked a few feet away to make the call.

  When she returned a few minutes later, the body lay near the fence, its lower half covered with a bright yellow tarp. Bree squatted down next to Matt, her head bent low as he indicated something on the victim. “Rowe’s sending up a van and a couple of techs,” Leigh told them. “He agrees that he doesn’t need to be here, but he’ll make time tomorrow for the autopsy.” She turned to Matt as he unfolded the rest of the tarp to cover the body and then stood. “Do you need to be there? Would this body be considered a forensic anthropology case?”

  “No, it’s not burned badly enough. But I’d like to be there if Rowe doesn’t mind. It’s definitely connected to our case.”

  “I’ll clear it with him. You’re already a part of this case so—”

  A huge section of roof near the middle of the building suddenly collapsed in a cyclone of spinning flames, swirling black smoke and an explosion of sparks. As flames billowed toward them, the team of firefighters in the foyer hurriedly backed out to stand in the ruined doorway, dragging the heavy hose with them. An explosion of orders and responses burst from Bree’s radio.

  “That’s it. Everyone needs to get out now. Screw standing on the sidelines. I’m headed to the operations center. The DC will need help accounting for everyone.” Bree took off like a shot, sprinting over the grass toward the road.

  As if on cue, a bellowed shout somehow managed to rise above the cacophony of flame, radio chatter, engine roar and water stream. “It’s coming down. Get clear!”

  Leigh’s breath seemed to freeze in her lungs as the steeple swayed drunkenly, fire framed in every broken window. It hung there, almost motionless for a moment before the tower crumpled with a terrible grinding noise, collapsing into the gaping flames below with a crash that vibrated the ground under their feet. The remaining sections of the roof shuddered and began to fall inwards. With the loud grating of stones being ripped apart, one of the side walls of the church began to buckle outwards in a thick cloud of dust and debris. Several firemen on the grass leapt clear as the heavy stones thundered to the ground, then quickly got back into position, careful to leave a good distance between themselves and any other potentially unstable walls.

  Matt pulled Leigh back several paces even though they were well clear of the collapse, his crushing grip on her arm belying his outward calm. “He’s killing more than just his victims. If we lose any firefighters . . .” Matt turned his gaze back to the fire.

  “Come on. Maybe we can do something to help.” Leigh looked at the fireman still kneeling beside the body. “Stay with the victim.” He gave a quick nod and she and Matt sprinted after Bree.

  The operations center was a frantic hive of activity. The chief, deputy chief and Bree were clustered around the accountability board, checking off men as they were located. Several senior firefighters clustered around them.

  Bree glanced at them as they ran up, stress and worry carving deep grooves around her mouth. “We can’t raise one of the crews,” she said curtly before turning back to her radio, trying to contact the missing men.

  Leigh turned back to the blaze. The RIT team was gone, disappeared into the flames, their path marked by the new hose leading through the central door. Firemen fled the building, some under their own power, others with help. But when a firefighter staggered out the front door, face mask askew and half carrying, half dragging the limp body of a comrade, Matt grabbed Leigh’s arm. “I’m going over. They’re shorthanded now and I can help.”

  She nodded, wishing she had the skills to join him. “Go. Be careful and stay well clear of the building.”

  He bolted off toward the injured men, sprinting through the gate and toward the far side of the property where men were collapsing against the bars of the wrought-iron fence.

  “Hey! Where is he going?” Bree took a half step after him, but Leigh jumped forward, catching her arm.

  “Let him go. He was a battlefield medic with the Marines in Afghanistan after 9/11. He probably knows more about emergency triage than anyone else here. Let him help.”

  Bree shook off Leigh’s hand, but gave a quick nod of her head as the radio in her hand squawked and she turned back to the accountability board.

  Across the grass, Matt quickly joined the impromptu medical station. He immediately bent over to assess an injured firefighter sprawled on the grass, weakly trying to pull off his face mask with a gloved hand. Several medics ran up, carrying loaded packs. After a brief discussion, one of them opened his pack, handed some supplies to Matt and they both got to work over the firefighter.

  “HELP! I need help!” A firefighter staggered out the center door of the church. Her face shield was smashed and she was trying to support the body of another firefighter. She made it to the top of the steps before collapsing, both of them tumbling down the steps like limp rag dolls.

  Bree and Leigh took off at a run, beating several firefighters to the bottom of the steps. Bree easily kept up with Leigh, moving amazingly fast for someone wearing so much equipment. Matt met them at the bottom of the steps, where the heat rolled off the fire in blistering waves. The female firefighter was trying to sit up, pushing off her ruined mask. “Cody needs help. I found him under a pile of rubble at the back of the sanctuary.” She coughed raggedly, spraying blood over the sleeve of her turnout coat. Turning her head to the side, she spit out some blood and then wiped her mouth with her glove. “He got caught when the steeple collapsed.”

  “Move them away from there. You’re too close.” Bree looked directly at Matt and Leigh. “Especially you two. Help Eccles.”

  Firefighters picked up the body of their fallen comrade, carrying him across the grass to the temporary medical station, several medics meeting them partway. Matt and Leigh each looped one of the woman’s arms over their shoulders, slowly walking her across the grass. They lowered her down to sit with her back against the fence. Two paramedics joined them, but she batted away their hands. “It’s not that bad. I ate a little smoke and put my teeth through my lip. Go help Cody. He needs you more than I do.”

  “There’s three medics working on him now,” one of the young men said, pushing her hands out of his way and dabbing the blood at her lip. “You need oxygen and that lip’s going to need stitches. Now sit!” He slid an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose, ignoring her protests.

  “Charging to two hundred.”

  The words penetrated the surrounding noise. Leigh whipped around to the man still on the grass. He was surrounded by paramedics and she could only see parts of his body, but it was enough to make her stomach clutch painfully. Blood painted his face, and his eyes were glassy and staring. His coat and shirt were open, exposing his bare chest. One of the paramedics applied paddles to his chest and then his body arched off the grass. The paramedic checked his carotid. “V-fib, no pulse, charging to three hundred.”

  Leigh felt Matt move up behind her, his chest at her back as he watched the scene over her shoulder. As the injured man was sho
cked a second time.

  “Still no pulse. Charging to three sixty.”

  Two men ran up, pushing a gurney over the grass.

  “Let’s move him. Start CPR.”

  The still body of the downed man was quickly lifted to the gurney and they started to run with it across the grass, one of the paramedics doing chest compressions as they went.

  “They’re moving him.” Relief loosened some of the tension in her body. “He’s got a chance, then.”

  “No.”

  Leigh turned to find Matt still close behind her. The resigned look on his face made her blood run cold. “What do you mean? They’re taking him in.”

  Matt’s gaze stayed on the gurney as it was lifted into the back of one of the ambulances on the far side of the road. “It’s no good. He’s gone. I’ve seen that look before. His eyes . . .”

  Leigh stared in horror as the ambulance doors were slammed shut and a paramedic pounded on the doors twice. “They lost him?”

  “They never had him. That’s a major head injury. Paired with smoke inhalation . . . They can’t declare death here, they have to take him in for that. But it’s too late.”

  Lights flashing and siren wailing, the ambulance sped off down the street, carrying its futile burden.

  Fury tightened Leigh’s chest and vibrated through her frame—they’d lost one of their own in the fight.

  “NO!” The bellow from across the grass had them both spinning toward the sound. A burly firefighter was struggling against one of his comrades, his face a twisted mask of pain. Another firefighter jogged up to them yelling instructions accompanied with jerky hand motions. The other man’s head bent as he stood stiffly on the grass, a dark, miserable figure backlit by the raging fire. The man yelling instructions clapped a hand on the firefighter’s shoulder before his head rose to give a curt nod. The group broke up, returning to work with heavy feet and even heavier hearts.

  Leigh touched Matt’s arm. When he turned to face her, she saw her own distress mirrored in his eyes. “Go back to the medics. I’m going to see if I can help Bree. I might just be in the way, but I won’t know until I ask. It’s killing me to stand here, doing nothing.”