A Perfect Match

I can also make out a faint smell even over my mask. It is almost fruity. Acetone? Ethyl Acetate? Not many flammable substances smell like this.

"Found the body," I hear Lauren say, and turn to see her in a crouched position looking through some debris. "She didn't have a chance. It's like she melted into the chair," I hear her mumble under her mask. The protective goggles are magnifying her eyes, so she looks like an anime character.

"I've got enough to make the call, let's head outside," I say, and Lauren follows me out. We dress down our protective gear and I pull out my phone to call Chief Oleander.

"Sir, it's me," I say once he answers, and he asks the status. "The fire is out, and the structure is sound for entry. Did the initial walk through, plenty of evidence suggesting arson," I explain, and he says he is calling the State Fire Marshal's office to send an investigator. "How long till they arrive?" About an hour I am told.

I end the conversation and look at Detective Hill.

"A fire investigator is in route and they could be here in about an hour. We'll contain the scene for now. You gonna wait around?" I ask, and she thinks for a moment.

"I think I'll start doing some interviews," Lauren says, and I nod in agreement.

"Okay, I'll keep things here tight until the investigator arrives. You got a card or something if I need to reach you?" I ask, and sure enough she pulls out a business card with her information on it. "I'll keep you informed."

-

Friday - May 15, 2026

-Chase Kramner-

I ran through the information I obtained on Marlene and presented it to the assistant DA Daniel Huddleston. He looks through the documentation quietly for nearly thirty minutes, stopping to only ask an occasional question.

Daniel Huddleston's office is not like most of the other DA offices I have been in and out of for nearly a decade. In those, you can see the clear evidence of someone overworked with piles of folders and boxes of legal files festooned throughout the space. While he certainly has a lot of files, his space is organized and deliberately easy to walk through. Against his wall under the windows are notes taped to the glass with words like violent crime, narcotics, sexual crime, and under those notes are those respective cases.

Behind his desk and on it is memorabilia from his time in the Marine Corps as a JAG officer. His coffee mug has the words Semper Fi, Latin for Always Faithful, and the motto of the Corps.

Daniel kept his Marine Corps high and tight haircut. He clearly shops at Men Big and Tall, but not for the reason most men who shop there do. He is big and bulky, slight gut from age, but not someone anyone in their right mind wants to get in a fight with.

After Daniel looks over the documents, he removes his glass and places them on his desktop.

"It's weak," Daniel says to give me his initial assessment.

"You have to admit it's suspicious," I say, and he crosses his arms as he leans back into his chair.

"It is, don't get me wrong. You were on the legal track in college, right?" he asks, and I nod. "Tell me how this sounds to a jury. A police officer who is the ex-boyfriend of the accused found evidence, over a year later. The evidence itself, is not inculpatory, and purely circumstantial."

He is right of course. He has been doing this for twenty-two years in the Marines and for another fifteen years from that desk. I was only accepted to law school.

"That's not even including the fact we'd need to extradite her to this state. She will file a writ of habeas corpus, and there is no judge in this country who would dismiss it," he adds. He is right.

"Is it strong enough for a warrant, here?" I ask, pointing down, referring to this jurisdiction.

"Depends on what judge you put it in front of. Rook will shoot it down. She's the most cooperative with police when the paperwork is good, but if you don't do your homework, she's a firm fourth amendment judge. So is Gilreath, unless it is narcotics related, he'll sign just about anything. You and I both know if you get shot down by one judge and go to another, you'll burn both. Judges don't like that mommy and daddy bullshit."

"What do we need to find to make this stronger?" I ask.

"I'm not going to tell you what to find. You should already know. Find evidence," he says, and I feel my hand start to shake a little. "Pull back open all of the evidence of the case. You have access to phone records from the accused and Ms. Hopkins. You have the court documents from the sexual criminal complaint in Indiana. Interview the cooperating witnesses again. At least the one who is still alive. Get statements from the other people in the video. Simply put, do your job."

This is what it feels like to have someone smarter than me tell me how to do something. I really need to be more conscious of my tone if I sound like this to people. Even if he is right, which he is.

"Most importantly, have someone else do it. Not your old partner, there isn't enough separation there. Someone else in homicide, namely someone who was not there when this case was being investigated. You recused yourself, remember that. One thing for sure, be ready to take the stand. We'll try our best to keep you off a witness list, but it's unlikely that will fly considering you found this evidence and your past relationship with the accused. Without you testifying, it's hearsay. How many times have you been in court?"

"Seventeen," I say, and he thinks for a moment. "I'm ready for a trial."

"Are you?" he asks. "This will not be remotely the same. The defense will poke and prod everything about you and your relationship to her. If you ever raised your voice to her. If you said something negative about her to a coworker. Your work performance. Every case you've ever handled will be scrutinized."

"I understand that," I say, and he puts his glasses back on.

"You got someone in homicide who can take this over?" he asks. "Not your former partner."

"The only person I know who wasn't there during this case is Midge Appletree," I reply, and he starts looking for her in his computer.

"This everything you have?" he asks, gesturing toward the documents I gave him. I nod to confirm it is. "You got copies?" I nod. "I'll keep these and have my aid make a copy for Detective Appletree and forward them to him."

"Her. Midge," I say, and he corrects himself.

"I thought you said Mitch, my bad. I'll get these to her. Step one is getting the case reopened. If we find more evidence, we get warrants. With those we can make the case for arrest and extradition to this state. We might put it in front of a Grand Jury to pad that order out. We might not even see her in front of a jury for a year. This will not be a fast process."

"I know that," I say, and he calls in his assistant to start making copies.

"You have one job right now, do you know what that is?"

"Stay the hell out of the way?" I ask, and he nods.

"Good," he says and starts repackaging the files. "Go to work. You won't hear from me, keep your distance."

"Okay," I say and stand up from the chair. "Thanks for hearing me out."

"Give me a case I can win," he says, and we shake hands before I leave.

-

Friday - May 15, 2026

-Sheryl House-

I exit my vehicle a block down from a burned-out apartment complex where a group of firemen and police are still keeping the scene secure. At the edge of the tape an officer is keeping a crime scene log and I check myself in with my credentials. I don't like how many people are here, it increases the amount of scene contamination, but the Lieutenant on site does seem to be maintaining a cordon away from the primary scene.

I was told my POC was Lieutenant Shane Watts. I ask the first person I see for him, and I am pointed in his direction. He is a tall, muscular man with short cropped hair with his fire jacket off but the overalls still on. Squared jaw with a cleft chin, and a shaven face.

"Lieutenant?" I ask, and he confirms he is. "Fire Investigator Sheryl House."

"Thanks for coming," he says, and I gesture toward the building. We start walking and I adjust my service weapon a little. Little known fact, State Fire Investigators are not much different from criminal investigators. We're just more specialized. Unlike a fireman, I have arrest authority, thus I have a gun and handcuffs.

"What evidence did you find on your walkthrough?" I ask.

"Warping on the front window from the inside, uneven with a multiple V patterns. Uneven scorch patterns on the carpet, which appears fire resistant. Likely a clear burning accelerant. Parts smelled almost fruity," he says.

"Citrus like?"

"More like a pear. I'm thinking acetone or ethyl acetate. Nail polish remover or a paint thinner," he says, and I concur.

"Fatalities?" I ask.

"So far, just one. ME's office got the body about twenty minutes ago. All actions were recorded and documented," he says, and I ask to see that footage when we're done here.

"How many people have been in the building?" I ask.

"A police detective, my recorder, two people from the ME's staff, and myself. That's it," he says, and I thank him for keeping it under control.

"How did the fire respond when you were putting it out?" I ask.

"Normal procedure was ineffective. That made me assume a fire fueled by a chemical additive, so sprayed the exteriors to contain spread. It mostly burned itself out in a few hours," he replies.

"Quick, short lived accelerant?" I ask and he nods. "Intense heat. Consistent with acetone or ethyl acetate."

"The occupant said she heard a small explosion, but the windows held out if that was the case. I really doubt this building has windows that strong. Not in this neighborhood."

"Back draft?"

"Not that we saw. It was strong enough to weaken the ceiling and collapse the second floor though," he says as we get to the door.

"Vents on ceiling for central air?"

"Couldn't tell you, seeing how the ceiling is on the floor," he says, and I make mental note to get a schematic of the building.

"Points of origin?" I ask.

"Waiting for your word to start clearing out the debris so we can focus on that. Burn pattern was inconsistent, but the most damage I saw when reviewing the footage waiting for you was directly above the chair where the body was. The heaviest scorching was on the part of the ceiling that didn't fall above it."

I do my walkthrough and annotate everything while listening as he points things out. I'm surprised he isn't an investigator, because he knows his way around a fire scene. I open a few more cabinets and see several of the dishes and cups, but none of them had shattered from the concussion. I am beginning to think something sounded like an explosion but wasn't an explosion. There isn't nearly enough structural damage to assume that, and I can tell Shane is skeptical too.

I see a curtain rod on the ground near the windows, warped and bent, and see anchor points on the sides of the window. The curtain is entirely burnt up, but I see a scorch pattern radiating from the chair to the window. I'll know more after we gut this place and tear up the carpet. I make a mental note to tear up a part of the carpet that was away from the fire for a baseline.

"Let's start clearing it out," I say to Shane after we leave. I remove my gear and adjust my hair to my shoulders again. "Definite arson. ME will give us more insight on manslaughter or murder. Do you got a warehouse or a space for me to build a replica?"

"How big do you need?" he asks.

"A larger conference room will work, and maybe an outdoor workspace for controlled test fires," I add, and he nods.

"We don't, our station is pretty lived in. I got a friend in the police who should be able to find you a workspace. How many people do you need to help?" he asks.

"Two or three. Does your police department have an organic CSI lab?"

"Yes, and one of the best teams you'll see. I happen to have her card," he says and hands me a card after digging through his wallet a little. "Jill Whitaker. Her staff will be glad to help."

"Good to know," I say, making a mental note to call this Jill Whitaker right after I'm done here. "Who at the police do I call to get a space?"

"Midge Appletree," he replies, and recalls her number from memory. Men only remember a number for one reason. They're an item, or they were. "Detective."

"Thanks. Let's start clearing it out and I'll call Jill. Keep a log, photograph all items, you know what you're doing," I say and start walking away. I hear Shane start rallying his team and I dial Jill's number into my phone. I try her desk phone and receive an answer.

"CSI lab, Chief Whitaker," a woman replies.

"Hey Chief Whitaker, this is Sheryl House from the Fire Marshall's office, how are you doing today?" I ask.

"This about that fire on Lakeview?" Jill asks. She has likely already prepped her team to be on standby. My kind of woman.

"Nothing gets passed you, huh?" I ask with a small laugh that she returns. "Sure is. We could use a few extra hands and a lab. You got some people to spare?"

"I told my girl Frankie to get some coffee a few blocks away and be ready, she's in spitting distance. She can be there in a few minutes," she explains. Goddamn I love this woman. Gives her staff a good long coffee break, but in position expecting our call.

"That would be great? You got HCA in that lab?"

"I got HCA, LDA, chromatographic analysis. If there is a chemical there, we'll find it," Jill says, and I am beaming with excitement. A good lab is often too much to ask for.

"You or your staff got experience in building replicas?" I ask.

"Not for a fire, but we're always up for learning something new," she says.

"Good to hear. Get ready to drink from a fire hose. No pun intended," I say, and she laughs, then lets me know Frankie would be on her way in just a few minutes.

-

Saturday - May 16, 2026

-Lauren Hill-

The ME report for the dead body at the fire from yesterday has interesting news this morning. There was no smoke in her lungs, so she did not die from smoke inhalation. In her nostrils, he found traces of burnt fabric. A synthetic blend of polyester and cotton, which can be found on a pillowcase. Some traces were in her mouth as well, better preserved. She was smothered to death before the fire started. This was an arson meant to hide a murder.

I hand the case off to William Kaiser in homicide and give him my statement by lunch before I proceed back to my normal duties. Frank is already at his desk when I get back from my debriefing with Homicide.

In theory I should be off today as I'm off weekend rotation, but I came back to see if the scammer had replied to my email. Frank is digging through the files I couldn't get to because of the arson case and looks up at me when I enter the office.

"How'd that arson go?" he asks.

"Arson to cover up a murder, by the looks of it. Not our case anymore," I say and have a seat, booting up both of my computers. "How'd that stolen license plate go?"

"Gut instinct panned out. Got his vehicle searched and found about ten kilos hidden in the seats," he says, and I look over at him. "What made me curious was that the license plate he stole, was from the same model of car, it shows some well-considered intent. Like your arson case, Narcotics has it."

"Damn," I say, truly impressed. Lazy, but his instincts are still solid.

"Why are you here? You're off, aren't you?" he asks.

"Just wanted to check on something before I head home," I say and my computer finishes starting up. I log in and open my email, to see that the idiot had indeed hit the link. His IP address put him in...the city. "Holy shit."

"What?"

"This scammer I've been phishing, he's in the city," I say, and turn the computer to him. "I did the IP retrace on him, and he's in the city."

"That's a first," he says, looking at it himself.

"What do we do now?" I ask. I never imagined we'd get someone in the country let alone our own jurisdiction.

"Does he know you're in the city?" he asks, and I nod. "What kind of scam is he doing?"

"IRS scam," I say, and he asks for particulars. "Claims to be an IRS collections agent and that my social security number has been used to fraudulently open credit cards in several states, and I'm liable for roughly a few hundred thousand. My assets are frozen apparently unless I pay a fine of a few thousand."

"Amateur," he says shaking his head. "That's not even a felony if it was true. IRS wouldn't give a flying fuck."

"I know that, but an elderly victim or someone ignorant wouldn't, that's who these things target. How do we reel this guy in?" I ask.

"He clearly isn't using a VPN," he says, and I nod, "Which means he likely isn't careful with masking the metadata of his emails. He's tech literate, but not tech savvy. Do your due diligence and confer with legal first, you'll likely need a warrant to really dig into that. While you're waiting for that, get him to agree to a change of payment method. See if a direct deposit is possible, a transaction we can actually trace. I doubt he'd go for it, but try anyway."

Frank is lazy. Very lazy. He is an old, tired detective, just waiting to sign his retirement paperwork. But he is not stupid, his spark is still there. When he wants to be, he is still a detective. He just doesn't want to be one all that often.

"I'll send that email right now," I say and get to work.

-

Saturday - May 16, 2026

-William Kaiser-

Just when I planned on enjoying a lovely weekend with Abigail and Ursula, I get a call that the arson yesterday was used to cover up a murder. Midge is wrapped up in a different case right now with Officer Graham, so I have to come into the office to do an official transfer of responsibility with Lauren.

Seeing how hard she has worked to get her shield, it's nice to see her tackling a case like this. Granted she didn't have to do a whole lot because the fire department makes the arson call, but she gets to go out and acquire some case time.

Lauren and I meet in the conference room on the second floor so she can hand off her notes from her interview with me. She told me she forwarded via email the fire department's recording of their initial walkthrough and the ME report is already in my inbox.

"What was the disposition of..." I ask Lauren while looking through her notes. "Kimberly Drew when you interviewed her?"

"Kind of in shock. Emotional," she says.

"Did it look like a put on?" I ask and she shakes her head.

"No. Very shaky, stammering, hard for her to put thoughts to words. Almost erratic," she says, and I write that down.

"What about the kid?"

"Distant, vacant, easily distracted. He spent most of our conversation on his mother's phone. I think he might be special needs, but I didn't broach it with the parent. Felt inappropriate," she says, and I tap my pen on the paper.

"Lauren," I say, and she looks at me intently. "You believed the boy may have been special needs, but left the room without confirming that?" She seems to understand that was a mistake, and she nods slowly. "I understand you don't want to be aggressive to people after a tragedy, but there are tactful ways to ask the question. Ask to speak without the child present, use euphemisms."

"I should have thought about that, I'm sorry," she says.

"Don't apologize, just learn. You're still new, you can still use that as an alibi," I say with a smile that she returns.

"Thanks Will," she says.

"Smothered with a pillow is what the ME is saying. Arson to hide the murder. I think I got enough to work with on the material evidence side of this. Did you interview the upstairs neighbors?"