Flashover Pt. 01

"It's getting late," he murmured.

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'd like you to stay, but I have to get up and be at work early tomorrow so I can deal with the air conditioner problem."

At least she wanted him stay, and if he was going to have to take a cold shower, it made him feel a little better that she would too. "It's okay," he whispered before kissing her softly again.

The caress of his lips led to another round of kissing before she sighed and gently pushed him away. She held his gaze. "Stop, before I change my mind."

"Is that a bad thing?" he breathed as he feathered kisses over her face.

"It would be at four o'clock in the morning."

He chuckled. "Yeah, probably so." He kissed her again, but with less passion this time. "Thanks for dinner."

She smiled. "Thanks for coming over. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I hope so."

They sat for a moment, watching each other's eyes before she broke contact. She looked almost disappointed as she sighed. He gave her a small smile, and another noisy kiss before slowly squirming out from under her and rising to his feet. She stood with him and then escorted him to the door, still tucked in close. She appeared as reluctant for him to leave as he felt.

He'd just opened the door when he realized his running gear, and uniform pants and shirt, were still in her bedroom. "My clothes!" Stepping past, he hurried to her boudoir and returned with his dirty clothes. Retrieving his clothes had broken the mood and leaving was easier now. He offered her another lingering kiss in parting. "See you tomorrow," he whispered as he slowly pulled back from the kiss, giving her face a soft caress in the process.

"Count on it," she murmured in return.

He stepped out of her house and walked to his car. He gave her a wave over the top, grinning like a love-struck schoolboy as she waggled her fingers in return.

He dropped into the Charger. As he backed down the drive, he saw her standing on the porch, watching him leave. For reasons he couldn't readily explain, it pleased him she was watching, and he was still smiling as he backed into the road and roared away.

.

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THREE

"Sean? Chief Turney is here to see you," Kim's voice said from his phone. He didn't stand on a lot of formality. His officers and dispatchers frequently called him by name in private, unless they were teasing him in some way.

"Send him back." Sean replaced the handset and stood as Brunswick's fire chief stepped into his office. They knew of each other, of course, but they'd never actually met. "Pete? What can I do for you? Have a seat," he said as he waved at a guest chair.

Pete extended his hand. "Sean, nice to finally meet you," he said, shaking Sean's hand before settling into the indicated chair. "The fire yesterday, out at the mill? It looks like it was arson and I wanted to put you in the loop."

Peter Turney was a heavy-set man of nearly seventy, with thinning salt-and-pepper hair, a deeply lined face, and startlingly blue eyes that reminded Sean of the North Carolina sky. He walked with a slight limp, the result of a wrecked car's airbag deploying during a rescue and breaking his hip. The injury had laid him up for a while, but he'd recovered and returned to doing what he loved. Pete was a city institution and had been with the Brunswick Fire Department for fifty-two years. He'd joined as a junior firefighter at sixteen and often proudly claimed he'd retire the day he died. Sean suspected that was true, and if it wasn't, Pete would probably die soon afterwards.

"Arson? I'm not questioning your judgement, but you're sure it wasn't some vagrant?"

Pete shrugged. "Could've been, but if it was a vagrant, he still intended to start the fire. It looks like an accelerant was used."

Sean chewed on his bottom lip a moment. "Okay. Now what? We're not exactly setup to investigate arson."

Pete snorted. "We're not either. The last time this happened we turned it over to Bill."

Sean's lips thinned as the corners of his mouth pulled down. "Okay. Any clues to who?"

Pete smiled. "Nope."

"Come on, help the new guy out!"

"I wish I could, but we've got nothing but a burned mattress. Want to take a look?"

"You'll go with me and tell me what I'm looking at?"

"Sure, if you want."

"I want. You want to ride with me or take two cars?"

"Why don't we go in my truck, that way we can drive right up to the door," Pete offered.

"Sounds good to me. Now?"

"Now's fine if it's good for you."

"Works for me," Sean said as he kicked his chair back and stood. They walked out of his office toward the lobby. Sean paused to stick his head into the dispatcher's office. "I'm going with Pete. He's going to teach me everything he knows about arson."

Pete chuckled and waved from the hall. "Hey Kim. If that's all he wants, we'll be back in fifteen or twenty minutes."

"I've got you covered," Kim said with a nod. "How you doing, Pete? Haven't seen you in a while."

"Still pushing." Sean followed Pete out of the station into the parking lot where he crawled up into Pete's chief's vehicle.

Down the side of the white Dodge Durango was a broad red reflective stripe that started at the front wheel arch. The top of the stripe was even with the top of the wheel opening, then kicked up at an angle on the back door so the bottom of the stripe just cleared the rear tire. In the stripe over the rear tire, FIRE was spelled out in bold white letters. The Brunswick Fire Department shield was on the front doors, breaking the stripe, and CHIEF was spelled out in smaller red letters over the front tire. The red strobes behind the windshield, rear glass, and in the grill completed the look. Like the BPD cruisers, it was a purposeful and attractive looking rig.

"You know," Sean began as Pete backed out of the parking space, "I never expected the job to be like this."

"Like what?"

"This. Murder. Arson. This isn't Boston. I thought I was moving to Mayberry and I'd spend my days walking around the downtown area saying hello to Floyd and Goober."

Pete chuckled and then glanced at his passenger. "If only it were like that. You do know Mayberry was a fictional town, right?"

Sean grinned. "Really? I thought it was a real place."

Pete shrugged. "You should get up to Mt. Airy sometime. That's where Andy Griffith is from, and supposedly Mayberry is based on the place. Maybe it was kind of like Mayberry back in the day, but I'm sure they have all the same problems we do, just like every other place in the country. This is a different town than the one I grew up in, that's for sure."

"You lived here your whole life, right?"

He gave Sean another sly glance. "Not yet."

Sean snickered. "Okay, point taken, but dragging a dead body out of the wastewater plant? That sounds like something that would happen in Boston."

"Just trying to make you feel at home. I tell you though, that was a hell of a thing. Steve Locoste, a murderer? When that was all going down, I would have bet good money you were barking up the wrong tree." Pete looked at Sean. "That's why you're the cop and I'm not."

"You weren't the only one who thought I was looking in the wrong place."

"Yeah. I heard Rudy was giving you a hard time. Don't let it get to you. Rudy's an okay guy."

"You have a lot of problems with arson?"

Pete shook his head. "No, not really. No more so than any other place. The last case where I was sure it was arson was when that guy... what was his name?" he asked himself softly, obviously trying to remember the arsonist's name. "Anyway, that guy who set his truck on fire. Bill couldn't prove it, but we all knew he's the one who did it. That was five or six years ago."

"How did you know it was arson?"

"Things just didn't add up. For example, it's funny how an almost new truck breaks down on the side of the road then bursts into flames, isn't it?"

"That's what happened?"

"Supposedly. The fuel line came loose and sprayed gas all over the place under the hood."

"And that's the reason you think it was arson?"

Pete shrugged. "If he'd stayed with the truck, I might have bought the story. That's what most people would have done, right? Open the hood to see what was wrong, see the flame and either try to put it out or call the fire department. But not him. He went home to call a tow truck. He said the truck was fine when he left it. Fire doesn't work that way. If it was going to light off it would have done it immediately. Once the truck stopped running and he turned off the key, the chance of it catching on fire went way down. And what's wrong with his cell phone? Plus, I'd have waited at my truck for the tow, wouldn't you?"

Sean nodded. "Yeah, sounds guilty to me too, but it's all circumstantial."

"Yeah. That's what Bill said. In the investigation, he turned up the guy was in arrears on his payments and the finance company was trying to repossess his truck, but he couldn't tie the guy to the fire. Arson is hard to prove. Something like only fifteen percent of arson cases result in an arrest."

Sean made a face, his right eye squinting as he twisted his mouth to the side. "Fifteen percent? You're not making me feel any better about this."

"You have a better chance of figuring it out than I do. Remember what I said about Locoste?"

"Yeah, but I don't know anything about fire, arson, or any of that stuff," Sean protested. "I'm just a computer nerd with a badge."

Pete chuckled as he slowed, turned into the North State Textiles mill property, and then drove them across what was once a parking lot. "I don't know anything about investigating a crime, either. Besides, I think you've proven you're more than 'just a computer nerd with a badge,' and I'll help you anyway I can. Who knows, maybe you'll be one of the lucky ones."

Pete pulled to a stop by the first of the three buildings and they stepped out of his truck. Sean glanced around. The North State Textiles lot was huge, encompassing the two massive mill buildings and a third, smaller utilities building, along with a fair amount of adjacent land. The entirety of the lot easily enclosed three or four city blocks. The lot was choked with waist high weeds, small trees, and brush. It was obvious nobody had cared for the grounds for a very long time. Under his feet was tarmac that had been reduced by nature to little more than gravel. Looking around, it was impossible to tell where the parking lot ended and the rest of the grounds began, assuming there was anything other than the parking lot. Nature would soon finish reclaiming what man had once called his.

Sean followed Pete into the building. The structure was enormous, with widely spaced brick walls dividing the area up into huge open rooms, the concrete floor high above supported by heavy steel pillars. Pete turned right and led Sean deeper into the building. What glass remained in the windows was so dirty that little light entered, and those which were broken could do little to eliminate the gloom. Looking around, Sean tried to imagine the space as luxury apartments instead of the dull, dank, and dingy area it was now, but failed.

"Watch your step," Pete said, pointing to some wicked looking bolts sticking out of the floor.

They stopped before a singed area on the brick outer wall with a badly burned mattress ripped to shreds on the floor. The smell of charring was still strong. "What am I looking at? Besides the obvious I mean?" Sean asked.

"The mattress was the ignition source. It was already engulfed by the time the company arrived. The fire was still relatively small so we did a direct attack to knock it down before it got out of hand, but there's no way the mattress should have gone up like it did. Not without some help. It was propped against the wall." Pete pointed to the blackened and stained masonry. "See where it was flaming up on the bricks?"

"Don't mattresses catch on fire all the time?"

"Not like this they don't. It was blazing. Mattresses since the nineties don't burn... well, not very well or easily. They smolder first. The way this one was burning it had to have been doused in something. Probably gasoline if I had to guess. Also, with it propped against the wall like it was, that at least suggests someone was trying to cause the fire to spread. It's not like a cigarette could be dropped on it to start the fire with it propped up like that."

Sean rubbed his chin. "What am I supposed to do with this? I mean, we know the homeless are using this place as a kind of flop house, but..." he said, raising his hands and holding them out in front of him, palms up.

Pete shrugged. "Beats me. Our procedures state if we suspect arson we're to report it to the police department." He grinned, the laugh lines around his eyes appearing. "Consider it reported. Now it's your problem."

"Gee, thanks," Sean said, looking the area over. There was a bunch of trash, the blackened wall, the charred and ripped mattress, and not much else.

"I can tell you the guy who did this is an amateur. Placing the mattress against a brick wall like this and not splashing more of the accelerant around almost guaranteed the fire wasn't going anyplace, not with the concrete floor above. Even if we hadn't arrived, it would have probably burned itself out."

If it were winter, Sean could imagine someone setting the fire to try to stay warm, but staying warm wasn't a problem now. "So, it probably was a vagrant?"

Pete shrugged again. "Don't know. By the time we got here the place was empty, of course."

"What do you think happened?"

Pete glanced around then returned his attention to Sean. "My guess... the guy propped the mattress against the wall, poured on gasoline, threw a match, and ran the moment he saw the flame."

"Who reported it?"

"Motorist. Saw the smoke and called 9-1-1."

Sean nodded. He'd check with Kim when he got back to the station to see if there was any more to the call. "You realize there's no way we'll ever catch him if that's what happened."

Pete grinned, obviously enjoying the predicament he was placing Sean in. "Probably not, but that's your problem, not mine. It stopped being my problem as soon as I told you about it."

"You're enjoying this far too much," Sean complained, but his tone took the sting out of his words.

Pete's smile spread. "Yeah, I am," he said, but then turned serious. "I know I've put you in a bind. I don't expect you to catch whoever did this, and nobody else should either, but procedures say I have to tell you, and now I have. I wouldn't worry about it too much unless we get a bunch of fires starting. If that happens then maybe we can piece something together to give you a place to start, but if it's a one off, there's not much either of us can do."

"And if Rudy comes pounding on my door again?"

"Then you send him to me and I'll explain it to him. Why would he, though? I think you've proven you know what you're doing with that Locoste thing."

"Maybe," Sean muttered. Rudy had apologized, and hadn't meddled since, but he hadn't forgotten either. The Mills at Brunswick was Rudy's pet project, and when he found out arson was suspected, that'd be when he'd know if the mayor had truly learned his lesson.

"Anything else you want to see?" Pete asked.

"Anything else I should see?"

"No. This is pretty much it. If this had been in a residential structure it would have been a lot worse because there would have been a much higher fire load. But here? It was more of a training exercise for my guys than anything else."

"Then I guess I've seen all I need to."

Pete nodded his head in the direction they came. "Okay. Let's get out of here then."

As soon as he sat down in Pete's truck, Sean turned the passenger side air conditioner vents so the cool air would hit him in the face, sighing in relief as the air began to flow. They rode back to the police station in relative silence, Pete pulling to a stop in front of the building but not turning his truck off.

"I'll have my guys ask around, and I'll let you know if we find anything, but I'm not going to waste a lot of manpower on this," Sean said as he cracked the door of the Durango.

"I don't blame you, but maybe you'll get lucky and stumble across some guy with his eyebrows singed off."

Sean chuckled as he pushed the door wide. "That's probably what it'll take, but even then, all he'd have to do is claim it was a barbecuing accident."

Pete nodded. "Yeah. I've put out more than one barbecue fire gone wrong. Thanks for your help."

"We'll do what we can."

"That's all I need to hear."

Sean gave him a nod and shut the door. As Pete backed away, he entered the station. He'd check with Kim to be sure, but if the 9-1-1 was what Pete said, a motorist passing by seeing smoke, he wasn't going to waste any time or effort on this.