“The department doesn’t want this to get out so it’s your job to keep your mouth shut about this.”
“I don’t even know whatthisis,” I remind him.
“The night that Corey got hurt is when we began putting the pieces together. There’s an arsonist in Williamsport.”
My anger growing, I fold my arms over my chest but remain silent, waiting for Don to explain.
“He typically targets women home alone with their young children, most of the time when they’re sleeping. The fathers are often away on business trips or work overnights. We got a couple of calls, and as the investigator I started noticing a pattern. But as we honed in more and more on what was happening, it became obvious that Rescue Four was a target. The beam that fell on Corey wasn’t an accident. Wasn’t just a happenstance of the fire. Someone had intentionally disrupted the beam. Cut it to weaken the structure. It looked as if they were trying to cause a total building collapse but failed.”
I look around the circle at the faces of Don, Sean, and Carter. Their expressions range from serious to pissed off.
“So you’re saying what happened to Corey wasn’t an accident, and there’s an arsonist specifically targeting the firefighters of Rescue Four?” Hot anger begins coursing through my body.
“We believe so.”
“Believe?”
“There hasn’t been anymore instances in some time. What happened to Corey could be just a fluke. At least, that’s what the brass at the department is pushing. Many of the fires I suspect are arsons were made to look like they’re the result of faulty electrical wiring or a negligent parent forgetting to turn off the fireplace before heading to bed.”
“Or not putting out a cigarette,” Sean adds.
“That too. They’re difficult to pin down, and we’re not getting any movement from above. There’s no way to prove it.”
“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “Did you say this person intentionally looks for mothers with young children while they’re sleeping?”
Don nodded. “Yeah, the problem is that it’s typically only Rescue Four that gets those calls because they’re in our district.”
“Station Two got one of your calls,” I say out loud but not to anyone in particular. I feel their gazes shift in my direction but I’m staring at the concrete floor in front of me. “It was a late night about eight months ago. For whatever reason, Station Two was called on the job. I think all of the Rescue Four trucks were out. A mother, her three-week-old infant, and five-year-old son were home sleeping in bed …”
The memory of that night comes back in full force just as it always does. I can practically feel the smoke surrounding me as I mentally walk through every step I took that night.
“I pulled the mother and baby out. That’s when she said her son was still inside. I’d done a sweep of his room the first time around. But he was hiding in the closet. I found him the second time I went in, but by then he was so badly burned and had so much smoke inhalation … he died at the hospital four hours later.”
I raise my gaze to look across the circle at Don. “I earned a fucking Webster for that rescue. Are you telling me that that night was the job of an arsonist?”
Don’s eyes widen as he glances between all of us. “How the fuck did we miss that?” There’s pain in his voice.
“It wasn’t our call,” Sean consoles.
Suddenly, Don’s eyes widen and his mouth momentarily falls open. “It was the night of Eric’s wedding.”
The three men’s eyes widen as the memory comes back. Rescue Four was down to only a few firefighters that night due to the wedding. Their calls were rerouted.
“Shit,” Carter curses angrily. “We thought … fuckinghopedthat the son of a bitch had just given up. But he’s still at it.”
“That was eight months ago. Why hasn’t the department done anything?” My voice is dripping in anger.
“Those fuckers don’t believe we’re dealing with an arsonist or that we’re being targeted. Like I said, he makes it appear as if they’re accidents.”
“So what are we doing in the meantime?”
“We’re watching each others’ backs,” Don says before stepping forward, moving closer to me. “I know you think Captain Waverely is being overly cautious or another empty shirt like your last captain. He’s not. He’s the real fucking deal. But he’s known something was off for a long time. That’s why any call we go on, we don’t split up unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
Getting Don’s meaning, I nod. “You checked into my former captain?”
He gives out a half chuckle, half grunt. “Captain fucking Rogers? Yeah, I looked into him a little while researching you.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Now, there’s a surprise.”
