“It does,” I confirm. “My shift ends in an hour.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
An hour later, I’m walking out of Rescue Four and climbing behind the wheel of my Camaro as Don gets in the passenger seat. Moments later, we’re heading across town in the direction of my old station house.
“What are you expecting to get out of this questioning?”
I watch out of the corner of my eye as Don runs a hand down his face, sighing. “Some answers as to what happened that night. I know from your perspective what happened. But I need to know more about what started the fire. Was it really an accident or were there signs that this was done on purpose? The other fires—”
“The ones you’re sure were arsons?” I ask.
“Yeah, they were ruled arsons, especially the one that injured Corey, but most of those investigations are still open. No one has been charged.”
I briefly look over to see his hands balled into tight fists. I’m reminded of Corey, and the anger I saw on his face the first night he came to group. I’ve seen him a few more times since then. I consider telling Don that I’d seen him but think better of it. Corey still refuses to see any of his teammates or even show his face anywhere near Rescue Four. If he wanted them to know he was going to group, or struggling, he’d let it be known.
“So there’s a fucking murderer walking around, using fire as their weapon of choice?” I growl, growing pissed off at the thought.
“Son of a bitch.” Don’s words are just as angry and pissed off as my own, if not more so.
We arrive at station two in just under fifteen minutes. I park in the lot across the street facing the firehouse and hop out of the car.
“I must be dreaming,” a familiar voice sounds as soon as I pass through the doors.
Grinning, I hold up my hand for Larry. His hand immediately cups mine and he pulls me into a half hug, pounding my back with his fist.
“How the hell are you doing?”
“Couldn’t be better.”
“Rescue must be treating you good.”
I shrug. “I don’t have any complaints. This is Don,” I introduce to Larry.
They both shake hands.
“Don wanted to ask some questions about the fire over on Jefferson. The …” I pause, clearing my throat before continuing. “The one involving the woman and her two young kids.”
Larry blinks as he gives me a look. He nods, solemnly, and I’m glad he takes my cue and doesn’t let on about my attending group over that very call. “The one with the mother and two kids. Of course.”
I nod because my words are caught in my throat.
Larry turns his attention to Don. “What is it you want to know?”
Don goes on to explain what it is he’s looking for. He doesn’t tell Larry that he suspects the fire was arson or that there actually might be a serial arsonist running around in our city.
Once Don finishes speaking with Larry, I introduce him to Arnold, who was also there that night, and happens to be on shift. Arnold is cooperative as well, actually passing along information that I didn’t know about.
“I always felt strange about that night,” he says. “I suspected the fire was intentional for some reason. I didn’t think it was electrical when we first got there. But after we all stomped around there and our hoses got a hold of it, I couldn’t tell which part of the building was which, ya know? Then it was deemed unsafe to enter so no real investigation could be done. A few months later the entire building was torn down,” Arnold finishes.
“Torn down before a thorough investigation could be done?” Don questions.
Arnold and I both nod in unison, as I remember that the building had indeed been deemed an eyesore in the neighborhood it sat in so it was torn down.
“They’re already constructing a new home in its place,” Arnold informs.
“Thanks for your time,” Don says.
“Hey, Arnold, is Captain Rogers still in?”
