That comment made my stomach lurch. I’d known as much. I’d even said it before. Yet, it still pained me to believe anyone associated with the fire department could do something like this.
“He might even be a firefighter,” he finished.
I lifted my head toward the ceiling before responding. “If this son of a bitch is any way connected to the fire department, he better wish I never get my hands on him.”
The thought alone made me see red. As firefighters, it was our duty to help and protect people when they were at their most vulnerable. To think this bastard used his knowledge of how fire worked to harm and kill was some shit I refused to let go unpunished.
“To build a more solid profile, figure out his motivation,” my father added as he walked me to my truck.”
“Motive,” I repeated.
“Try to figure out the why, and it can help lead to the who.”
I nodded.
“Be careful, Don.”
“I will.”
“Come over to the house again, soon,” he said. “You know how much Ronnie loves cooking.”
Ronnie was his wife of the last ten years.
“Soon. Thanks, Dad. I have a shift in about twenty minutes.”
As I drove into work, my phone rang.
“What’s up, Carter? I’m on my way to the station now.”
“Angela’s bar’s on fire,” Carter said. Stress and anger filled his voice.
I pressed harder on the gas pedal. “What the hell?”
“We need you here now, Don. Eric and Emanuel are already headed over with the Captain. The women are inside.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
I pressed even harder. Angela was Eric’s wife, and Emanuel was dating her best friend, Janine. That horrific night, six months ago, flashed through my mind, and I found myself flying through a light that turned red just as I passed through it.
My heart raced as I sped to get to the scene. All I could think of was getting to the firehouse, getting in my gear, and hightailing my ass over to Angela’s bar,Charlie’s.
“Fuck!” I pounded my fist against the steering wheel. I knew that bastard was behind this. I just knew it. He’d been too quiet lately.
Jocelyn
“Hallease, did you ever finish that background research for the Trevor case?” I asked as I entered the central area of my office where Hallease sat.
She peered up from her desk. “I’m doing it right now. I got sidetracked with the McMullin file.”
“No problem. Get it to me when you can. I’m meeting with her next week, and I want to be prepared.”
Hallease turned on the television mounted on the wall in the lobby area.
“Anything good happening in the world?” I asked, staring at the news. The TV was muted, but the captions made it easy to follow.
“Politics, business, and sports,” she answered.
“The usual, huh?”
