1
The crime scene photos stared back at her like accusations.
Lena Soto had spread them across her desk hours ago, when the afternoon light was still sharp and unforgiving. Now, it slanted through the venetian blinds in golden bars, cutting across the images of charred walls and twisted metal, the skeletal remains of what had been a community center. The playground equipment had melted into abstract shapes—bright primary colors now blackened and warped, swings and slides meant for kids who just needed a safe place to play.
Now all that remained of it were ashes and memories.
Lena’s coffee had long since gone cold. The bitter smell mixed with salt air drifting through the open window, Phoenix Ridge’s constant reminder that the ocean was never far. She barely noticed either. Her eyes scavenged the photos like a hawk tracking movement in tall grass, searching for the connection she knew had to be there.
Two fires in three weeks. The warehouse fire near the docks first, initially dismissed by investigators as accidental, but Lena had noticed the burn patterns—too deliberate to be accidental—and then the fire at the community center in the Heights district,where the evidence was impossible to ignore. Same accelerant placement, same late-night timing when the buildings sat empty.
Someone was sending a message. Lena just needed to read it correctly.
She shifted through the photos again, the rough paper catching between her fingers. Building layouts, burn patterns, the forensics team’s notes about entry points and ignition sources…somewhere in this wreckage was the thread that would lead her to?—
“You’re going to burn a hole through those photos if you stare any harder.”
Lena didn’t look up. She knew Captain Julia Scott’s voice well enough to hear the concern underneath the dry observation. “There’s something here I’m missing.”
“Or maybe you’re looking too hard.” Julia moved into Lena’s peripheral vision, leaning against the mahogany desk with that casual authority she’d perfected over years of command. “The fire marshal will be at Lavender’s this afternoon. Routine inspection.”
Lena’s hands stilled. “And?”
“And Chief asked me to keep an eye on Lavender’s security.” Julia let that sit for a moment. “Two fires already… Might want to show up and see if anything catches your eye.”
“Fire safety inspections are just preventative theater.” Lena finally looked up, meeting Julia’s dark brown eyes that were flecked with amber in this low light. “I need to find this person, not check exit signs.”
“Sometimes prevention catches what investigation misses.” Julia’s expression held the same patience she’d shown Lena a hundred times over the years they’d worked together. Captain and detective, friend and colleague, they had the kind ofbond that meant Julia could push without Lena pushing back. “Besides, the fire marshal might have a perspective you don’t.”
Lena’s jaw tightened. She didn’t need a new perspective. What she needed was evidence, hard facts, and something concrete to follow. But Julia wasn’t wrong about Lavender’s being a potential target.
Around them, the precinct hummed with late afternoon energy. Other detectives’ conversations faded into the background as Lena processed Julia’s suggestion, her strategic mind already working different angles. The fire marshal would be inspecting the building and looking at vulnerabilities. If Lena were there, she could see what someone planning to burn it down might see.
Not that she’d ever admit Julia was right about the value of prevention.
“Fine.” Lena gathered the photos into a neat stack, slipping them back into the case file. “I’ll check it out, but I’m not wasting my time on code violations when there’s an arsonist out there.”
Julia’s smile upturned into a slight curve. “Of course not.”
Lena grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair, ignoring the gentle sarcasm. The case file went into the canvas bag she’d been carrying around everywhere lately. The weight of it helped her think, or maybe she just needed the reminder of what was at stake.
She paused at the door, glancing back at the cold coffee and scattered notes on her desk. Everything else was in her bag now—the photos, the file, the weight of the investigation following her wherever she went. She flipped the lightswitch before closing the door.
“Lena.” Julia’s voice stopped her mid-step. “The fire marshal’s name is Erin Vance. Try not to bite her head off.”
“I’m always professional.”
Julia’s laugh followed her out into the main hallway.
The drive to Lavender’s took fifteen minutes through downtown Phoenix Ridge, the late afternoon traffic sluggish but steady. Lena had the windows rolled down despite the cooling air, letting the salt breeze cut through her thoughts like something sharp and clarifying. The case gnawed at her: two fires, escalating damage, and sophisticated methods. Someone who knew when these buildings would be empty.
Someone she was determined to catch.
She pulled into the parking area beside Lavender’s just as the sun started its descent toward the ocean. The Victorian building’s purple door was visible even from here, a splash of defiant color against weathered brick and sea-worn wood. Through the side windows, she could see warm light from vintage lamps, the movement of people inside settling in for a night of coffee and conversation.
A fire truck sat parked out front, official and imposing.
Lena cut the engine and sat for a moment, her hands still on the wheel. This was just reconnaissance to check the building’s vulnerabilities, see if it fits the pattern she’d been tracking, and maybe exchange a few words with the fire marshal if absolutely necessary.
