“Marshal.” Lena’s voice carried that same professional tone from the briefing, but underneath it was something softer. “Good presentation in there.”
Erin turned, surprised by the genuine note in her tone. Lena stood a few feet away, keys in hand. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure if the room would’ve listened to the technical parts of my analysis.”
“They should’ve. It changes everything about how we approach this case.” Lena shifted weight, and Erin caught a glimpse of something almost vulnerable in her expression. “Iowe you an apology. At Lavender’s, I was…dismissive. Your methods are more than just preventative.”
"We both want the same thing," Erin said. "To stop this person before they hurt anyone else."
"Different approaches, same goal," Lena agreed.
They stood there for a moment, the professional tension between them having shifted into something less combative.
"I should go," Lena said finally. "But I'll send you that suspect list by tomorrow morning."
"And I'll get you the target assessment.”
She watched Lena drive away and disappear around the corner toward downtown Phoenix Ridge. The parking lot felt suddenly quiet, just the distant sound of waves against the cliffs and the hum of the fire station behind her.
Erin climbed into her truck and pulled out of the parking lot. Tomorrow they'd coordinate on target assessments and suspect lists. For the first time since the fires started, she felt like they might actually be able to prevent the next one.
3
The case files were spread across Lena’s coffee table, each photograph and report a piece of a puzzle she’d been trying to solve all weekend. Crime scene photos from the warehouse, the Heights community center, the beachside center—three fires in three weeks, each one escalating in complexity. She’d arranged them chronologically, looking for patterns in the accelerant placement, timing, and target selection.
The arsonist was getting better at this. And that terrified her.
Lena lifted her coffee mug, noting absently she’d barely touched it. The case had consumed her weekend the way it consumed everything else: sleep, appetite, and any pretense of work-life balance. She’d canceled plans with Julia, ignored her mother’s call, and spent Saturday and Sunday mapping vulnerabilities across Phoenix Ridge like she could somehow protect every potential target through sheer force of will.
Her phone rang, cutting through the evening quiet with its harsh urgency. The caller ID showed dispatch, and Lena’s pulse spiked before she’d even answered.
“Soto.”
“Detective, we have a structure fire at Phoenix Ridge Public Library, main branch downtown. Fire department’s on scene, but we’re getting reports of people trapped inside.”
The ceramic mug hit the coffee table harder than intended, coffee sloshing onto the table’s surface, but she paid it no mind.
“I’m en route,” Lena said, already moving. She grabbed her badge and gun from the kitchen counter and her keys from the hook by the door. The case files could wait; this couldn’t.
The drive through Phoenix Ridge at dusk should’ve been routine. Instead, Lena found herself gripping the steering wheel tighter with each passing block as smoke became visible in the distance, a dark plume rising against the orange sky.
Her radio crackled with overlapping voices: fire crews requesting additional units, ambulances standing nearby, and patrol officers establishing perimeters. It was the typical organized chaos of an emergency response, but underneath it all was the sharp edge of urgency that meant that people were in real danger.
“Library’s fully involved,” came Captain Hallie Hunter’s voice through the static. “Evacuation’s in progress, but we’ve got civilians unaccounted for.”
Lena pressed harder on the accelerator. The library served the entire community, including after-school programs and evening study groups. If the arsonist had struck while people were inside, they'd crossed a line from property destruction to impacting potential casualties.
She forced herself to focus on the library staff who’d stayed late and the teenagers who’d been studying, reading, and finding community in a place that was supposed to be safe.
The first fire trucks came into view three blocks from the library, their red lights coloring the street in emergency colors. Phoenix Ridge’s downtown had transformed into a disaster zone: police cruisers blocking intersections, crowds lining upbehind yellow tape, the controlled chaos of first responders coordinating their efforts.
And there, rising above it all, was the library. The beautiful brick building with its arched windows and classical columns was being consumed from within, flames visible through the upper floors where the teen reading room used to be.
Lena parked behind the command vehicle and sat for a moment, watching flames lick the windows and smoke pour from the building that had sheltered so many in the Phoenix Ridge community. She grabbed her badge and stepped into the chaos, ready to catch whoever was doing this before they killed someone.
The scene was chaos orchestrated with tight precision. Fire trucks surrounded the library like steel guardians, and water arced through the air in silver streams as firefighters moved efficiently despite the obvious devastation.
Heat hit Lena even from the perimeter, waves of warmth that made the evening air shimmer. The odor of burning books mixed with smoke and wet ash, the scent of history being destroyed page by page. Radio chatter cut through the sound of water hitting flames, orders being shouted, and the controlled urgency of people fighting to salvage what they could.
She spotted Captain Julia Scott coordinating with Fire Chief McKenna Adams near the incident command vehicle, both women’s faces grim in the flashing lights. Julia caught sight of her and waved her over.
