"The thermal evidence should be enough for probable cause once we identify the vehicle owner," Erin said, reviewing her notes as Lena navigated the curves.
"Run the plate, get a name and address, then coordinate with the tactical team for apprehension." Lena's hands were relaxed on the steering wheel, but Erin perceived an edge in her tone. "That's how we handle potentially dangerous situations like this."
"Right. Though I'll want to be present when they process the scene. Chemical identification and storage assessment will be crucial for building a case for the charges."
"That makes sense for the scene processing," Lena said carefully as she nodded. "But the actual apprehension should probably be left to the tac team. It’s safer that way, given what we know about the situation."
There it was. Subtle, professionally justified, but unmistakably protective. Erin felt a familiar frustration rise, but she pushed it down. They'd had their conversation last night about trust and partnership, but clearly Lena's protective instincts weren't going to disappear overnight and she had to be patient.
"We'll see what the situation calls for," Erin said diplomatically. "Once we know who we're dealing with."
They drove in comfortable conversation about the case and what they'd discovered. But as they approached the familiar skyline of Phoenix Ridge, the weight of returning to their professional world began to settle between them.
"So," Lena said finally, her voice careful. "When we get back to the station..."
Erin looked over at her, noting the tension that had crept into Lena's shoulders. "We focus on the case. Run the plates, build the evidence, catch this guy."
"Right. The case." Lena's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, her knuckles whitening. "But about us..."
"What about us?" Erin kept her voice gentle, sensing Lena's struggle.
"I meant what I said last night. About wanting to be partners, about choosing this." Lena glanced at her, then back at the road. "But I don't know how to do this at work yet. How to be professional when all I want to do is..."
"Touch me? Make sure I'm safe? Keep me close?" Erin supplied, a small smile playing at her lips.
"All of that." Lena's voice was quiet. "I've never had to navigate this before. Work and...this."
Erin reached over and briefly covered Lena's hand with hers. "We don't have to figure it all out today. But what happened between us last night wasn't casual, and I don't want to pretend it was."
"It wasn't casual," Lena agreed, turning her hand to squeeze Erin's fingers before reluctantly letting go as they approached downtown. "But maybe we keep it between us for now? Until we know how to handle it?"
"I can live with that."
Lena pulled into the police station parking lot and turned off the car, the engine still ticking as it cooled. For a moment, they sat in the sudden quiet, the weight of their new reality settling around them.
"Ready to go back to pretending we're just colleagues?" Lena asked, but there was warmth in her voice rather than resignation.
"For now." Erin gathered her equipment bag, then paused. "But Lena? What we decided last night doesn't change just because we walk through those doors."
Lena's eyes met hers, and Erin saw something settle there—a quiet certainty that hadn't been there before. "No. It doesn't."
They got out of the car and headed toward the station entrance, falling into step beside each other—professional, competent, and underneath it all, something new and unshakeable that would carry them through whatever came next.
9
It had already been two hours since she and Erin had returned from the cabin, walking through the police station doors with the careful distance of colleagues who shared a secret. Erin had spent an hour in the lab enhancing their surveillance photos before heading back to the fire station with evidence samples, leaving Lena alone with what might be their first real breakthrough in the case.
The surveillance photos were spread across the conference room table like a puzzle finally revealing its pattern. Lena picked up the enhanced image showing Martin Cross loading metal containers into his pickup truck, the timestamp reading 11:47 p.m.—well after any legitimate building inspection would occur.
"The license plate came back registered to a Martin Cross," Lena said, sliding the enhanced photo toward Captain Julia Scott and Chief Diana Marten. "He was a former building safety inspector, employed with the city for four years until he was laid off two years ago."
Julia leaned forward, studying the image. Even grainy, it clearly showed a middle-aged man methodically loadingcontainers—too many and too large for personal use. "That’s the same time Marcus Webb was working there."
"Exactly." Lena pulled up Cross's personnel file on her laptop, angling the screen so they could see his employment history. "They worked in the same department. Cross was let go during the city restructuring after some budget cuts."
Diana examined the timestamp on the photos. "So he's been unemployed for two years, then suddenly he's making late-night trips to an isolated cabin?"
"It could be financial desperation," Julia suggested. "Or resentment that finally boiled over into action."
