"Tools, mostly. Some camping gear. The guy's got a lot of stuff." Martin's smile widened slightly. "Last I checked, helping a friend move wasn't a crime."
"Who's the friend?"
"Look, Detective”—Martin leaned forward and made a show of reading her nameplate—"Soto, I don't want to get anyone else dragged into whatever this is about. My friend asked for help, I helped, end of story."
Lena felt her jaw tighten. Martin was playing this perfectly—helpful enough to seem cooperative, vague enough to avoid giving them anything useful. And that smirk suggested he knew exactly what game they were playing.
"Mr. Cross, are you familiar with the recent fires in Phoenix Ridge?"
"Sure. Hard to miss all those sirens." He leaned forward slightly, his expression shifting to concern so genuine it would have fooled anyone who wasn't looking for the performance. "Terrible thing, burning down community spaces like that. I hope you catch whoever's doing it."
"Where were you on the nights of October 3rd, 8th, and 15th?"
“May I?” Martin pointed down at his pocket before pulling out his phone and scrolling through what appeared to be a calendar app. "October 3rd...that was a Tuesday? I was at home watching Netflix. The 8th, same thing. The 15th..." He paused, tapping the screen. "Actually, I think I was at Molly's Tavern that night. Trivia night. You can check with them."
The alibis were too convenient, too readily available. Most people couldn't recall their whereabouts from weeks ago without thinking harder. But Martin had answers prepared, which told Lena he'd been expecting this conversation.
"You worked for the city building safety department for four years," Lena said, changing the conversational direction to throw him off.
"That's right. It was a good job, too, until the budget cuts." For the first time, something genuine flickered across Martin's face—resentment, quickly suppressed. "Politics, you know how it is. New administration, new priorities." He shrugged.
"During your time there, you had access to building inspection reports, right?"
"It was part of the job." His wariness was almost imperceptible, but Lena caught it. "Someone has to file the paperwork."
"All the buildings that have been targeted had documented safety violations. Violations that were exploited during the fires."
Martin's eyebrows rose a little too high to be believable. "Really? That's...that's terrible. You don’t think someone's using city records to hurt people?"
The performance was almost flawless, but Lena had been doing this long enough to recognize good acting when she saw it. Cross knew exactly why those inspection reports mattered. The question was how much he'd admit to knowing.
"When you stopped collecting unemployment benefits last month, how were you supporting yourself?"
"Odd jobs here and there. Construction work, moving jobs like the one you saw at the cabin. Cash under the table, you know how it is." Cross spread his hands. "Not everyone can afford to report every little side gig to the government."
"That's a lot of coincidences, Mr. Cross. You stop collecting benefits right when the fires started. You’ve had access to sensitive data about buildings. You're making mysterious late-night trips to isolated locations."
"Detective, I think you're seeing patterns that aren't there." Cross's smile never wavered. "I'm just a guy trying to get by after losing his job. If helping friends move furniture makes me suspicious, then I guess you've got a real crime wave on your hands."
Lena wanted to wipe that smug expression off his face. Every instinct told her Cross was involved up to his neck, but she also knew they didn't have enough to hold him. Circumstantial evidence and suspicious timing weren't enough to charge someone with arson or as an accessory.
"We'll need the contact information for thisfriendwhose furniture you were moving."
"I'll have to ask him first. He's a private guy who might not appreciate the police attention." He pulled out a business card and slid it across the table. "Here's my number. Call me tomorrow, I'll see what I can do."
The gesture was perfectly reasonable and completely infuriating. Martin was cooperating just enough to seem helpful while giving them absolutely nothing they could use.
"Mr. Cross, these fires aren't going to stop. People could get hurt. If you know something—anything—that could help us prevent that..."
For just a moment, his mask slipped. Lena saw calculation in his eyes, weighing risks and benefits. Then the helpful expression returned.
"I wish I could help, Detective. But I don't know anything about these fires. I hope you catch whoever's doing it before someone gets hurt. So, am I free to go now?"
Lena gathered the photos, knowing she was beaten. They could hold Cross for a few more hours, maybe overnight if they pushed it, but without harder evidence, they'd have to let him walk. And he knew it.
"We'll be in touch, Mr. Cross."
"I'm sure you will." Martin stood, straightening his jacket with the air of a man who'd just won a game. "I'll be around if you need anything else. Not like I'm going anywhere."
