Erin finished her cold tea, rinsed the cup, and went to bed early. Tomorrow was Monday, and she had fire scenes to investigate, evidence to analyze, and a professional reputation to maintain.
11
Erin's coffee mug sat in the sink, green ceramic with a chip on the handle that she always turned toward the back. It’s been three days, and Lena still couldn't bring herself to wash it.
October light cut through her kitchen windows with morning sharpness, illuminating everything Erin had left behind: her jacket draped over the back of a chair, still holding the faint scent of smoke and vanilla perfume; her toothbrush standing next to Lena's in the bathroom holder; a half-finished crossword puzzle on the counter written in Erin's precise handwriting.
Lena turned away from the mug and poured coffee into a different one. The liquid tasted burnt.
Her phone sat silent on the counter, its black screen reflecting the morning light. No messages since yesterday's brief exchange about evidence processing schedules. It was professional and distant, the kind of communication that made it clear they were colleagues now, nothing more.
She'd stopped texting Tuesday night after two days of careful messages that went unanswered. “Case update when you have time.Pattern analysis ready for review.How are you?”
The silence hurt worse than fighting.
Lena grabbed her badge and keys, checking her reflection in the hallway mirror out of habit. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her usually sharp appearance had softened around the edges. Julia would notice. She noticed everything.
The drive to the station passed through downtown Phoenix Ridge as the city woke up around her. Coffee shops opened their doors and early commuters walked purposefully down sidewalks, the familiar rhythm of a Wednesday morning that now felt hollow.
Radio chatter filled the car with other people's emergencies, other cases that didn't require a consultation with the fire department. Working alone felt wrong. Incomplete. Like trying to write a report with her dominant hand tied behind her back.
The precinct buzzed with morning shift energy when she walked in. Detective Rivera looked up from her desk with a nod, already deep in her own caseload. Officer Kovac waved from across the room where she was reviewing incident reports. All the normal, daily interactions that felt like going through the motions of a life that no longer fit properly.
"Morning, Lena." Julia's voice carried that careful tone she'd been using since Monday. Not quite gentle, not quite professional. It was the voice of someone watching a friend make terrible decisions and trying to figure out how to support.
"Morning." Lena settled at her desk, spreading case files across the surface like a barrier against conversations she wasn't ready to have.
"Did you sleep any better last night?"
"Yeah, fine." The lie came easily. She'd managed maybe three hours and the rest were spent staring at the ceiling, replaying Friday's fight in exhaustive detail. Every word, every expression, the way Erin's voice had cracked when she said, “I can't be with someone who doesn't respect me.”
Julia's knowing look suggested she wasn't fooled, but she let it go. They'd had this conversation twice already this week. Lena deflected, and Julia probed with the persistence of someone who'd been her captain for six years and her friend for far longer.
Lena opened the Martin Cross file, forcing herself to focus on concrete facts. Cross had been questioned and released after the cabin stakeout, claiming he was just moving furniture for a friend. Clean story, no contradictions, nothing to hold him on. And then, the fire.
The case felt like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. The fire patterns, accelerant placement, and building vulnerabilities were all things that required both investigative work and fire science expertise to understand.
Her computer chimed with a new message with a priority flag from the night shift supervisor.
Neighborhood surveillance footage around the Rainbow Alliance fire has been reviewed. Martin Cross’s vehicle was spotted in the area approximately three hours before the incident. License plate has been confirmed. See the video attached.
Lena's pulse quickened. This wasn't circumstantial evidence anymore. Cross had been at the scene, close enough to the timeframe to matter.
She opened the video file, watching grainy security footage from a nearby business. She watched for a few minutes before seeing Cross's pickup truck driving slowly past the Rainbow Alliance Center, the driver's face partially visible through the windshield.
Evidence. She finally had real evidence that placed him at the scene rather than just having access to building reports. This she could work with.
Lena reached for her phone to call Erin, then stopped, muscle memory fighting with her pride and the memory of Erin's voice.
The smart thing was to call for backup. The necessary thing was calling Erin. If Cross had accelerants or chemicals stored somewhere nearby, her fire expertise would be crucial for a safe arrest. But that would mean admitting she needed help, admitting she'd been wrong about working alone.
She set the phone down and re-opened Cross's file instead to remember where his address was. According to the surveillance log, a patrol car had driven by yesterday evening. His truck was in the parking lot and the lights were on in his apartment.
There had already been one fire since she’d questioned him, which meant he already had an opportunity to contact whoever he was working with that the investigation was on his tail. If she was going to move on this, it had to be now.
Lena grabbed her jacket. "Heading out," she called to Julia.
"Where to?"
