"Cross and Morrison both worked in building safety," Lena said. "But neither of them have fire science backgrounds."
"No." Erin studied the timeline, looking for patterns they might have missed. "But their buyer does. Has to. The accelerant choices alone show sophistication—knowing which compounds would generate the most heat, how to mix them for specific burn rates, where to place them for maximum structural damage."
Lena reached for her laptop, opening it with purpose.
"What are you thinking?" Erin asked.
"Building department restructuring." Lena's fingers moved across the keyboard. "Morrison said the departmental changes started about two years ago when the new city administration took over."
Erin moved her chair closer, their shoulders nearly touching as they both focused on the personnel records Lena was pulling up. The proximity felt natural for her now.
"Multiple positions were eliminated," Lena said, scrolling through the list. "There were budget cuts and reorganization. Some people were forced into early retirement."
"Cross was one of them." Erin scanned the names, looking for anyone else who might fit their emerging profile.
"But Cross was just a building inspector. No fire safety certification, no specialized training." Lena kept scrolling. "We're looking for someone higher up. Someone who would have had access to everything—all the inspection reports, all the departmental protocols."
Erin's heartbeat quickened as understanding crystallized. "Not just access to Webb's reports specifically."
"They’d have to have access toeverybuilding safety report filed in Phoenix Ridge." Lena stopped scrolling, her hand hovering over the mouse. "Someone who oversaw the entire department."
They both saw it at the same time. A single name at the top of the organizational chart.
"Richard Ashford," Erin read off the screen. "Building Commissioner, 2015 to 2025."
Lena clicked on the file, pulling up Richard's employment history. "Forced resignation during the administrative transition. He had opposed the new progressive policies, particularly"—she paused, reading—"particularly increased funding for LGBTQ+ community programs and anti-discrimination initiatives."
Erin felt ice settle in her chest. "The fires all targeted LGBTQ+ spaces."
"Every single one." Lena was already cross-referencing dates. "And they started six months after Richard lost his position."
"A building commissioner would have comprehensive knowledge," Erin said, her thoughts accelerating as she traced the pattern. "Not just building safety, but fire codes, emergency protocols, and structural vulnerabilities."
"He'd know exactly how inspection reports could be weaponized." Lena pulled up more files. "And he'd have kept copies. Two decades of documentation about every building weakness in the city."
"But he lost his access to current information when he was forced out." Erin watched the chain form in front of them. "So he needed someone on the inside."
"Morrison, unwittingly." Lena's voice was tight. "Through Cross, who he probably recruited because Cross had both the connections and the resentment."
Erin reached for Cross's transcript again, rereading the technical specifications with new context. "These instructions aren't someone using stolen expertise. This is someone who knows fire science professionally. Someone who spent years implementing safety codes and learned exactly how to circumvent them."
"Ashford worked his way up through the fire marshal's office before becoming the building commissioner." Lena showed her his career history. "He started as a fire inspector in the nineties, moved into building safety administration, and eventually ran the entire department."
"He has the knowledge, the access—or he did—and the motive." Erin felt satisfaction surge alongside anger at what those facts revealed. "He's been systematically targeting the queer community he blamed for losing his position."
Lena sat back, her expression grim. "And Cross won't give him up because Ashford's still paying him. Why sacrifice your cash cow when you can throw an expendable friend under the bus instead?"
"Morrison had no idea." Erin thought of the man's statement, the genuine horror in his words. "He thought he was just talking to an old colleague."
"Classic information chain." Lena closed the laptop, her jaw set. "Ashford has the motive and expertise. Cross has the connections. Morrison has the access. Each layer protected by plausible deniability."
Erin looked at the case files spread across Lena's kitchen table—weeks of investigation, six fires, two deaths, a community terrorized. And finally, after everything, they had a name.
"We need to take this to Julia and McKenna," Erin said.
"We do." Lena's hand found hers on the table, fingers intertwining briefly. "Together."
The word carried weight beyond logistics. Erin squeezed Lena's hand before letting go, already reaching for the files they'd need.
