"Or it could be something that links our arsonist to a specific industry or workplace. We're checking to narrow down the manufacturers," Chief Reeves interjected.
"What's the pattern? The first three targets were storage facilities, personal, boat, and commercial. The community center is completely different. It's a historical building under renovation."
Marshal Winters nodded, pointing at each location. "That's what concerns us. The arsonist is escalating, moving fromrelatively isolated areas to higher-profile buildings in the center of town."
"Not to mention, one with political visibility. The community center is Mayor Thompson's pet project. It's on the front page of the Goodwin Grove Gazette every other week," Chief Reeves added.
The implication hung in the air. Was the arsonist targeting the building because of its connection to the mayor? Or was Gisselle the target, the architect bringing new life to the historical structure?
"What about security footage? The community center has cameras, doesn't it?" I asked.
One of the detectives shook his head. "The community center had them, but they were knocked out, we believe, the night before the accelerant was placed. It looks like a professional job. Cut wires, not disabled."
"They know their way around security systems," I noted. "Not an opportunistic firebug, but someone with skills and an agenda."
"One more thing. The lab found a partial fingerprint on material from the boat warehouse fire. It doesn't match anyone in the system, but it's the first real physical evidence," Marshal Winters revealed, pulling a sheet of paper out of a folder.
"A fingerprint, any distinctive features?" I asked.
"Yeah, an unusual scar pattern across the whorl. If we can find a match, it'll be conclusive. We're cross-referencing employment records with those of local construction companies. It's a needle in a haystack, but it's something," Chief Reeves added.
The meeting broke up shortly after, and I gathered my notes.
"Crawford, you did a good job identifying the pattern early, connecting the cases when they could've been seen as isolated incidents."
"Just doing my job, sir."
Reeves clapped me on the shoulder. "Good man. Keep me updated on anything your crew observes on those extra patrols."
"Most definitely."
I got back to my truck, eager to return to Gisselle and my home, which was no longer empty. For the first time in years, duty to the job wasn't the only thing driving me forward.
I took the short drive home. Traffic was extremely light today, which was fine by me. I pulled up in my driveway, and inside, I found Gisselle where I expected: in the spare room I offered her as a workspace. I leaned against the door frame, admiring the slight furrow of her brow as she worked. A smile curved her mouth as she seemed to sense my presence.
"You've made yourself at home," I noted.
Gisselle looked up. "Yes, there's great lighting in this room. It's perfect. How did the meeting go?"
"The fire marshal confirmed four cases, along with some other new evidence."
"Oh, they have actual evidence now? That's good, right?"
"Yeah, but something is telling me that because the community center is the mayor's initiative, someone is targeting the mayor's projects or you specifically."
"I'm not stopping my work because someone wants to play with matches. This project and community matters to me."
"I know. I'm not asking you to stop, but?—"
Gisselle cut me off. "I don't need a babysitter either."
"I was going to suggest construction site security cameras, in addition to the community center cameras and check-ins. Work during daylight and when others are present."
Gisselle blew out air. "I can work with that. Now, want to see what I'm working on?"
I pushed off the door frame and moved toward her. I listened as she explained her design.
"You're not listening," she observed.
