I circled the room once more, puzzle pieces clicking into place with every step. "The electrical failure is staged. See how the char marks radiate from two distinct points? Real electrical fires have a single point of origin. This was set to look like an accident, but it's the same signature as the other scenes," I stated, pointing to the inconsistencies in the burn pattern.
"Yep, trying to throw us off," Winters agreed.
"Or trying to create plausible deniability. Who owns the building again?" The thought had formed since I first saw the scene, but I was reluctant to voice it without more evidence.
Winters looked up, his expression grim. "Councilman Whitaker. Personal investment, not city property."
The final piece finally clicked into place. I needed air.
I stepped outside, breathing in deeply despite the lingering smoke. The fresh air felt good against my face after the stifling heat of the burned-out room. I scanned the crowd, noting the mix of concerned citizens, thrill-seekers, and small-town gossipers who would ensure this info was the talk of every diner and shop tomorrow.
I then spotted Councilman Whittaker stepping out of a shiny black SUV at the edge of the police barricade. His suit was immaculate, but it was his eyes that gave him away, cold and calculating as they assessed the scene. He approached the nearest officer, gesturing empathetically as a distressed property owner. His gaze drifted to the news cameras, ensuring theycaptured his arrival, his concern, and his importance to the scene.
"Lieutenant Crawford, this is terrible. Do we know what happened?" Whitaker asked, spotting me by the entrance.
I approached him, keeping my face professionally neutral despite the suspicion burning in my gut. "The investigation is ongoing, sir. The fire marshal is documenting the scene now."
"Electrical failure?" He asked a question that was too specific.
"We can't confirm the cause at this time, but we are exploring all possibilities."
An annoyance flashed in his eyes before his mask slid back into place.
"I'm grateful your department responded so quickly. It could've been much worse." He projected his voice enough to be picked up by the nearest reporter, who edged closer to our conversation.
"Yes, sir. We need a statement from you about the recent work done on the electrical systems for the investigation."
The stiffening of his shoulders was almost imperceptible. "Of course. Whatever you need. I'll have the contractor information and permits at my office." As he turned to give a statement to the now approaching reporter, I stepped away.
I headed back to my station and called my team into the briefing room, where they sat in silence, waiting for me to speak.
"What I'm about to share stays in this room. Fire Marshal Winters is processing the scene, and the official investigation is ongoing. The same accelerant signature found at the other locations was found tonight, but tonight's fire at the rec hall had a new element: a staged electrical failure designed to look like an accident."
Jaxon leaned forward, brows raised. "Why change the MO now? They've been pretty consistent."
"Because this time, the target was different. The rec hall is privately owned by Councilman Harold Whitaker, a personal investment property he's tried to renovate for years."
Dane let out a whistle. "Insurance fraud?"
I shrugged. "Possibly. The building's been empty for over three years. Construction costs have probably doubled since the original estimates. A convenient electrical fire could be a sizable insurance payout and an opportunity to start with updated permits."
"I say the staged electrical failure gives him a possible deniability," Jaxon added, catching on quickly.
"Exactly."
"You think the councilman is behind this?" Evans asked.
I looked at him, appreciating the directness of his question as a rookie.
"Great question. We have evidence connecting multiple fire scenes with the same signatures. A property owner who stands to benefit financially from his building burning down, and the same councilman who's been vocally opposed to the community center project from day one."
I didn't spell it out further. I didn't need to. The implication was heavy in the air.
"I've scheduled a full department meeting for tomorrow at 0800. Until then, I need each of you to document everything you've observed at these fire scenes, every detail, no matter how small you think it is. If you remember something from the storage fire that didn't make it into your report, write it down now."
I looked at each of them, making sure the message landed. "This is more than a fire bug. This is about protecting our town and protecting the people. We're done for tonight. Get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day," I advised before leaving the station.
The drive home was a blur of streetlights and my scattered thoughts. My mind circled back to Whitaker's face at the fire, and to how he searched for the cameras rather than the damage.
