Chapter33
Korbin
“Come in here, Butler,” Hansen said, nodding his head towards the office. “You’re going to want to see this.”
Feeling wary suddenly as I pocketed my phone, I stood from the recliner I’d been snoozing on and off in and crossed the room, joining Hansen in the chief’s office. Preston Davis was sitting behind his large oak desk, eyes on his computer screen, and Hansen took a seat in an empty chair across from him. I did the same. It was three in the morning, but we were still wide awake.
“What’s going on?” I asked, looking between them. “You both look like someone kicked your dog.”
I looked at Hansen and then back at the chief. Hansen smiled, but just barely. Chief Davis didn’t crack a grin. “It’s about the girl,” he said, crossing his arms over his stomach.
“What girl? Peyton?”
“No,” Hansen said. “Amanda.”
“Amanda.” I frowned, wondering what in the hell Amanda had to do with anything at all. “What about her?”
Hansen sighed and ran a hand through his hair, seemingly distraught. “Paisley did some snooping,” he said. “After Amanda kept popping up, she looked into the woman. There’s more to her past than we originally assumed.”
“So? Like what?”
Hansen opened his mouth to respond, but Chief Davis spoke first. “Three years ago, she was living with her husband in Denver,” he said. “Her husband, Peter Goad, was a firefighter for SFD. A pretty great guy, apparently, and a good fireman.”
“What? Really?” I sat back in my chair, head spinning. Why hadn’t Amanda mentioned any of this to any of us before?
“That’s not all,” said Chief Davis. “Apparently, this station ran a call with Peter’s station one night. A commercial fire, just between here and the city.”
“Wait a second,” I said softly. “I remember that. I was there.”
“So was I,” said Hansen.
“Three men died that night,” Chief Davis continued. “Including Peter Goad.”
“Peter.” Suddenly, I vaguely remembered the name. I vaguely remembered theman. “Oh my God,” I said, shaking my head. “I went in with Peter Goad, but he didn’t make it out. The structure collapsed and killed them.”
“You were the last one out,” said Chief Davis. “Yeah. I remember it too.”
“Jesus.” I sat back in the chair to gather my thoughts, my palms feeling hot and damp suddenly. “So what is this?” I asked. “Some petty revenge? Anger?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Is she—does she—fuck, Chief. I don’t know what to ask or say.”
“Neither do we,” Chief Davis admitted, meeting Hansen’s eyes and then mine. “All we know is that it seems to be such a happy coincidence that she’s been hanging around so much, especially with these fires happening.”
“Do you think she’s the one starting them?” I asked. “Do you believe Amanda is the arsonist?”
“We don’t know,” said Hansen with a slight shrug. “We can’t tell if she’s hanging around for the company or if she’s hanging around for some other reason.”
“But why now?” I asked. “Why now is she suddenly seeking revenge, if that’s even what this is? Why not then, when she lost her husband?”
Chief Davis shook his head and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It takes many years to become a halfway decent arsonist,” he said. “For all we know, she’s been stewing in his death this entire time, just waiting for the right moment to strike.”
“Then again, we don’t even know if it’s her,” added Hansen. “She might not be relevant at all. That’s where things get sketchy. We have no proof.”
“Do you recall where she was the first time you met her?” Chief Davis asked, and I raised my fingers to my temples to massage away the aching pain in my head.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. She was on the scene. At the commercial fire.”
