Fire Chief Rodriguez met them at the perimeter his crew was establishing. "Attempted arson, no question. Multiple ignition points, accelerant poured around—but whoever did this botched it. Too much in some spots, not enough in others. The concrete floor and cold weather kept it from fully catching."
"How long?" Cory asked.
"Based on the burn patterns? Started maybe four, five hours ago. Been smoldering ever since." Rodriguez lowered his voice. "Haven't called it in officially yet. Thought you might want a look first, seeing as its local jurisdiction until the feds take over."
Cory felt a surge of gratitude for small-town loyalty. "How long can you give me?"
"My guys need to vent the building, make sure there's no hot spots that could flare up. Say... thirty minutes before I have to make this official?"
"Copy that."
The firefighters had already broken through the main door, smoke billowing out in thick clouds. With borrowed breathing apparatus, Cory and Izzy followed Rodriguez inside.
The damage was bad but not catastrophic. Char marks streaked the walls where fire had tried to climb but failed. Puddles of accelerant had burned themselves out on the concrete floor. Filing cabinets stood blackened but intact, their contents smoke-damaged but not destroyed.
"Over here," Izzy called out, her voice muffled by the mask. She'd found a section where papers had been deliberately piled and doused. "Someone wanted these specific records gone."
Through the smoke damage, Cory could make out maintenance logs, inspection reports—all with Tom Morrison's initials.
"Chief." One of the firefighters held up a partially melted gas can. "Found this kicked under a workbench. Might have prints."
Izzy emerged from behind a scorched filing cabinet, clutching a metal box. "Backup logs. Martha always kept duplicates in this fireproof box." Her eyes shone with relief above the breathing mask. "They're smoke-damaged but readable. Tom's signatures on everything."
Cory's phone buzzed. Graceline again.
He stepped outside to answer, pulling off the mask. "Yeah?"
"Chief, I've been monitoring security footage from around town like you asked. Hardware store camera caught something interesting yesterday afternoon. 4:42 PM."
"Tell me."
"Someone in Tom Morrison's jacket—you know that distinctive blue one with the aerospace conference patch—buying accelerants. Gas cans, lighter fluid, the works."
Cory's pulse quickened. "Clear shot of the face?"
"That's the thing. They kept their face turned away the whole time. Hood up, head down. Like they knew where the cameras were."
"Height? Build?"
"Hard to say with the bulky jacket, but... could be Tom. Could also be someone else wearing his jacket. The credit card used was definitely Tom's, but the clerk said the person never spoke, just pointed at what they wanted."
"Like they were afraid their voice would give them away."
"Exactly what I thought. Want me to save this footage before anyone else asks for it?"
"Do it. And Graceline? Don't log any of this officially yet."
"Understood, Chief. But you know I can't sit on it long."
"I know. Just... give me a head start."
Rodriguez approached as Cory hung up. "We're venting the building now. No active fire, just hot spots and smoke. Your arsonist was an amateur—used way too much accelerant in some places, not nearly enough in others. If they'd done it right, this place would be ash."
"Or maybe they didn't really care if it burned," Izzy said, joining them with the metal box clutched against her chest. "Maybe they just wanted it to look like Tom tried to destroy evidence."
Cory studied the scene with fresh eyes. The sloppy execution, the convenient evidence trail, Tom's jacket on camera but face hidden...
"I need to go see Tom Morrison," he said. "Now, while the feds are still processing what they took from us."
