"Any theories on why he didn't get further?"
"Could be incompetence. Could be the case is just that cold." She studied me. "Or could be something else entirely. Which is why you're here, I'm guessing."
I almost smiled.
She was sharp. That's what I was counting on.
"Some conversations shouldn't happen over the phone," I said.
Diaz held my gaze for a moment. Then she stood, crossed to the door, checked the hallway, and closed it again firmly. The lock clicked into place.
"Talk," she said, returning to her seat.
I'd rehearsed this. How much to reveal, how much to hold back. Garrett and I had agreed—we needed someone on the inside, someone with subpoena power and access to records we couldn't get. But we also couldn't tip our hand to the wrong person.
Diaz had worked the Lang case with integrity, even when the family's money and influence made that difficult. She'd followed the evidence where it led.
I was betting she'd do it again
"The previous detective," I said. "What did he leave you?"
"Bare bones. Accelerant analysis, scene photos, witness canvases that went nowhere. Same signature on all five fires—commercial-grade accelerant, precise placement, timing between 2 and 4 AM." She shrugged. "Whoever's doing this knows what they're doing. Beyond that, he didn't give me much to work with."
"Did he look into the buildings themselves?"
"What do you mean?"
"Not just who owned them. What condition they were in. Whether there were any complaints on file."
Diaz's eyes narrowed slightly. "Should he have?"
I pulled the folder from my bag. Thin—just enough to show her we weren't working blind. "Every building this arsonist has targeted had documented fire safety violations. Exposed wiring. Blocked exits. Faulty sprinklers." I slid the folder across her desk. "All reported. None enforced."
She opened the folder. Scanned the first page. Flipped to the second.
"Where did you get this?"
"My liaison at FDNY. Lieutenant Garrett Stone."
Something flickered in her expression.
"Stone. I know that name."
"He's been documenting these violations for years. Buildings that should have been condemned, inspections that got signed off anyway." I watched her read, watched the crease deepen between her brows. "Cross-reference his files with your arson targets, and you'll see the overlap."
Diaz was quiet for a long moment.
When she looked up, her expression had hardened.
"You're saying someone inside FDNY has been burying these reports."
"I'm saying there's a pattern. One that explains why these specific buildings are being targeted—and maybe why the previous detective didn't get anywhere."
"That's a hell of an implication."
"It's not an implication. It's a question." I held her gaze. "One I think you're the right person to answer."
She closed the folder. Drummed her fingers against it once, twice.
