"I can use everything." She meets my eyes, and there's fire in her gaze that has nothing to dowith the smoldering building behind her. "I'm going to find him, Aiden. Today. Before he has a chance to light another match."
"What do you need from me?"
She hesitates, and I can see the internal struggle—the part of her that wants to handle everything alone warring with the part that's learned to let me in.
"Come with me to interview Marsh," she finally says. "If he's our guy, I want backup. And if he's not, I want a second perspective on his story."
"Done."
"It might be dangerous. If he realizes we're onto him?—"
"Riley." I push off from the truck and close the distance between us. "I've run into burning buildings for strangers. You think I'm going to let you face a potential murderer alone?"
"He's not a murderer. No one died tonight."
"Not for lack of trying." I take her hands, soot-stained and cold. "We do this together. That's how it works now."
She looks at our joined hands for a long moment. When she looks up, there's vulnerability in her expression that makes my chest ache.
"I'm not used to this," she admits quietly. "Having someone. Depending on someone."
"I know."
"It scares me."
"I know that too."
"But I'm glad it's you." The words come out soft, like she's paying for each one.
I lift her hands and press a kiss to her knuckles, tasting soot and determination. "Let's go catch an arsonist."
Daniel Marsh lives in a rundown apartment complex on the east side of Copper Ridge, the kind of place where the stairwell lights flicker and the hallways smell like mildew and old cigarettes. We've coordinated with the police—Detective Orozco is meeting us here with two uniforms as backup.
"You ready for this?" I ask as we wait in the parking lot.
"I'm always ready." But her knee is bouncing, and she keeps checking her phone for updates.
Orozco pulls up in an unmarked sedan, a stocky woman with a no-nonsense haircut and the kind ofeyes that have seen too much. She nods to Riley with professional respect.
"Pritchard. Heard you've got a solid lead."
"Daniel Marsh. Former property manager for Blackwood Properties, fired eight months ago for falsifying inspection reports. Lost his wrongful termination suit three months ago. All three fire targets were Blackwood-owned buildings."
"That's solid motive."
"People have killed for less."
Orozco nods to her uniforms. "Let's do this."
The walk up to Marsh's third-floor apartment feels endless. Every creaking step, every flickering light, ratchets up the tension. Riley's got her hand near her hip—she's not armed, but the gesture speaks to how keyed up she is.
Orozco knocks. "Daniel Marsh? Police. We need to speak with you."
Silence.
Another knock. "Mr. Marsh, open the door please."
Movement inside—footsteps, then a crash, then the unmistakable sound of a window sliding open.
