Page 2 of Burning Justice

Gemma was an attractive woman, but when she smiled, she was pretty. Really pretty. Not for the first time, he could swear he knew her but couldn’t place where or when they might have crossed paths.

“This is my partner, Blaze. Blaze, shake hands with the lady.”

His dog sat, then held up his paw and cracked his jaws as if he were smiling back.

Gemma leaned over and shook Blaze’s paw. “Nice to meet you, Blaze. He’s a big one. What is he, a Chessie?”

“You know your dogs.” Most people didn’t know what a Chesapeake Bay Retriever was. Given his eighty-five-pound muscular body, Blaze was usually mistaken for a Labrador mix on steroids. “You sure got here fast,” he said, still wondering if Gemma had an inside source.

“The owner’s son, Logan Hicks, called me.” She pointed to where a man stood talking to the fire chief. “This is the second fire they’ve had here in the last two weeks.”

“I know,” he answered, casting another glance at Hicks. There was always the possibility this fire was set by the owners themselves, who stupidly thought they could burn down their own building and collect on hefty insurance claims.

“And who called you?” Her brows rose for an instant, then quickly lowered. “I didn’t refer this case to you. In fact, I haven’t referred it to anyone.” Her words held an unconcealed note of suspicion, as if she wasn’t thrilled by him being here.

“The PD called me. I’ve been investigating the arsonist who’s been torching all the dumpsters down here.” In Colorado, anything south of Denver and the I-25/C-470 interchange was referred to as “down here.”

Gemma subtly shook her head. “I think you’re on the wrong track. I don’t think the dumpster arsonist you’re looking for set this fire. This is either insurance fraud—and I really don’t think it is—or something else.”

“Something else? Mind sharing?”

Eyes that he thought were hazel—but he couldn’t be sure in the dim, hazy light—studied him intently for a long moment. “This company, Frodo Building Supply, is doing very well. With Colorado’s housing boom, real estate prices everywhere are through the roof, and the building industry is skyrocketing. Not only is Frodo in the black, but the owner, Robert Hicks, is planning on his son taking over the business when he retires.” Again, she pointed to Logan Hicks. “They have no reason to burn down their own warehouse. And before the first warehouse fire last week, they’d never filed an insurance claim. They’ve been cooperating fully with the claims adjusters and now this happens.”

“So you do agree that it’s arson.”

“Of course.” Brett could swear she rolled her eyes at him. “Two fires at the same warehouse in two weeks? But again, not the arsonist you’re looking for.”

Brett chuckled. “The dumpsters next to this building were torched a few days ago. Where arson is concerned, I don’t believe in coincidences.” Like the fact that Torrance Lane, the location of the fire that killed those kids a year ago, was barely three blocks from where they were standing.

“I think that’s exactly what you’ve got here. A coincidence.” She planted one fist on her hip. “These warehouse fires don’t fit the same pattern as your guy. This warehouse was hit twice. This is personal. Whoever torched all those dumpsters did not set this warehouse fire. I think whoever did set this fire may also be responsible for other house fires around Colorado in the last few years.”

That pinged Brett’s radar. While eventually deemed accidental, the Torrance Lane fire had, in Brett’s estimation, been suspicious in nature. “I don’t see the link between these warehouse fires and house fires.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said with no small amount of exasperation. “I, however, would, because I have direct access to something you don’t, the ISO—Insurance Services Office—database. And I found something. I—”

Brett held up his hand.

Movement. A shadow thirty feet away, barely visible in the field behind her. He continued watching, waiting. It could have been a small tree he hadn’t noticed in the middle of the field.

But the tree began to move.

“Are you even listening?” Gemma made a hmphing sound. “Right. I didn’t think so.”

“Let’s go!” Brett and Blaze leaped over the guard rail, then took off at a dead run. Whatever was out there wasn’t a deer or a bear. It was human, and it was running away.

Brett’s heart pumped faster as he raced through the parking lot, trying to keep his eyes on the location where he’d last seen the shadow. Given that he usually ran at least seven miles every day, he was in good shape, yet Blaze loped easily beside him, forced to go at Brett’s relatively slow pace.

They dodged a glowing piece of the building that had become airborne. Blaze jumped as the debris landed next to them and exploded in a fiery burst of embers. When they reached the field on the other side of the building, Brett halted his dog and tugged a small, powerful, tactical flashlight from his belt. Breathing hard, he punched on the light, cutting through the darkness, but saw nothing in the field.

He unclipped Blaze’s leash and pointed. “Seek!”

His dog took off, his golden-brown coat visible for a few seconds before Brett lost sight of him. Blaze wasn’t cross trained as a patrol dog, but if this runner had come into contact with so much as a drop of accelerant, Blaze could track him.

Brett raced after Blaze, pounding over the hardpack terrain, his boots crunching on the dry grass. He couldn’t see his dog anywhere and stopped to swing the flashlight beam left and right in a broader arc.

Panting hard, he tried to slow his breathing to listen. A piercing cry drifted on the wind, and he aimed the beam toward the sound and took off running again. Eventually, his flashlight hit on Blaze’s coat.

Blaze sat, his big body trembling. A man on the ground scrambled backward on his elbows. Blaze was by no means an attack dog, but anyone with half a brain would be intimidated by his size. That didn’t stop Blaze from eyeing the suspect with the same intensity he’d afford a strip of bacon.