Page 20 of Burning Justice

“Oh, you know. Another summer working for the State G. What can I do you for?”

“Can you run an employment check for me?” He pointed to the top folder in Gemma’s lap. “Name’s John or Johnny Nash.” When she opened the folder to Nash’s application form, he leaned over and read off Nash’s social security number.

“How soon do you need it?”

“ASAP.”

“How’s tomorrow or the day after? I’m seriously backed up.”

“That works. Thanks.” Only because they’d be interviewing Gavin Aldrich tomorrow, followed by attending his court hearing, and probably wouldn’t have time to track down Nash until after that.

“I’ll reach out when I have the info,” Kai said, then Brett ended the call.

Gemma closed the folder. “What’s that going to do for us? Nash just got out of jail.”

He snagged Blaze’s leash from the rearview mirror. “It’s a long shot, but if he did find work up in Denver like he told his sister, then there should be at least one pay period’s worth of records on the guy since he was released.”

“You know, you’re not half bad at this.”

“Gee, thanks.” Wiseass.

Outside, the faint odor of smoke lingered. Brett popped Blaze’s door, then waited at the back of the SUV. His dog knew the drill. Blaze leaped from the kennel, took care of business on a nearby signpost, then loped over and waited for Brett to clip on his leash. The moment he did, Blaze began wagging his tail, the same as he always did right before they went to work.

He handed Gemma a plastic 35mm film container.

“What’s this?”

“Latex gloves. Best way to keep them from being contaminated.”

“Nifty.” She pulled out the gloves and, within seconds, had them on.

He opened his evidence kit, pointing at the hard-sided case. Blaze rose on his hind legs, resting his front paws on the tailgate, and began sniffing the kit.

“What’s he doing?” Gemma asked.

“I always have him run over my collection kit to double-check my tools, make sure they’re totally clean after the last use.”

Blaze gave the kit a good sniffing but didn’t alert. When he lowered to the ground, Brett pulled down the door. “Let’s go.”

For safety reasons, what was left of the roof after the fire had been intentionally knocked down by the fire department so it wouldn’t fall on their heads.

“Jose?” he called out.

“That you, Brett?” a voice came back from somewhere inside. Moments later, Jose met them at the door. In his hand was a clipboard with a hand-drawn sketch.

“This is Gemma Scott with the NICB,” Brett said, and Gemma shook hands with the older, stocky man. “Take any samples yet?”

Jose shook his head. “Just got done with my sketch. The owner sent over an inventory map. The warehouse was divided into sections. Tools. Chemicals. Wood. The expensive woods—ebony, rosewood, mahogany—were on the far end, the key word being ‘were.’ Nothing much left but an expensive pile of ash.” He pointed to a melted box on the ground by the door. “I found evidence inside that the hardwired connection to the smoke alarms may have been cut, which would explain why the alarm company never received the alert.”

“Makes sense,” Brett agreed. Especially if a former employee, one who knew the building’s layout, had set this fire.

He looked inside the warehouse while Blaze strained at the leash. The first thing that jumped out at him was the burn line of ash leading directly to the door. As he’d surmised, the arsonist had lain down an accelerant-soaked rope right up to the front door where he’d flicked that cigarette before making his escape.

“What’s the ash from?” Gemma asked, snapping a shot on her phone.

“More rope remains. Unless you give accelerant something to ignite, once the vapor burns off, there’s nothing left to feed the fire.”

The smell of smoke was more intense within the shell of the warehouse. The concrete floor was still damp from all the water that had been used to put out the fire. “See that?” He nodded to a shallow puddle.