Page 33 of Burning Justice

Gemma gripped her portfolio tighter. Now she had her answer. That trauma she worried about…it was still with him, hanging like an anvil over his head. Maybe hers, too.

Chapter Nine

Brett clipped on Blaze’s harness, looking forward to the distraction of inspecting the burned-out shell of what had once been 986 Ruby Road in Leadville. Spilling his guts in a federal courtroom had sucked worse than doing it in front of a shrink. He’d done it for Gavin Aldrich, and it had been worth it.

Helping Gavin to stay out of jail, at least for another two months, had left Brett feeling victorious and more determined than ever to nail whoever was burning down these houses. He knew Gemma had wanted to pepper him with questions about his past. Mercifully, she hadn’t, and he appreciated her respecting his privacy. Or what was left of it, after his very public, very on-the-record testimony.

The early evening light was still bright and cheery, the air a pleasant seventy degrees. At over ten thousand feet elevation, Leadville was the highest incorporated city in the country, the climate a welcome contrast to the eighty-five-degree heat they’d left behind in Denver.

With the light breeze came the smell of charred wood. Stands of creaking ponderosa pines surrounded the burned structure, along with shrubs and tall grasses. A few birds twittered away in the high branches over their heads. It was a wonder the surrounding property hadn’t caught fire, as well. The fire could easily have jumped, then spread to other houses.

Brett looked around. There were no other houses. Not close by. No other property owners who could have witnessed the fire. Convenient.

“Not much left of the place.” Gemma snapped a few shots on her phone. “If we don’t find something, the fire marshal will have no choice but to declare this fire as being accidental.”

“Even a burned-out house has a pattern. Police treat every death as a homicide until proven otherwise. Fire investigation is no different. You know every fire is considered arson until proven otherwise. Sometimes, proving a negative is just as important.”

“You and Blaze have your work cut out for you.” She tucked her portfolio under her arm, then stroked his dog’s ears. “Why the harness this time?”

“The handle.” He gripped the rolled vinyl handle on the top of the harness. “If we get into trouble, and I need to get him out of there fast, it’s easier hauling out an eighty-five-pound dog with a handle.”

“Have you ever had to use it?”

Brett shook his head. “Not yet, but there’s a first time for everything.” Hopefully not today. He tugged on a pair of leather gloves.

Yellow caution tape surrounded the structure. The remains of the house were completely charred. Only sections of the ground floor walls were still standing. The second floor and roof were gone, most of it having burned away or collapsed onto the first floor.

Any remaining interior support beams were black and sooty. A burned, melted TV and a charred wood table were visible, along with small sections of sheetrock and pink insulation. The only thing that hadn’t burned was about five feet of the brick chimney left standing.

Blaze stomped and shook his head, eager to get to work.

Gemma flipped open a folder the Leadville–Lake County fire marshal, Duke Grant, had given them when they’d stopped by his office. “Grant said his preliminary findings indicate the fire was probably caused by a short circuit.”

Brett glanced at the open folder. “Any photos backing that up?”

She held out the folder for him to look as she flipped through the fire marshal’s photos. “Not that I can see.”

“The other houses you’ve been looking into,” Brett said, “how many of them were in isolated parts of town, hidden from the road and with no neighbors close by?” Like this one. The closest house was over half a mile away. A thick stand of trees all but blocked the house from the road. The only reason the fire had been reported by a neighbor was due to wind carrying the smoke across the road and eventually to the next house.

Gemma looked up from the folder. “All of them.”

Again, how convenient. If their theory was correct, Brett suspected they’d find a similar scenario at the house in Burlington. “Without physical evidence, we’ll have to find another way to prove arson. If it was arson.”

“Physical evidence is yours and Blaze’s specialty. Documentation is mine.” She grinned, emphasizing a slight cleft in her chin that he hadn’t noticed before. He could well imagine kissing that cleft, then—

Work, Tanner. Back to work.

“Give us a few minutes to work the perimeter.” Knowing Blaze was raring to go, Brett tightened up on the lead, then pointed in the direction he wanted him to go. “Seek.”

Blaze put his nose to the dry grass, sniffing, his tail whipping back and forth. For the next twenty minutes, he directed Blaze into ever-tightening circles around the structure, until they arrived at where the front steps used to be.

“Anything?” Gemma asked.

“Nothing.” Blaze hadn’t alerted outside the house. That didn’t mean there wasn’t something inside. He eyed the remains of the house for structural integrity, then pushed gently on one of the burned timbers on either side of the front doorway. It didn’t budge. What was left of the door itself lay in a patch of burned grass, its hardware still intact. For that matter, the door wasn’t as burned as he would have expected.

“Hold him for me.” He handed Gemma Blaze’s lead. “Stay,” he said to his dog. Before allowing his dog into the debris, a safety walkthrough was in order.

With the porch and front steps burned away, Brett had to haul himself up the three feet to get inside. His boots crunched on sooty debris as he walked through the house, noting a few pieces of precariously positioned ceiling beams that hadn’t burned away or fallen down. Definitely a safety concern.