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My stomach drops.
“They lit it.”
Arthur sees the smoke.
“So will the fire department.”
“The nearest station is twenty minutes away.”
“Kane is there.”
We don’t know that.
I keep the thought to myself.
The smoke thickens as we approach Iron Ridge.
Black.
Heavy.
Too much for a small porch fire.
“They got inside,” Taylor says.
Arthur grips the wheel.
“Or they want it to look that way.”
The radio crackles.
Static.
Then a voice.
“Campbell.”
“Kane.”
“House is burning.”
“Where are you?”
“North side.”
“The men?”
“One down. One moving toward the equipment building.”
“Backpack?”
No answer.
“Kane.”
“I don’t have it.”
My chest turns cold.
