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Mid-afternoon on Monday, Chase walked into the hospital. The waiting area reminded him of the night he met Vanessa here. It had only been six weeks ago, but it seemed like a lifetime.

 He saw the guys huddled in a group, grimy, exhausted. He’d bet every single one of them in the fire was here, even though they’d been dismissed from duty.

Scarlatta saw him first and headed over. “Hey, Chief.”

“I got updates all day, but I’ve been busy at the scene. No injuries except for Truck 8, right?”

“Right.”

“How are they?”

Minor burns for Preston and Grant. Not a scratch on Tully.       “Santori’s got bumps and bruises and he’s sore as hell but they didn’t admit him. Murray’s still in there.” He nodded to the ER door.

“He okay?”

“Yeah, he’s got a bad bruise on his head. They’re watching for concussion.”

He looked over at the group. “Recommendations?”

“I’m hoping you order Santori and Murray to stay home a couple of days.”

“I will.”

Joe was sitting with his phone in his hand. The guy looked beaten up, but seemed to still be riding on the adrenaline spike of the fire. Chase remembered those days when energy flowed through you like a shot of good whiskey, making you capable of moving mountains. He covered the distance between them. “Hey, Joe. How are you feeling?”

His face was still black with soot, like most of the other guys. Firefighting was a dirty business as well as dangerous and draining.

“I’m okay. Better than Liam.”

“Scarlatta said Liam’s okay, too.”

“Yeah.”

“So why are y’all still here?”

Joe gave him a surprised look. “To make sure everything goes right. I’m his officer.”

“Did you go in and talk to him?”

“I did. But—”

“Then stand up. You’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

“I’m driving you home.”

He got to his feet with a long moan. “My car is at the firehouse and I want...”

Chase clapped Joe on the back. “You’re exhausted, and I’ll bet sorer than hell.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I should stay here till everything’s settled.”

“Do I have to make this an order?”

His posture slumped. “No. I ache all over.”

“Take a warm bath.”

“I got a Jacuzzi.”

“Then I must be paying you too much.”

They said goodbye to the guys and left the hospital. Chase had parked close, so he let Joe walk with him to the car. Once in the fire department Jeep, they headed to his house. “You got anybody to fuss over you, Lieutenant?”

 A chuckle. “I guess I do. She called when she heard about the fire. She’s coming over after school.”

“Holly Michaels?”

“Yeah, Holly Michaels.”

“Hopefully she can spend some time with you the next two days?”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“I’m benching you and Murray until Thursday.”

“No, Chief, I can...”

“Now that is an order.”

Joe sighed. “Agreed, Chief.”

They drove down a ways and Joe was silent. Chase glanced over. He was sound asleep. Nobody knew the toll firefighting took on the men and women in uniform unless they did the job. Chase wished he could do something about the public’s ignorance, but he knew his smoke-eaters would remain silent heroes.

Vanessa looked at the report that had come while she was at lunch. Dossier on Firefighters from House 8. For a brief few seconds, she thought about tossing the file into the trash. Chase would never forgive her for this.

But she was the mayor and had a responsibility to her constituents. She was also the daughter of the people who had been injured, maybe even shortening the length of their lives, by a fire which appeared to be intentional, to her at least.

She opened the cover. Six women and fourteen men worked at House 8. A picture accompanied each name. Down deep, she hoped the culprit wasn’t one of them. There was a bio for each person up to yesterday, then the report was organized by the shifts.

Group one: Overseen by Lieutenant Abe Amati, a twenty-year veteran. Married. Kids. Other than traffic tickets, he was a model citizen. Brady Abbott, the rookie, had gotten in a barroom brawl that he’d been reprimanded for. He was protecting a girl’s honor. Not much on Beth Ransom and Jesse Thomas. George Macon was a different story. Five years ago, he’d come from the FDNY, but the reason for his leaving was confidential. There weren’t any black marks on his record here, though.

Vanessa highlighted him in yellow.

Group 2 was headed by Pat Green, the captain of the house. He had debts: a house mortgage, two cars, private school for kids. An average American guy, as he kept up payments.

Of his group, Johnny Jolson could possibly be suspicious. He was an ex-cop with a big mouth who’d given everybody trouble. Mostly, it was Bull Warren who concerned her. Warren was a bully. Guys in the house didn’t like him. He’d been written up for inappropriate comments to female staff and for insulting one of the ten Muslim firefighters in their employ. She remembered the big man with beefy hands and a wiseass mouth at the firehouse when she’d gone with Chase to talk to the crew. Warren also had gambling issues. And two ex-wives who got alimony. He got the yellow marker too.

Last was Joe Santori’s group. She closed her eyes, not wanting to go further. What would she do if Joe was involved? She thought back to the firefighters on his shift who had rescued her parents and what he’d done for Holly the day of the fire. Afterward, they’d gotten close. Though her daughter played down their relationship, she could see in Holly’s eyes that she cared about this man. But there was no way Vanessa could let their relationship go further if he was a bad guy.

Practically holding her breath, she read his stats. A few credit card balances, a high car payment and modest house expenses. Thank God. On his shift, Liam Murray had no debts, but he had juvenile records that had been sealed. Hildy Grant had borrowed a ton of money for her elderly mother’s medical bills. Norm Preston was financially solvent. But he’d written letters to the Rockford Sentinel about her. Now she remembered. She’d caught wind of them last year, and had gone to Chase about the employees dissing the administration in public. The letters stopped.

After finishing the files, she sat back. She had to organize what all this meant. Why would these people be involved in the fire?

Back on her computer, she called up the arson notes she’d taken and turned to the six reasons for arson: vandalism, excitement, revenge, crime concealment, profit and extremism. The fire chief who’d written this article also noted a firefighter could be blackmailed into committing arson. Some of these people could be vulnerable to extortion. Or bribed for money they needed to keep their lives going.

But it was the revenge motive that chilled her. She’d made a lot of hard decisions in the last two years and someone could be trying to get to her through her parents.

Chase grinned at Kassie and Colette who were on their tablet using FaceTime with him. The girls had just gotten home from school. In the week since he gave Nancy money, nothing more had happened, so he tried not to worry about her crashing back into their lives.

“Don’t want you to go, Grandpa.” Colette’s lips pouted and she seemed about to cry.

“I don’t like leaving you two, either.”

Kassie gave him a small smile. “We’ll only be alone until Aunt Melinda comes after work.”

He checked the time in the corner of the computer screen. Only four p.m. “All right. But Kassie, go check all the doors into the house and make sure they’re locked.”

She took the tablet with her and found one exit to the side of the house that was open. She secured it.

Kass joined Colette.

“Make sure you stay inside.”

“It’s warm out. Colette wants to swing in the backyard. And Molly,” the little girl next door, “asked her to play.” She shrugged. “I kind of asked if Tommy and Sara wanted to hang out here after school, too.”

“I’m so glad you’re both making friends. Tell you what: have Colette tell Molly she can come for supper, and you can invite your friends, too. I’ll call Melinda and make sure she picks up enough pizza.”

“Okay.” Kassie turned to Colette. “Go call Molly.” When she was gone, Kassie gave him a very adult look. “What’s going on, Grandpa? Usually we can go out.”

“Just being cautious. Maybe because I’m going away.”

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Don’t get your feathers ruffled, honey. Write about what you’re thinking in the journal. I’ll write a letter to you while I’m gone, too. When I come home, we can talk about everything.”

“I guess.”

Colette came back smiling. “She’s coming, Grandpa.”

He said, “I love you to pieces, girls.”

In unison, they said, “Love you, too, Grandpa.”

He disconnected, sat back and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He was being overly cautious, but he didn’t even know if Nancy had left town as he hadn’t  followed through with getting the investigator yet. Shit. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Wasn’t Scott’s death enough for them to deal with?

“Thanks for coming in, Bob,” Vanessa said. I know I asked on short notice.”

“That’s okay. I have an hour until the training session starts at the academy.”

“Is this the four-day one you mentioned last week when we talked?”

“Yep.” He dropped down in the chair that faced the desk. “What’s going on?”

“I got the report back from the investigator I hired. After reading it, I decided that Truck 8 firefighters have to be interviewed.”

His brow furrowed. “Interviewed for what?”

“I’ve seen some reasons why they might have committed arson. Or maybe even have been hired or blackmailed by someone to do the job.”

His bushy brows rose. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“I’m not.” She explained the reports in the file that concerned her. “I’d like you in on this.”

“In on it how?”

“I’d prefer you interview them, but since you’re training for so long, tell me what you usually do with suspects and I’ll do it.”

“Vanessa, seriously, this is a huge deal. If we start accusing firefighters of arson, we’ll have the entire union after us. And we could have a lawsuit on our hands for casting doubt on guys I can’t believe are involved. Hell, I’d file one if I were falsely accused.”

Holding her tongue, she considered what he said. Was it worth the risk? What if she did nothing and something happened again? “I don’t have a law degree, Bob, but I took a lot of law courses when I got my Public Policy Master’s Degree, and there are ways to interview people without accusing them. And you know it. You just don’t want to help me.”

“You’re damned right, Madam Mayor.” His voice had risen.

“I’m your boss. I order you to do it.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then you’re suspended.”

He stood and towered over her. “Consider me suspended.”

“No, not until you do the training.”

“You honestly think I’m going to do anything for you now?”

“No, you’re going to do the training for young firefighters who need arson instruction. Unless my guess is wrong, your sense of honor and duty will force you to do that.”

His eyes narrowed on her and she saw the astute, savvy man beneath his gruff exterior. “No offense, ma’am, but maybe you should think about honor and duty before you go off half-cocked.”

Chase stopped at her office on his way out. Ignoring the guilt over his need to see her, he came to her doorway and indulged in the clear view of her: head down, brow furrowed. She took a deep breath and sighed.

“Vanessa?”

Glancing up, she smiled. Sadly. “Hi.”

He smiled back. Sadly. “I stopped to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?”

“Yeah, I’m going to Buffalo for the regional conference about creating a safe workplace environment.”

“Is that this week?”

“Yes.”

“I forgot all about it. Are you presenting?”

“Yes. Plus I’m on a panel of upstate New York chiefs about women in the fire department.” He rolled his eyes. “Not my forte these days.”

“You’ve hired a lot of women. Kudos to you.”

“Thank you, Madam Mayor.”

“Would you come inside for a few minutes and close the door? I have to talk to you and I’ve been putting it off all afternoon. But it can’t wait four days.”

“What about?”

“I have something to share with you that others can’t overhear.”

Chase did as she asked and sat down in front of her desk. He remembered a lot of heated times in this seat, when they used to argue about everything. It was different from the heat on that couch over there weeks ago. “This is serious.”

“It is.” She held up a file. “I hired a private investigator.”

“For what?”

“To look into the groups at House 8.”

Temper curled inside him. This morning had exhausted him, and he worried constantly about the girls being contacted by their mother. “Did Susan Summers”—her counsel—“agree with this?”

“I make my own decisions, Chase. However, I did talk to Susan, and she was okay with it.”

“But you didn’t talk to me?”

“Nancy had just shown up in your life when I decided on this course of action. I discussed it with Bob Zeleny, too, but he was busy with training, and I didn’t want to wait. So I hired an outside firm.”

“Why would you even think of doing something like this?”

She tossed back her hair in that way he didn’t like. “I got a tip. On the phone.”

“From who?”

“I don’t know. The person’s voice was distorted. He or she said to check into the smoke-eaters at House 8. That there were things I didn’t know that related to my parents’ house fire.”

He motioned to the file on the desk. “Is that the information on my people?”

“Yes.” She held it out to hand to him.

“I don’t want to read dirt on my firefighters.”

She slid it across the desk. “Please, Chase.”

Had she ordered him to it, he might have refused. “All right, I’ll scan it. I’m not much into being a Peeping Tom.”

“I resent that. I’m acting responsibly as the mayor of this town.”

“And my boss.”

“If you insist on putting it that way, yes.”

While he turned his attention to the file, she rose and walked to the coffeepot, brought them both cups. Man, this was dirt. That the department shouldn’t have. Grant’s medical bills. Liam’s juvenile record. Even Bull Warren’s crap, though a lot of his issues were common knowledge. After five minutes, Chase looked up, his insides churning. “Again, we have no business digging up this kind of information on my department members.”

“I need it! My parents were the victims of a fire.”

“What the hell are you going to do with all this? Accuse them of arson because they have big bills or some relationship problems?”

“I’m looking for motive.”

“In what way? Torching a place isn’t going to get them money.”

“If Bull Warren needed money, he could have been paid to dismantle the alarms or even set the fire.” She hesitated. “Or it could be a conspiracy.”

“Bullshit.”

She glared at him. “I could censure you for talking to me that way.”

“Go ahead and censure me. This is nonsense.”

“Why? They all have access to a key to my parents’ house.”

“We don’t even know it was arson! Zeleny doesn’t think it is.”

“Well I do.”

“To what end? What’s the motive here?”

“Someone with a grudge against the city. Or me. He could be trying to make us look bad.”

I’m not buyin’ it, Vanessa.”        

She folded her arms across her chest. “Liam Murray might have been a teenage arsonist.”

“You mean he might have set a fire as a kid. Hell, a lot of boys experiment with that.”

“As I said, there’s motive here.” She pointed to the file. “And opportunity.”

Horrified, he faced her squarely. “Listen to yourself. You’re playing amateur sleuth. Or worse, a cop.” His voice rose a notch. “With other people’s lives!”

“I need to understand what happened.”

“What you need to understand is these men and women put their lives on the line every day. They did this morning, in a big fire. Two guys were hurt, and I spent time at the hospital with them.” He thought of them all—achy, tired and filthy. “I won’t let you do this to them.”

“You won’t let me?” She slapped her hand on the desk. “Let me?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” He stood and threw the file on her desk, scattering everything.

She bolted up. “If you think one quick tumble on that couch over there has given you the right to forbid me to do something, you don’t know me any better than you did before we got close.”

“You’re right about that, ma’am.” He said the words quietly. Anybody who really knew him would know he never pitched a hissy fit. This was how he got when he was furious. “If you do this, don’t expect any semblance of the relationship we developed after the fire at your parents’ house. We’re back to being adversaries. I’ll warn you, I’m going to be your worst nightmare. And you’d better believe I won’t keep our disagreements private.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It damn well is.” He turned and walked out. Shocked. Angry and ambushed. He struggled hard to hang on to those emotions and not let the hurt seep in.