There were two things on my mind that next day: the fire and Chloe.

When I woke up that morning, I instinctively placed my hand on the side of the bed where she would’ve been sleeping had she stayed over. It was strange—even back in my player days I never really cared much for the company of the girls I’d brought over. As far as I was concerned, the girls could scram as soon as we’d gotten what we wanted from each other.

Chloe, on the other hand…she was different. When she rolled off the couch and started collecting her things, my heart sank a little bit, a wave of disappointment running through me. I’d only known her for a little while, but she’d gotten her hooks into me in a way that no other woman had before, not even my ex.

I went through the motions of getting ready for the day back at the station. The chief had given me the night off after the job last night, figuring a little R&R would do me some good. But when I woke up that morning, I was already chomping at the bit to get back to it.

“There’s Mr. Internet Sensation,” said Stone, his massive body in front of a laptop on the table in the station kitchen.

A few of the other guys were gathered around him, all of their eyes flicking from the screen to me then back again.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, a curious expression on my face. “You all watching Netflix or some shit? Don’t you have work to do?”

“More important stuff here,” said Stone. “Come check it out.”

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sidled in behind where the guys were gathered. The screen was opened to some YouTube video, the setting a New York street that looked very familiar.

“Check out that title,” said Stone, tapping the screen with his finger.

“‘Hero Firefigher’?” I asked. “What the hell is this?”

Then it hit me.

“Oh no…” I said.

“Oh yes,” said Stone. “Check out that view count.”

“Two hundred and forty-four thousand hits?” I asked. “No freaking way.”

“People love a hero, Ethan,” said Stone.

He tapped the play button, and the clip started. Sure enough, it was a recording of the rescue yesterday, taken from the vantage point of one of the civvies watching from the street. There was me, carrying that girl and leaping over to the other fire escape. The boys cheered as I stuck the landing.

“What a move! That was pretty bad ass, Stokes.” shouted Stone, slapping me hard on the shoulder.

“Someone’s gonna be drowning in pussy,” said Mike.

It was strange watching myself like that, and I turned away from the screen.

“What’s the matter?” asked Mike. “Feeling a little uncomfortable in the limelight?”

“Nah,” I said. “Just something about that fire. Seems off to me.”

“How you mean?” asked Stone. “Looked like a regular electrical fire or something to me. And we got it taken care of before it spread anywhere other than the store.”

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Just getting suspicious over nothing, I guess.”

“If you say so,” said Mike.

With that, Stone hit the play button again, starting the video from the beginning. I watched for a few seconds, this time noticing that Chloe had dashed in front of the camera on her way to wherever she’d hidden when she left the truck. I wanted to rewind the clip, to freeze it on her as she filled the screen for a brief moment.

I sipped my coffee, making the rounds and ensuring the place was in good shape for the day ahead. Mitch was in his big dog bed, and he raised his head as I walked past him in anticipation of the head scratch he could usually count on from me.

The fire was stuck in my head—I couldn’t get it out. Once I’d drained the last bit of my coffee, I stopped by the chief’s office and gave the door a quick rap.

“Come in,” came the gruff voice from inside.

I opened the door and stepped in. The chief’s office was a simple little space, decorated with a few pictures of his family, along with some shots of him back in his younger days with the rest of his crew. The chief sat at a small, simple desk, some documents spread out on the surface in front of him.

“There’s the viral star,” he said, turning his attention to me as I walked in, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. “Mind if I get an autograph while you’re here?”

“Sorry about that,” I said. “I know you don’t like the station to get unnecessary attention.”

“You kidding?” he asked. “Shit like THIS is gold for the station. Any time some city employee gets good coverage like this it makes the whole FDNY look good. Though, I should probably tell you I’ve already gotten a few calls from news stations asking if they could interview you.”

“Oh great,” I said. “What’d you tell them?”

“I said I’d get back to ’em,” he said. “But what’s up? Something tells me you didn’t come in here to talk about your newfound internet fame.”

“Mind if I sit?”

He gestured to one of the folding chairs in front of his desk. I slid into the seat and tried to figure out where to start.

“You ever get a feeling from one of the jobs you did? Like it’s more than you thought it was?”

Swift gave me a curious look. “Now, Ethan,” he said, “you know coming into my office saying things like that is just gonna make me tell you to get to the point, right?”

He was right, but that didn’t mean I felt any less crazy about the subject.

“It’s probably nothing,” I said, looking down and shaking my head.

“If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be thinking about it. Lemme guess—you got a gut feeling about the fire?”

I looked up, my eyebrows raised a bit.

“How—”

“You don’t make it to chief without developing a sixth sense about these sorts of things. Now, let’s hear it.”

“It’s just what you said,” I told him. “Just a gut feeling. When we got that girl out of that car crash the other day, for example, I didn’t think about it even for a minute after we’d saved her. Other than wanting to know if she was OK, that is. Meaning, I didn’t have any reason to think there was anything sketchy about the accident. But this fire…I don’t know. I can’t shake it. Even though I know there’s nothing that should be giving me pause.”

“And it doesn’t help when you try to rationally convince yourself there’s nothing to it.”

“Exactly, exactly.”

Chief sat back in his seat and weaved his hands together over his stomach.

“In my experience, when you get a little splinter in your mind like that the only way to get it out is to satisfy your curiosity.”

“Check out the scene?”

“Check out the scene later tonight. Maybe you’ll see something, maybe you won’t. Head over there later on. Let me know what you find.”

And that was all that needed to be said. Chief gave me a nod letting me know that we were done, and I left the office. The rest of the morning and afternoon passed by slowly, and by the time evening arrived I was keyed up and ready to check out the place, to see what there was to be seen. Soon, I was on my way to the scene of the fire, walking the streets of Williamsburg feeling both overly paranoid and purpose-driven.

Soon, I arrived at the scene of the fire. The bottom floor of the building was charred black, the inside an unsalvageable mess. The police had cordoned off the building, and whatever pedestrians happened to pass all stopped to take a look at the ruined shop.

I stepped up to the building, getting a closer look. At this distance, I spotted the black char of smoke on the brick front of the apartments. It was a damn miracle that this happened during the day when no one was home. If the fire had broken out at night, there was a good chance that the smoke would’ve killed the people who lived in the building before we even knew a fire had started.

I approached the police tape, glancing around to see if any cops were still on the scene. Even standing this close, I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. But that wasn’t good enough. I threw one leg then the other over the police tape and ducked into the building.

The smell of burned, well, everything, flooded my senses as soon as I stepped in. Glass crunched under my boot, and all I could see was black. Still, nothing stood out as any sign of foul play. I made my way slowly through the store, my eyes peeled.

I was about ready to give up by the time I reached the back storeroom of the shop and heard the low murmuring of conversation through the steel exit door.

“Looks fine to me,” I heard someone speak, the voice high and thin. “Don’t know what the hell you wanted us to come back here for.”

“Because the last time you got sloppy as hell. Got too close to getting popped,” spoke another voice, this one low and deep.

I stood still, listening carefully to the conversation.

“I don’t like doing this shit during the day,” said a third voice, this one a little melodic.

“I didn’t ask you what you liked. That’s how we’re doing it. Day jobs get more spectacle—send a clearer message, you get it?”

“Just makes me nervous,” said the third man.

I needed to get closer, to see what these guys looked like. It sure as hell seemed like they were talking about the fire. I spotted a broken window further along in the storeroom and slowly made my way toward it. When I was near it, I had a slightly better look into the alley. I took a quick peek out and spotted the figures of three men, all dressed in dark colors, mostly black.

“Now can we leave?” said the first man, the high-talker.

“Yeah,” said the second, the low-voiced man who seemed to be in charge. “Just wanted to make sure you two didn’t make any obvious screwups.”

“Thanks for the fuckin’ vote of confidence,” said the third man.

“When you two show you can pull off jobs without screwing up, then you’ll get all the confidence you could ask for.”

This was all I needed to hear. I needed some answers, and lurking in the shadows wasn’t my style. Moving as quickly as I could back out through the front of the store, I made my way around to the small alley behind the building. There, I saw the three men, standing just out of view behind a dumpster.

I stepped into the alley, cleared my throat, and called out to them.

“Hey,” I said, my voice echoing down the alley. “You guys mind answering some questions?”

The three faces turned and locked onto me, surprised expressions on each one of them.

“Who the fuck is that?” said the second man in his low voice.

On his face I spotted a long scar that started from his jaw and curved upward, stopping just at his scalp.

“I’m someone who wants to know why you’re loitering behind a potential crime scene,” I said.

“Screw you!” said the first man, a scrawny guy with pointed features.

“Let’s just get the hell out of here,” said the second man.

“Good fuckin’ call,” said the third.

With that, the three men turned on their heels and fled down the alley. I instinctively prepared to chase after them, but realized quickly that, should I even catch the men, there wouldn’t be a thing I could do. They were speaking suspiciously as hell, but it’s not like they’d openly confessed to torching the place.

I watched the three figures disappear down the alley. I shook my head and wished there was something more I could do. But I was a fireman, not a cop. That didn’t mean I wasn’t sketched out about this whole thing. There was something sketchy going on, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.