Scarlett leaned against the fire truck, her gaze never still as she roamed the scene laid out in front of her. It almost seemed surreal. On the amount of sleep she’d had the previous week, without the smell of burned wood, she could almost imagine the whole thing was a dream. Strangely, the smell wasn’t entirely unpleasant. There was an acrid undertone, but if she closed her eyes, it almost became more woodsy. That was strange, too. It was the middle of the day, and yet the sky seemed darker, more oppressive. The smoke wasn’t thick enough to obscure anything, but tendrils still spiraled up from nearly everywhere on the burned-out corner of the preschool. Thank goodness Connor and the guys had managed to save most of the building. The whole place would likely need to be rebuilt anyway, the smoke and water damage likely finishing off what had been spared by the flames.

She leaned forward, watching the firefighters as they combed through the building, making sure everything had been extinguished and the danger was over. A shiver ran through her at the sight of a spot fire breaking out along one of the walls that was still standing. The men and women who had responded to the fire were safe, and only one teacher had been at the school early and had managed to get out. No one had been hurt, but if the perp had waited even just an hour longer, the place could have gone up with over thirty four-year-olds inside.

Scarlett gripped her water bottle to stop it from shaking right out of her hands. She’d worked this case relentlessly, and so far she had jack. Less than that, in fact. When everything was boiled down, she had a piece of metal with a weird stamp on it and a whole lot of suspicions. Add the fact that she didn’t think the officer involved was even remotely in charge, and she had squat. She might be given more leeway from her colleagues, but she’d railed against that every chance she got after the first fog of grief had lifted. She’d be damned if she was going to take advantage of that in this circumstance. Arsonist or not, she wasn’t going to say his name out loud as a dirty cop until she had more proof. She glared at the ruined building before her, as if maybe if she stared at it hard enough, the answers would come floating out.

That was it. She’d had enough of sitting on the sidelines. She pushed her hand into a pocket and grabbed the heavy-duty gloves she’d equipped herself with on the way to the firehouse that morning and then strode over to where Chief Stone stood. “Safe to go in, sir?”

He nodded. “Grab a hard hat from somewhere first, and stay as close to the entrance as possible.”

She returned the gesture, moving quickly to search for a hat and get in there, before he changed his mind. Technically, she shouldn’t be there at all, and while Scarlett guessed that particular piece of news hadn’t filtered through command yet, she wasn’t going to push her luck by asking any more questions or making herself more visible than strictly necessary. She’d just stepped back past the trucks when a large pickup with the Monroe firefighters’ emblem emblazoned on the side pulled up near her position. She paused midstep. Attracting the attention of HQ wouldn’t help with her attempt to stay under the radar. When the door to the truck opened and a tall, dark-haired man stepped out, Scarlett’s held breath left her in a whoosh, and she smiled. Liam Cohen—the county arson investigator. Even though he worked out of HQ, she knew he spent more time on the road than stuck in an office. The way Connor and the others had spoken about him, Liam was just one of the guys.

She hurried over, waving to catch his attention. “Liam, hi.” He smiled back, tipping his head in greeting as he climbed out of the truck and then leaned back inside, grabbing a jacket and hard hat. Scarlett gestured toward it. “Would you happen to have another one of those I could borrow?”

“No problem,” Liam said. He turned, reaching into the bed of the truck and pulled out a second, presenting it to her. “My spare. It’s a little beat up, but it’ll do the job.”

Scarlett grinned. “Better that than your head.”

Liam chuckled and leaned forward, plonking the hat on her head. “Very true.” He turned to walk toward the scene, and Scarlett fell into step beside him. “They find anything for me yet?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not that I know about. This is the first time I’ve been allowed to leave my assigned waiting point on the back of the truck.”

Liam grinned. “I hope the boys aren’t making things too difficult for you. This is the first time since I’ve worked here that there’s been a joint task force, officially, anyway.”

“Not at all. They’ve been great.” Her cheeks stained lightly at the comment. It was the truth. The guys at the firehouse had been nothing but welcoming, and had been happy to talk to her about whatever could help—once they’d figured out she wasn’t trying to push them aside or take over, that was. But still, Scarlett couldn’t help her thoughts returning to Connor. He’d been a big reason why she’d been so warmly welcomed, she was sure, and he’d definitely made the last couple of weeks more enjoyable, no matter how frustrating the actual investigation had been. There, it had been one road block after another. Perhaps searching the scene with Liam’s trained eyes would give her something. “See anything?” she asked.

Liam’s gaze was roving around what remained of the front room of the preschool. Scarlett couldn’t tell if it had been destroyed more by fire or whatever had started it, but there wasn’t much left. The sky was clearly visible above her head, and the walls that were still standing looked like it wouldn’t take much more than a stiff breeze to send them toppling over, too. Large black scorch marks coated them in what seemed like every direction, charring visible along much of the drywall. She took another step forward, and the ground crunched softly beneath her feet. Half soggy carpet, half ash, and probably bits of what remained of burned items combined to make one hell of a mess. She watched as his gaze caught something and he moved swiftly to the other side of the room. She followed, paying little attention when her feet kicked through a section of ash and dirt that was miraculously not wet, sending a dusting of black all over her jeans.

By the time she’d caught up to Liam, he was squatting down close to the ruined floor, a frown on his face as he snapped images with a small pocket camera. He held up a hand as she approached, and Scarlett stopped moving before taking in a breath and then gingerly stepping where she could see the outline of his footprints, squatting down beside him. What had he found? Her ability to breathe at all nearly disappeared when she saw what Liam was cataloging. A piece of pipe lay on the ground before him, an end cap a little further away, and what looked like a small clump of half-melted nails sat a few yards away on the floor. Scarlett leaned forward and nearly lost her balance when her gaze landed on the end of pipe as Liam rotated it with a pen, snapping an image of the other side.

Her hand flew out as she flailed, and Liam nearly dropped the camera in his haste to steady her, but she barely reacted. There, stamped into the end of a pipe bomb was the symbol that had been haunting her: two inverted triangles. Despite the damage to the school, they were as clear as day, and the sight froze Scarlett’s blood in her veins.

Liam shot her a concerned look before pulling himself upright and wrapping an arm around her waist until he seemed sure she wasn’t going to topple over on him. Once she was steady, he removed his hand, then turned and called out across the scene. “Everybody out!”