Chapter 3

The red-tailed hawk was back, and Wes was pretty sure she was laughing at him.

She landed on the railing of the fire tower’s observation deck, turning her head sideways and fixing one eye on Wes through the wall of glass that made up the south side of the tower room. He took a slow sideways step, his arm lifting ever so slowly as he reached for the camera sitting on the rolling workstation. If he hadn’t been worried that the sound of his voice would startle the hawk, he would’ve used the voice command to move the wheeled table—and the camera—closer to him.

The red-tailed hawk was pathologically camera shy, but Wes was determined. The bird had been basically taunting him all summer and fall, posing like a Vogue model until Wes lifted his Canon. As soon as the perfect shot was a second away, the hawk took off—every single time.

Today looked like it was the day. He even had the right lens on. His fingers closed around the camera, and the hawk didn’t startle or fly away. Instead, she stayed stock-still, watching him. Forcing himself to keep his movements slow and smooth, he raised the camera and peered at the blurry shape through the viewfinder. Far behind it, the town of Monroe, with its blackened buildings covered in a fresh layer of white snow, nestled in the valley. It would’ve looked like a Christmas card if it hadn’t been for the plume of smoke rising from the southwest side of town.

The camera’s auto-focus kicked in, but it was too late. Shot forgotten, Wes returned the camera to the table and grabbed his binoculars, barely noticing as the startled hawk flew away. Scanning the area, he searched for the smoke he’d spotted through his camera lens. Although Colorado’s traditional wildland fire season was technically over, he still kept watch over Monroe and the forested acres that surrounded the tiny town.

Peering through the binoculars, he found the grayish-white plume again. Without looking away, he reached out again—for his radio, this time. The town had already had a rough few weeks. The last thing it needed was another disaster.

Too bad that’s exactly what it had.

* * *

“You can ride with me, greenie,” Hugh said, heading for one of the squad cars.

“I’ll follow. I have my dog with me.” As if to prove her statement true, Justice popped up and stuck his jowly muzzle out of the partially opened window. All three of the other cops made beelines for her SUV, and she grinned, her spirits lightening for the first time since she’d met her new unit. Unlocking her car, she used her body to block Justice from leaping out until she could hook his leash to his harness. He was trained to wait for her command before exiting the car, but he was wiggling with excitement, and Kit knew he had a tendency to forget his manners when new people and places and animals and smells caught his attention.

The leash snap clicked into place. “Okay.” As soon as she moved aside, he launched himself at the closest of the cops. His front paws hit Otto right in the belly as the dog tried to climb up the big man to lick his face.

“Justice, off.” Kit was relieved when the dog listened, dropping to his haunches with his skinny tail whipping back and forth, making a one-winged snow angel. Otto didn’t seem bothered by the enthusiastic greeting. Crouching down in front of Justice, he ran his hands over the dog’s long, floppy ears, and his tail-wagging accelerated into turbo-mode.

“He listens well for a hound,” Otto said approvingly, and Kit beamed. Training Justice had been a long, frustrating slog, with almost as many backward steps as advances, so it was wonderful to have someone understand and acknowledge her success.

“Thank you,” she said as Hugh elbowed Otto aside to get to the dog. Theo shoved his way in as well. Justice gave a low, blissful groan, in heaven from all the attention. “It took a lot of time and effort, but he does really well now. We’re going to start working off-lead once we settle in.”

Hugh ran his hand over one of Justice’s long ears and held it out to the side. “I can’t get over these ears. They’re so floppy.”

Glancing at the sharply pricked ears of the Belgian Malinois in the back of the squad car next to them, Kit smiled. “Not quite what you’re used to.”

Three portable radios beeped in unison, and the men straightened, wincing at the crackle of feedback until Otto and Hugh turned their radios off, leaving only Theo’s on.

“Fire Rescue One, there’s been a report of a possible structure fire in the area of Hibberd Street and Canyon Road.”

After a short pause, a male voice responded. “Fire One copies. What’s the address?”

“Unknown at this time. The complainant is the forest service lookout at Sayer Tower.”

“Copy. En route to the general area of Hibberd and Canyon Road.” The firefighter didn’t sound happy, and Kit couldn’t blame him. Searching for the fire would take precious time.

“We respond to fire calls, so I guess you’re getting a trial by literal fire,” Hugh said as he headed for the driver’s door of his squad car. Justice, not wanting to lose his new friend and personal masseuse so soon, tried to follow, but Kit’s grip on his leash kept him close to her. “Follow me.”

So much for getting a day to fill out paperwork, she thought, loading Justice into the back seat before climbing behind the wheel. As she cranked the engine, she smiled. If she was honest, taking a call was much more interesting than reading the SOP manual and completing a W-2. It wasn’t what she expected from this sleepy-looking town, but nothing—from the time she’d arrived in Colorado until now—had gone how she’d thought it would. She just needed to roll with the changes and try to learn as she went.

As she followed Hugh out of the lot, Kit noted that his car and Theo’s right behind them were marked with “Bedrock County Sheriff’s Department.” Only Otto’s SUV, which turned in the other direction as he presumably headed home after his night shift, had “Monroe Police Department” painted on the sides. Kit wondered if they’d lost their vehicles when the station was bombed.

Lights and sirens activated, Hugh weaved his way through the residential streets, and Kit followed, marveling again at the quiet emptiness of the town. “Why do I feel like we’re going to be fighting off zombies when we get to the fire?” she asked Justice, who made a quiet huff of what Kit took as agreement.

Despite the wail of the two squad car sirens, it felt too quiet in her car. Ever since she’d left her old police department, the lack of a radio left an aching hole inside her, as if it were a missing limb. She felt cut off and unhappily oblivious without that link, and she reached down to touch her cell phone where it sat in her pocket. Despite the layer of fabric separating her from it, the hard shape reassured her. She wasn’t completely cut off from everything and everyone at least.

Theo slowed, and Kit assumed they were getting close. The air was getting hazier, and she could smell smoke—and the acrid burn told her that it wasn’t a cozy little campfire. Something was burning that wasn’t supposed to be burning.

Kit turned, staying close to the squad car in front of her. It was a real-life version of Hot and Cold—with the potential for real-life property damage or even death. She scanned the area, looking for the source of the smoke. Their small convoy turned left and the haze thickened, irritating Kit’s throat. She knew it would be hard to stop coughing once she started, so she fought the urge as they rounded a curve in the road. The houses thinned even more, making her suspect that they were getting close to the edge of town.

There it was. Kit felt a little silly for how she’d been peering around earlier, hunting for the source of the fire, when it was so obvious now that it was within sight. The lower-level windows of the two-story house glowed red, and smoke billowed from the eaves. She was no firefighter, but it looked to her like the interior was engulfed—at least the first floor.

There wasn’t a garage that she could see, and no vehicles were parked in the driveway, so she hoped that this was one of the many homes that sat vacant over the winter. Without the right equipment or training, she couldn’t run in to save anyone, but she didn’t think she’d be able to stop herself if she knew someone was inside.

Hugh angled his car to block most of the road, and Theo whipped his squad car around and turned onto the next cross street. Kit assumed that he was going to block traffic on the other side of the burning house. She parked off to the side, as far out of the way as she could manage without driving into the snowbank. Without lights or a marked car, she didn’t want to use her vehicle to try to control traffic—not that Monroe seemed to even have any traffic, except for their three cars.

Hugh’s siren went silent, although his lights still flashed. In the sudden quiet, Kit could hear the approaching wail of the fire trucks, and she felt her shoulders lower from where they’d been jammed up around her ears. The firefighters would be there soon, so she wouldn’t have to risk getting burned to a crisp if someone inside the house needed rescuing.

She got out and hurried over to meet Hugh. Her instinct was to rush to the house to make sure no one was inside, but she knew better. Getting herself hurt wouldn’t help anyone. She knew she needed to wait for Fire to arrive, since they had the right tools and training.

As Hugh climbed out of his squad car, he stumbled slightly before catching the door for balance. His gaze immediately locked on to her as she approached, and he scowled. After one look at his intimidating expression, she didn’t ask if he was okay. She did wonder what was wrong, though. Otto had mentioned a cast being removed from his arm, but that wouldn’t make his leg unsteady. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it, so she kept her mouth closed.

“This is the Nailors’ place,” he said, striding around the car to get closer to the burning house. “They’re in California for the winter.”

“No one should be in there, then.” Her stomach unknotted slightly as she followed.

“Not unless they have a squatter,” he said, his face serious as he eyed the windows. Although they were still a safe distance from the house, the heat on her face went from gently warming to uncomfortable in just a few strides. Kit stopped, scanning around the structure for a propane tank or anything that might explode. It looked clear, except for the wooded area in the backyard. She hoped it wouldn’t spread. After just another step, Hugh halted, as well. “Still, they’re going to hate to hear about this.”

The fire engine’s siren wailed loudly as it turned the corner and came into view, and Hugh jogged back to his squad car, backing it up a few feet so the truck could roll close to the burning house. A second fire department vehicle—a rescue truck—followed, and Hugh’s squad moved to block the road again.

Feeling useless, Kit did her best to stay out of the way. It grated on her to not be helping. After eight years with her old department in Wisconsin, she’d been at the point where she’d almost always known what to do in any situation. Now, she felt like she’d been reduced to a rookie again.

Shaking off her moment of self-pity, she watched as a handful of firefighters got out of the trucks, pulling out equipment and unrolling hoses with quick efficiency. Hugh headed toward the firefighter who was giving orders next to the engine.

“Good thing it’s unoccupied,” the fireman said as he attached a hose to the side of the truck. “We’re running on a skeleton crew here.” He sent Kit a quick glance before refocusing on his task. “You must be new.”

“Yes.” Since his hands were occupied, she didn’t hold hers out for him to shake. “Kit Jernigan.”

“Steve Springfield.” Although he didn’t actually smile, still focused on his task, his raised eyebrows made him look amused. “Hugh’s your PTO?”

Uncertain, she looked at Hugh, her stomach dropping at the idea. She knew she’d be assigned to an officer for her probationary training period, but she hadn’t realized that it would be Hugh. He didn’t seem all that impressed with her, so she hoped it wasn’t going to be an endless and miserable two months until she was allowed to take calls on her own.

“That I am,” Hugh answered her unspoken question.

Steve tightened the hose connection before sending Kit another fast but sympathetic glance. “Good luck with that.”

“Hey!” Hugh protested, but they both ignored him.

“Thanks,” Kit said dryly. Steve called out to someone manning the controls at the top of the truck before flipping down the face shield of his helmet and jogging toward the flaming house, hose nozzle in hand. He stopped to wave back a firefighter heading toward the house carrying a wicked-looking ax.

“It’s too far gone!” Steve shouted over the roar of the flames and the rumbling engines. “We need to keep it from spreading to the trees. Help Johnson!” The ax-wielding firefighter nodded and hurried toward the west side of the house.

Before Steve could move any closer to the fire, Kit called out, “Need help? I haven’t had firefighter training, but I’d be happy to do any grunt work.” Belatedly, she looked at Hugh. It hadn’t crossed her mind to check with him before offering to help. She wasn’t accustomed to asking permission from anyone except her sergeant or lieutenant. The whole starting at the bottom thing was going to take some getting used to. “Unless Hugh had a different plan?”

He smirked at her. “Nice attempted save, but that’s a good idea. Where do you need us, Steve?”

“Thanks.” Steve whistled sharply, catching the attention of the firefighter on top of the engine. “Calvarone! Volunteers!” He pointed at Kit and Hugh before turning back to the fire.

“Both of you grab helmets from the cab, and I’ll put you to work.” Calvarone grinned down at them from his perch on top of the truck before refocusing on the controls. As Kit and Hugh moved toward the passenger-side door of the engine, Steve’s booming shout made Kit’s head whip toward the fire.

“Back! Get back!” he yelled, and the firefighters retreated. One side of the roof sagged before the entire west side of the house started to droop. It felt like time slowed down as the house caved in on itself with a deafening crash, sending flaming debris flying over the heads of the fleeing firefighters. Even Kit ducked, although she wasn’t close enough to be in danger, and then her gaze raked the area, looking to see who was injured. Her hand reached for a nonexistent portable radio, and she cursed her lack of equipment before remembering Hugh was there as well. She turned toward him, but he was already calling for an ambulance.

“Johnson! Lee! Chausky!” Steve, upright and appearing unhurt, immediately started calling for each firefighter’s status. When the last one answered that he was okay, Kit felt her shoulders finally drop as the tension left her. She met Hugh’s gaze, and they exchanged a look of utter relief.

“Firefighters are nuts,” Hugh said as he fished two helmets out from the back seat of the cab. “Everyone knows you run away from fire, not toward it.”

She laughed. “Just like everyone knows you run away from the sound of gunfire, not toward it?”

Handing one of the helmets to her, he shrugged. “I didn’t say cops aren’t nuts, too.”

Kit spent the next few hours in a borrowed fire helmet, fetching tools and bottles of drinking water and everything else that the firefighters requested. Hugh and Theo helped as well, and Kit felt a slight easing of her first-day nerves. It was good to see that her new partners were willing to lend a hand, even when it wasn’t part of their job description. When the flames were out and the firefighters were digging through the ashes and blackened wreckage, searching for smoldering embers, Kit approached Steve. She was careful to stay out of everyone’s way and far from anything that looked like it could fall on her head.

“Need anything else?” She handed Steve a water bottle, and he accepted it with a weary smile of thanks.

“We’re pretty much done here, except for the mopping up.” Unscrewing the lid, he took a drink before slogging back into the blackened shell that had been a house just hours earlier. Looking over his shoulder, he called, “Thanks for your help.”

“No problem.” Now that she was standing still, Kit realized how tight her muscles had gotten. Putting her hands on her lower back, she stretched out her spine as she surveyed the scene. Water from the hoses and melting snow created a muddy moat around the burnt skeleton of the ruined house, adding to the desolate picture.

“What a mess,” Hugh muttered, echoing her thoughts as he walked up next to her.

Kit turned toward him. “Has someone contacted the owners?”

“I left a message, but they haven’t called back yet.” He frowned, adjusting his borrowed fire helmet. “They’ve owned this place for decades. They’re going to be crushed.”

“At least no one was hurt,” Kit said, watching Steve as he lifted a blackened board.

Hugh made a wordless sound of agreement.

“Steve seems less annoying than most firefighters,” Kit said absently, and then darted a look at Hugh when she realized she was talking to her new PTO, whom she’d only known for an hour. But judging by his huge grin, he agreed with her.

“Yeah, Steve’s a good egg. Too bad he’s moving.”

“Where’s he going?”

“His brother has a ranch southeast of here. Steve’s already sent his four kids there, but he’s not leaving until his spot gets filled. As you can see, their numbers are already low.” Hugh spread his arms, indicating the handful of firefighters scattered around the scene. Even though Kit knew they were in a much smaller town than what she was used to, it really was a ridiculously tiny number.

“Why are they so short-handed?” she asked.

“Same reason Steve’s leaving as soon as he can.” Although Hugh sounded amused, there was a grimness underlying his voice. “The semi-apocalypse scared some people away. Well, that, and the fact that this town is always a handful short of a ghost town in the winter.”

Kit could understand that. Just her short drive had almost been enough to send her out of town screaming, and, unlike Steve, she didn’t have any kids to protect. “Can’t really blame him for leaving.”

Before Hugh could respond, Steve gave a wordless shout from the middle of the wreckage. Exchanging a glance, Kit and Hugh jogged toward him.

“What is it?” Hugh asked, carefully picking his way through the still-smoldering debris.

“Remains.” Steve’s voice was grim as he bent over a blackened form.

“Human?”

Kit gave Hugh a sideways look at his question, but Steve seemed to take it in stride as he took out his cell phone. “Yeah. Pretty sure this is the point of origin, too.”

“Shit.” With a heavy exhale, Hugh reached for the portable radio on his belt. “Dispatch, we’re going to need the county coroner and the chief.”

“Copy.”

Tapping at his phone screen, Steve raised his cell to his ear. “Hey, Captain. You might want to call the fire marshal and then head this way. We’re here at a structure fire with at least one casualty.”

Kit pulled out her camera again and took multiple photos of the charred shape, staying several feet away so she didn’t contaminate the scene. Although she’d worked on a few arson cases with the investigators at her old department, she wasn’t an expert on burns and the effects of fire. What remained of the shrunken limbs were flexed in the pugilistic posture typical of burn victims, and the ash-colored skull had fractured into pieces.

Hugh gave a sharp whistle, making Kit look at him, but he was focused on catching Theo’s attention. “Can you grab tape?”

Raising a hand in acknowledgment, Theo headed toward his squad car.

As soon as Steve ended the call with his captain, Hugh asked quietly, “What do you think? Arson, or a lost hiker falling asleep with a lit cigarette?”

As he stared at the remains, the muscles tightened in Steve’s jaw. “Only if they doused themselves with some sort of accelerant, first.”

Air left Hugh’s lungs in an audible huff. “Seriously? Can’t we catch a break? The worst crime around here used to be Mr. Wittlespoon stealing from the diner’s take-a-penny dish, and now people are either blowing shit up or burning it down. For Pete’s sake, are some petty misdemeanors too much to ask for?”

Steve didn’t respond except for a small shake of his head. He looked tired.

Theo approached, carrying multiple rolls of police tape. “Casualty?”

“Yeah, and possible arson, although there’s no evidence on the second one yet. We’re going with Steve’s first impression,” Hugh said, still keeping his voice low so it didn’t carry past their small group.

Swearing under his breath, Theo rubbed his temple and then adjusted his borrowed fire helmet. Kit noted that he looked exhausted and grim, but not surprised. Her first-day nerves fired up again, but this time, she wasn’t worried about whether she’d fit in or if her boss would be difficult. Her new town was a devastated wreck and a possible murder-slash-arson happened within the first hour of her first day.

She was beginning to wonder if she’d survive this new job.