Chapter Three – Lucy

 

“Hi Lucy,” Amber said on the other end of the line, her voice raspy and weak. “Just calling to check in and see how you’re doing. My mom told me about what happened with Mr. Cassidy, and I know you two were close…”

I’d just gotten back into the office for the evening so I could answer my emails and head home, when Amber had called. I’d have left for the night already, but I didn’t know what I was going to do at home, anyways.

Sleep? Fat chance. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Cassidy’s bug-eyed face, saw his crimson skin, the fear. Felt the heat, could smell him in my nose. All I could think to do was to keep my eyes focused on the prize, like Cassidy had always said to do. Go back to the evidence, look through it again, see if something clicked. Remove parts, focus on just one single item, shift things around so you could look at it new and fresh.

So, I’d sat there, staring at the files in front of me on my cubicle’s desk, surrounded by three partitions and a solid wall. But, hey, at least I got a window. What did it matter if all it looked down on was the nearly empty parking lot adjacent to our building? It was better than no window, right?

But then, Amber had called. And I began to remember, just for a moment at least, why I’d gotten into this job.

“Calling to see how I’m doing?” I asked, laughing a little despite the subject of the call, and everything else going on in my life. I glanced at my work computer’s monitor, at the screen full of unanswered emails. I turned around in my chair and crossed one leg over the other, leaning back as I kept the phone tightly pressed against my ear. All around me, the office was nearly silent. Deserted, with most of my coworkers having disappeared for the night to be with their loved ones. “Shouldn’t you be a little bit more worried about yourself?”

Cassidy and I had saved Amber Vargas’s life nearly three years before. A big fire had ripped through a Christmas tree lighting ceremony in downtown Shamrock, and Cassidy and I had snatched her from the flames, made sure she got out in one piece. Sure, we couldn’t manage to get her out completely unharmed, but her burn hadn’t been too bad.

Certainly not as bad as the others. Even Cassidy had gotten it worse than she had, where a piece of his bunker gear had opened up and exposed him to the flames.

We’d lost a lot of townspeople that day, despite the best efforts of Shamrock FD. Cassidy had been concerned about me, about how I was handling the loss of life on my watch. Soon after, he’d suggested the switch to fire investigation.

But, even after the switching of departments, Amber had stayed in touch with me and Cassidy. Sent us birthday cards and Christmas cards, just like clockwork. Phone calls every month or so, just to check on us and chat.

Amber coughed on her end, the hospital phone line crackling and making her sound even more distant than she actually was. “Doctors say I’m doing fine,” she rasped back, and I could almost hear the forced smile in her voice. “Treatments are working just like they’re supposed to, side effects and all.”

Amber was a good kid. Always optimistic, despite getting diagnosed with cancer at just the tender age of twenty. Even when she was lying.

I’d talked to her mother just a few weeks before about the prognosis on her cancer diagnosis. Even after a year of being in and out of the hospital, of aggressive medical procedures and treatments, her body was still tearing itself apart. The tumors growing and multiplying, riddling her insides.

She didn’t have much longer. Just a few months, at best.

The only thing worse than cancer? Cancer in someone that had their full life ahead of them.

“Yeah?” I asked, smiling a little at her words. “Side effects, huh?”

“Oh, just no sense of smell, hair loss, that kind of thing. Good thing I’ve got a nice-shaped head, right?” she replied with a giggle.

I chuckled right alongside her. “Well, maybe we can take you wig shopping soon?”

“Yeah,” she said with another cough, “of course. If they let me out of here for the day, that is.”

“So what’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just worried about you. You saved my life, after all. Figured I should at least try and return the favor.”

I smiled a little, sniffled. “Well, I’m doing fine, kiddo.”

We both stayed silent for a moment, not sure what to say to each other for a long moment. Finally, Amber spoke up. “Lucy, do you think Cassidy is in a better place?”

“Like heaven?”

“Yeah, like heaven. Angels belong in heaven, right?”

I sighed and ran my fingers back through my hair as I turned around and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my desk. Amber always called me and Cassidy her guardian angels. The people who were responsible for saving her life, who had been there when she needed us most. Not that it had done any good, of course, not in the long run.

But, what do you tell a young woman who’s dying of cancer? Who doesn’t have more than a few months to live? Whose entire life is about to be cut short by Fate’s giant clippers snipping her thread of life?

That you don’t believe in heaven? That you don’t believe in angels?

I couldn’t do that. I’m not a monster.

“Well, hon,” I replied after a moment, “if there’s a better place than here, Cassidy’s going to it. I promise.”

“Good,” she said in that raspy whisper of hers. “That’s what I thought. I just wanted to make sure.”

I went to say something, but instead just tightly closed my eyes and shook my head as my boss yelled for me from his office.

“Skinner! Get your ass in here!”

I sighed.

“That your boss?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, he sounds chipper,” Amber said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and weariness.

“You get that too, right?” I asked with a laugh.

“Better let you go, huh?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “I’ll talk to you soon, sweetie. All right?”

“Yeah, Lucy. Soon.”

I hung up my cell and pushed back from my desk, the rolling of the wheels over the thin office carpet booming in the near silence. “What’s up, Bunk?” I called as I headed down the short hall to his office.

“Now, Skinner!”

I rounded the corner, stuck my head inside the door. “Yeah, boss?”

Franklin Bunk sat peering at his computer through coke-bottle thick glasses, his gnarled hands typing away on the keyboard in front of him. In his late forties, my boss was a waif of a man, all sharp edges and gnarled ends. The kind of guy that looked like he might blow away in a strong wind, at first glance. But then, on the second one, you saw the corded muscles in his arms, and realized he was going to fight that damn hurricane till his dying breath.

“Sit down, Skinner,” he said, without even taking his eyes off the computer screen.

I took a seat in one of the extra chairs near the door, waiting for him to finish what he was doing and speak first.

“Where are we at on Cassidy and the other three? We find the source of whatever sparked these gas leaks?”

I almost had to physically bite my tongue to keep from snapping my response. Instead, I sharply inhaled through my nose. “Gas leaks, sir?”

He swiveled in his chair, fixing me with that implacable gaze of his. “Yes,” he said, as if his tone was trying to tell me exactly how it was going to be from now on. “Gas leaks.”

“Well, sir, we still haven’t completely ruled out all other possibilities on the accelerant. The gas leak assumption is something I’m looking at, but I’m not sold on it.”

He sighed and leaned forward. “Listen, Skinner, okay? We’ve found zero evidence, absolute zero, nada, zilch, of any kind of liquid accelerant in any of these four cases. And, if we’ve ruled out liquid, we need to start looking at vapor.”

“Well, sir, I know it wasn’t liquid. But I still haven’t seen any evidence that it was vapor. That’s my point.”

Eyes still locked on me, he blinked a few times in confusion. “Okay,” he said slowly. “If it’s not liquid, and it ain’t vapor, what the hell is it?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head the whole time, he eased back into his chair, adjusting himself in the seat as he tried to get more comfortable. “Okay, Skinner, okay. What do you want from me here? You want me to order you to put it in your report that it was from an as-yet-to-be-located gas leak? Is that it? This some kind of bullshit power play thing?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do at all, Bunk, I’m just trying to do the same as everybody else, and figure out what the hell happened.”

He ran a hand down his face, tugged at his cheeks. “Okay, okay. So, no evidence of liquid accelerant. No evidence of vapor, either.”

“Not yet, sir, no.”

“Okay, at least you’re giving me a ‘not yet’. That’s a start, I guess. How about source of the spark? The source of ignition? You said in your report Chief Cassidy just went up, right?”

“That’s right.”

I could tell from the look in his eyes that the wheels were starting to turn. “What about his cigars? He wasn’t smoking one then, was he?”

“Right then?” I asked. “No. He wasn’t an idiot, boss.”

“But you could smell it on him, right? Cassidy and his cigars, always knew those were gonna kill him, just not like this.”

“You think he somehow set himself on fire?” I sighed, shook my head. “Come on, Bunk, you knew the chief as long as me, if not longer. He always smelled like cigar smoke.”

“But, if he’d been smoking one earlier, couldn’t he have conceivably had a spark still somewhere on his clothes? You’re the one who said he smelled like smoke.”

“No, I said he always smelled like smoke. You’re the one who’s suggesting he was incompetent.”

Bunk shifted forward in his chair, the irritation in his body language matching the tone of his voice. “No, I’m the one who’s trying to find some goddamn answers here, Skinner. You’re the one who’s not being satisfied with any of the perfectly logical suggestions I’m putting out there for you to pursue.”

“Dammit, Bunk, that’s not what I’m doing!”

“No? If it isn’t, why the hell haven’t you come up with something yet? Anything? This ain’t goddamned rocket science, Skinner. This is fire! You have liquid combustion, and you got vapors. You got ignition sources. That’s it! Not this phantom spontaneous human combustion shit you’re peddling!”

“You think that’s what I’m trying to do here? Peddle something?”

“No, I don’t think that’s what you’re doing! Because if I did, that might mean I have some kinda fucking clue about what you’re trying, here!”

Both of us were on our feet by now, me with my back figuratively and nearly literally against the wall, and he with his fists planted firmly on the desk as he leaned across at me.

“Dammit, Bunk, it just doesn’t make any sense! There wouldn’t have been any gas where Cassidy went up! And you know damn well he never would have gone to a scene with a lit cigar! And I’m not going to ruin that man’s good memory by making him look like a fool in my report! Cassidy was a goddamned hero, and saved more lives than any firefighter I’ve ever known!”

I was nearly shaking, with my fists clenched at my sides and every muscle in my body tensed as if I was in a fight for my life. I just couldn’t understand why he didn’t believe me.

Bunk looked at me hard for a long minute, neither of us speaking or even daring to breathe. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

I realized then that I was crying. Not out of sadness, but just from the emotion of the whole thing, and only just a little at the corners of my eyes. Of the anger at being questioned, of Cassidy being gone. I looked away, suddenly unable to face my boss. Jesus, this had gotten to me worse than I’d thought. Of course, it wasn’t every day your mentor spontaneously combusted in your arms, or that you got a call from a girl he’d rescued that was now dying of cancer.

“Look,” I said after a moment of collecting myself. “I know there’s an answer to what happened to Cassidy. To what happened to those people. I just need more time. I can figure it out, I promise.”

Bunk sighed and sat back down in his chair. “I’d love to give you more time, Skinner, but that’s what I got the least of. The commissioner’s office, the police department, the mayor’s office, they’re all looking for answers here, same as the rest of us. But I’m the only one they’re looking to, not you.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“Cassidy was a buddy of mine. He and I were in the same firehouse for years, played poker together, watched every goddamn game the Bears or Cubbies ever played. I know he was a damn good firefighter, and I wasn’t trying to smear his name or anything. He was one of our own, and I don’t want anything attached to his name that doesn’t deserve to be there, either.” He paused, took a deep breath. “So, tell you what?”

I turned back to him, silent. But, even though my mouth was shut, my heart was jumping for joy.

Was he going to do it? Was he going to give me the time I needed?

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to figure out what the hell’s going on, starting tomorrow morning. Go back to the other scenes, look over everything again. Start from the beginning. You come to me with an explanation, and it’s reasonable, I’ll back you completely on it. Got it?”

I nodded, saying, “Yeah, Bunk, yeah. Absolutely, twenty-four hours. If that’s all I can get, I’ll have to work with it. Right?”

“You better be able to,” he said, turning back to his computer screen. “Because that’s all you’re getting. Now go home and get some rest. Clock starts tomorrow.”

I gritted my teeth, nodding. “Right. Tomorrow.” I got up from my seat and nearly stomped back to my desk.

Twenty-four hours. I hadn’t been able to crack this damn thing in nearly three weeks. What made him think twenty-four hours was enough? That was just a day!

I looked up at the cork board on the wall, at the pictures of all the different victims.

Marissa Hawkins. Young woman, about my age, was the first victim. Went out for something at a local gas station, burst into flames while at the cooler. Bunk thought there was possibly a spark from the refrigeration unit that had somehow miraculously done it.

Kent Marten. Middle-aged, fit. Ran two miles every morning, according to his wife. Or, widow, I guess. Went into the juice bar for his smoothie on the way to work, burst into flames just as he was coming out of the bathroom. Bunk was speechless on that one.

Sandy Jenkins. John’s Grocery’s produce department. Fifteen witnesses, no sign of immediate ignition source. Though, she was a smoker, so Bunk was pushing that theory pretty hard.

And, finally, Dan Cassidy. Fire Chief. Mentor. Practically my uncle. More importantly, though, still one of my closest friends.

I’d gleaned most of my pictures from driver’s license photos, others from family members. Cassidy’s, though, had come from home.

The picture of Marissa Hawkins, for whatever reason, was the one that struck me the hardest. Something about her being with her husband, sitting on a couch together at some holiday party. Both of them wearing ugly Christmas sweaters, grinning from one ear to the other, clearly in love. It just stabbed me right in the heart. Not just because I didn’t have something like that, but because what they had was rare, period.

And now, it was gone. Sure, her husband would still have the memories of their love. But she was gone. I didn’t know if I really believed in heaven or not, but cases like Marissa’s really made me wish I did. That she was actually up there, waiting for her husband. That all these people were up there, somewhere, just waiting. Watching over us all.

I sighed, looking down at the pile of files on my desk. All four incidents compiled together, as neatly organized as they were going to get. My notes, Bunk’s notes, statements from the firefighters on the scene, and statements from the witnesses. All the info we had on them.

Frowning, I turned back to the cork board, and began to pull out the pushpins holding up each picture.

I figured, even if I was going home for the night, that didn’t mean I had to devote the entire evening to relaxation. Or the morning. I could maybe have a glass of wine tonight, go over my notes again.

As I was finishing up organizing the file, Bunk coughed loudly behind me. “Thought I told you to get out of here. Take the night off.”

I didn’t look back at him, just stuffed the files away in my briefcase. “I am, Bunk, I am. Just getting my files together, that’s all. Figure I’ll look ’em over while I’m eating my breakfast, drinking my coffee.”

He glanced down at the briefcase on my desk and frowned almost imperceptibly. “Well, all right. Wanna walk down together?”

“Sure,” I said, grabbing my coat from the hanger on my cubicle’s partition wall. I slipped it on and grabbed both my purse and briefcase, following after him.

Together, we headed out of the dark office, barely saying a word. Bunk pressed the elevator’s down button, then held the door open for me so I could step inside ahead of him.

As we rode down, the elevator doing its hum as it slowly lowered us back to the earth’s surface, Bunk cleared his throat. “Hey, Lucy,” he said, more quietly than I’d ever heard him speak.

“Yeah, boss?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss. With Chief Cassidy, I mean. I worked with the guy for a long time, and I considered him a friend. But I know he was like family to you. More even than working in the same firehouse, like I did. He was like your father’s brother, and I know he meant the world to you.”

I went to reply, to tell him I appreciated him, and his sentiment. But that the real way to say “sorry for your loss” would be to give me more than just twenty-four hours to work with.

But I didn’t.

Because the look on his face was almost more than I could handle. For the first time, his features looked like they’d softened a little. Like it had taken less than a hurricane to make him back down. Or, at the very least, feel something.

So, instead of getting pissed at him, I accepted his words for what they were. An admission of feeling, of sympathy, and of condolence. “Thanks, boss,” I mumbled as the elevator doors opened on the shabby downstairs lobby.

He just nodded without saying another word, and together we headed out to the parking lot.

As late as it was, the sun had already been down for more than just a few hours, and the parking lot lights were on over the nearly empty lot. Just three cars. Bunk’s, mine, and a silver Honda parked on the same back row as mine.

“Sure you don’t want me to walk you to your car or something?” my boss asked as he went around to the driver’s side and jingled his keys in his pocket. Bunk was parked nearer to the door since, as a supervisor, he actually got a reserved spot.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Suit yourself,” Bunk said. “Just be careful, okay? Still need you to close this case down, and everything.”

“Ha! Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

I walked across the lot, my more sensible flats crunching on the gravel of the parking lot. I climbed into my Chevy Cavalier, tossed my briefcase on the passenger seat, and started the car up. As I sat there, letting it warm up a little, my mind circled back around to the conversation I’d had just a few minutes ago with Bunk.

I still couldn’t believe he’d wanted me to rush the investigation that way.

I sighed deeply, nearly pounding my head on the car horn embedded in my steering wheel. I mean, I understood his wanting me to find a conclusion to the case. I got that. But, to imply that I needed to somehow come up with evidence that didn’t fit? Just so I could close it, and he could get the mayor’s people out of his hair?

My follow-up sigh turned into a groan.

But, what else could I do? I reached up, rubbed my eyes. He was right, though—I did need to rest.

Even if it was me resting in an empty apartment. One part of me was still kicking myself that I’d skipped out early on my blind date from the other night. The other was just happy I’d been able to see Cassidy one last time.

God, I was rambling in my head. Maybe a fresh mind really was a better way to look at this? Maybe, somehow, I’d find some clarity by coming at this after a good night’s sleep?

It was doubtful, of course. But a girl could always hope.

With a twist of my keys, I started up my car, put it in drive, and pulled out of the lot.

I was so focused on my drive home, and the conflicting thoughts and ideas about Cassidy, boyfriends, and the case circling in my mind, that I never even noticed the silver Honda pulling out behind me.