Page 57 of Her Only Hero

“Who’s Matt?” I said, widening my eyes to see in the dark.

“He’s a buddy from the station, calling to give a heads-up.”

“This late? That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not. The house on Landry is on fire.”

“The crime scene?” I uttered, stunned. “Is it arson?”

“I’d say that’s a definite possibility.” He turned on the night table lamp.

“We’re involved in something big, aren’t we?”

“We’ll have to find out exactly what that is,” he said and stood to get dressed. “I’m going to check out the scene. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Oh no you don’t.” I jumped out of bed. “I’m coming, too!”

****

The flashing lights of the fire trucks and police cars served as disorientating beacons of disaster. I tried to avert my eyes from the strobes of light that were making me nauseated. Or maybe it was the stress of the situation. Patrick and I parked on the fringe of all the activity and got out of the car. Smoke and acrid stenches thickened the night air. Part of the roof had collapsed, and the firefighters continued to drench the house even though flames weren’t visible.

I forced a swallow.

“Are you okay?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah, I’m just not used to being so close to something like this.”

“How about we go for a walk? Want to check the periphery? Sometimes arsonists like to watch their handiwork,” Patrick said.

“So sick,” I said. We walked up the street, checking to see if any person was sitting in a parked car, or if anyone was hiding behind bushes or shrubs. I pulled out my phone and hit the video record button as we paced the area.

Patrick smiled. “Very resourceful.”

“For an amateur.” The neighboring houses stood in darkness. There was no movement in or around cars, foliage, or trees, but I kept recording anyway. A few neighbors in pajamas stood on their front lawn, watching the commotion. A hunched woman held a hand to her face.

After a walk up and down the street, we returned to Patrick’s vehicle.

“I saw nothing out of the ordinary, did you?” Patrick said.

I shook my head. “No.”

“How is your recording?”

I hit play on my phone. “It’s dark. And pixilated.”

Patrick leaned over my shoulder and watched. “Nothing is really discernible.”

“I should have turned on the torchlight. Oh, well.” I slipped the phone into my handbag.

“Video surveillance was a great idea, June. Now, how about we try to have a word with the captain?”

We advanced toward the bustling scene and found a firefighter beside a rumbling firetruck. He clutched a two-way radio close to his mouth. “Is the house negative for occupancy?”

“Yes, negative, Chief,” a crackled voice said. “The fire is controlled. We’re just wetting down hot spots.”

“Great news, Meyer. We’ll initiate salvage operations in the morning.” The captain turned toward us.

“Hello, Captain?” Patrick said.

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