Page 47 of Fragile Sanctuary

My brain kicked into focus, that speed-reading class I’d taken as part of my training coming in handy. People didn’t think about the amount of research in profiling. Reading crime scene reports and case files, not to mention shrink records. It wasn’t always chasing bad guys in dark alleys. In fact, it rarely was. Because the bad guys were often the people you least expected.

A few sentences stood out in my perusal.

Thirteen-year-old daughter in critical condition.

Fire started by faulty wiring.

Victims killed by smoke inhalation.

There were small mercies in the fact that none of them had been burned alive. Everything about it seemed fairly typical. Accidentshappened. But something didn’t sit right with me. Why hadn’t a smoke detector woken them in time? At least enough time for the parents to get a call out.

That prickle of warning scratched at the back of my skull. I opened a different browser window and typed in a new search.Fire, Sparrow Falls, Oregon.

Countless results popped up. I narrowed them to the few years before and after the fire that killed Rho’s family. A bunch of the hits were for a wildfire the year after. I addedwildfireto the negative search terms.

Bingo.

My gaze narrowed on the refreshed results. I clicked on one that caught my eye.

Series of Downtown Dumpster Fires Remains Unsolved

I quickly scanned the article. Half a dozen fires had cropped up over a series of weeks a few months before Rho’s fire. They were always at night, and they’d had no luck in catching the perpetrator.

Security cameras weren’t as prevalent fourteen years ago, especially in small communities like this one. There was no way shops and restaurants would’ve been able to afford them.

I navigated back to the search page, skimming over the results again. My gaze halted on another article from the local paper. My gut churned as I clicked on it.

Fire at Middle School, Prank Suspected

Reading the article as quickly as possible, I gleaned a few important facts. It had started in the girls’ locker room while various sports teams were practicing. It was quickly contained but looked to have been started by fireworks lit in a trash can set on one of the benches.

The prickle of warning turned into an inferno. Something wasn’t right here. What if the fire crew had missed something in Rhodes’ house all those years ago? What if it hadn’t been an accident? What if someone had set that fire?

14

RHODES

I hoistedthe bag of soil out of the Gator and onto the pile for sale. My back, thighs, and arms burned with the strain, but it was a good burn, the kind that reminded you what your body was capable of. And for me, it meant that I was still alive to feel the strain.

I lost myself in the repetition of it all. The back and forth, up and down. But a single face played in my mind as I did. The dark blond hair, the thick scruff. Those haunting blue-gray eyes. And I heard Anson’s words over and over in my head.“Reminds me of what I lost.”

A sharp ache carved itself into my chest. I was familiar with the sensation. It created a hole so deep nothing could ever fill it. You just walked around the world with this gaping wound that left you with a permanent grasping sensation at your very core. Because you were missing something fundamental to who you were.

What was Anson missing?

Some variation of the question had been playing in my mind since yesterday. When I left for work this morning,I’d seen the king of anti-color’s black truck, but no sign of the man. Sometimes, I thought he was part ghost. Or maybe he was just an expert at avoiding me.

Because we’d had a…moment. And I got the sense that Anson didn’t allow himself to have those with anyone. He didn’t even really seem to let his guard down around Shep, and my brother was his best friend. It made me sad for Anson because that had to be one lonely existence.

A beep sounded, bringing me out of my Anson-obsessed thoughts. I looked up to see Thea backing up another Gator stacked high with bags of soil.

“This is the last load,” she called over the sound.

“Thank the plant gods,” I said, raising my hands to the sky.

Thea laughed as she climbed out of the vehicle. “I feel like Duncan might owe us hazard pay for this one.”

“He at least owes us a beer,” I muttered.

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