Page 61 of Fragile Sanctuary

I didn’t say anything as I followed him toward the hulking sheriff and the officers surrounding him. Something about Trace always set me on edge. He had the kind of perceptiveness the Behavioral Analysis Unit was constantly on the lookout for. That meant my guard always had to be up around him.

Trace’s gaze cut to us as we approached, his eyes narrowing as they landed on me. “Anson,” he greeted. But my name somehow managed to be a question at the same time.

“Wanted him to take a look once the fire crew is done,” Shep said.

A muscle along Trace’s jaw fluttered. “He may not be able to. We’re not sure what we’re dealing with yet.”

That prickle at the base of my scalp was back. Our crew wascareful with cleanup, and I’d been the last person in the Victorian last night. I knew nothing had been left behind. And with the electricity to the home still turned off, there was only one likely answer. Arson.

“Come on,” Shep clipped, annoyance lacing his tone.

“This isn’t something to fuck around with,” Trace gritted out. “We move through our official processes.”

Shep opened his mouth to argue, but I held up a hand to stop him. “Let’s just see what the fire chief says. No one’s going near the house until they clear it anyway.”

Shep finally jerked his head in a nod.

Trace looked back at me, his assessing stare asking all the questions I didn’t want it to.

“Colson,” a man who looked to be in his late fifties called as he strode toward our group.

Trace turned to face him. “What’d you find, Chief?”

The older man nodded at a younger guy in full turnout gear at his side. The younger man dipped his head. “No question. It’s arson. The whole east side of the house reeks of gasoline. Trailers lead outside where someone set it.”

Shep let loose a dozen or so curses, but Trace remained completely quiet. The only sign of what he was truly feeling was a spasm in his jaw. Trace’s gaze flicked to the fire chief. “When can I get my team in there to work the scene?”

“As soon as you’d like. It looked worse than it was. It was confined to the room on the northeast corner. There wasn’t a lot for the fire to burn, even with the accelerant,” the chief answered.

Trace jerked his head in a nod, turning to one of his deputies. “I want the county crime scene techs here now.”

The younger guy nodded quickly and pulled out his phone.

“Would you mind if I took a quick look?” I asked. I tried my best to keep my tone casual yet respectful.

The fire chief turned to me, his eyes narrowing. “Who the hell are you?”

Shep stepped in. “Greg Nelson, meet Anson Hunt, my fire-restoration specialist.” He turned to me. “Nelson’s our fire chief.”

He knew I’d put together that much already but made the introductions, nonetheless.

“You won’t be able to do a damned thing until Trace’s boys are done processing the scene,” Nelson clipped.

“And girls,” a female deputy in the circle muttered.

Nelson flicked a look in her direction. “Relax, Beth. I know you’ve got bigger balls than all of them.”

Beth snorted. “And don’t you forget it.”

Trace ignored the back-and-forth between the two, his focus centered on me. “What are you hoping to see?”

I didn’t answer right away. I needed to tread carefully and choose just the right words. Instead, Shep spoke for me. “Anson knows fire. He’s been studying it for years now. He might see something that’s helpful.”

Trace’s gaze had stayed firmly locked on me while his brother spoke. “If you go in, you go with me, and you don’t make a single move without my okay.”

I jerked my head in a nod. “You got PPE gear?”

“In my SUV,” Trace clipped.

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