Page 16 of Penance
“The fire isn’t out of hand yet. That could change with the wind since the ground is so dry, but for now, be on standby while I handle this.”
“You got it, Chief,” Shane Adams, another of the recruits, says, saluting me. Beside him, James Dunlap, one of the older men on the crew, rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward Adams, holding my gaze as if to say, “Recruits. Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them.”
I offer him a noncommittal grunt and turn back around, hopping out of the truck when it comes to a stop.
The men around the fire glance my way as I walk toward them, and a look passes between them that sends apprehension running down my spine. The men’s eyes are glazed over, and their movements are jerky as they stuff something in their pockets.
“Afternoon, gentlemen,” I say, trying to prevent the irritation from bleeding into my voice.
I’ve dealt with these types of men before. Addicts who make stupid choices while high on their choice of drug—whether it be alcohol or pills. I was one of those men. That’s why I know that letting these men see my annoyance will only add to the many ways this situation can go off track.
“What do you need, hot shot?” Zeb’s voice slurs. The other men tilt their heads back and roar with laughter, acting like Zeb’s pun is the funniest thing in the world.
Definitely high.
My attention goes back to the teenagers as I try to gauge if theyare under the influence, too, because if they are, this just became an entirely different kind of call, but as I meet each of their gazes, clear eyes stare back at me. A sigh of relief releases from my chest, relieving a little of the weight that’s been there since we arrived, but something about the look of the teenager standing at the end keeps it from going away completely.
He has shaggy blonde hair, a jawline that’s not yet a man’s, but not a kid’s either, and bright green eyes—clear eyes—but they have enough hatred burning in them to start a wildfire. An inexplicable sadness washes over me as I stare back at him. At one point in my life, I was him, with so much anger that it nearly destroyed me.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” Zeb yells, and reluctantly, my eyes snap to him.
After another quick assessment of the situation, I step forward but keep my hands at my side so as not to provoke a reaction.
“Are you aware we are under a burn ban?” I ask, watching him for the truth. “Can you tell me how this fire started?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugs, flashing the other men a cheesy smile. “We found it.”
“You were just walking along and came upon it?” I ask, skepticism coloring my voice.
“That’s what I said.”
“Well then, you won’t mind if I put it out and investigate how it started will you?”
Out of the corner of my eye, the boys start to squirm, giving them away, but one look from the older men and they freeze.
“Don’t mind at all, but we’ll be heading out while you do. Now that the heroes are here, there ain’t any reason for us to stick around.” Condescension oozes from Zeb, and I press my tongue against the back of my teeth to keep from saying what I want to.
I give myself five seconds before I release my jaw and move on.
“Maybe you should anyway,” I say, keeping my voice even, but there’s also a demand in the words that ratchets the tension crackling through the air. Suddenly, Zeb seems a lot more sober than he did moments before. “You know—just in case I have some questions.”
“Are you trying to detain me, hot shot? Because I’ll tell ya, I know my rights. I reckon you don’t have any authority to do so.”
He’s right. I don’t. Unless I have irrefutable proof that the men started the fire, it is out of my hands. A bigger crime than starting a fire during a burn ban would have to be committed for me to detain anyone, but letting them leave means putting the boys in the position of being in a car with men who are under the influence. Not to mention I saw them hide something when I walked up, and I’d bet my life it has something to do with the fire that is starting to spread through the ditch faster than what’s natural.
“You’re right. I’m not detaining you, but you’re obviously under the influence. I’ve had the police department on standby since the moment I left the station. You can leave, but you’re going to be walking.”
Malice flashes in the older man’s eyes, and, for a second, I’m afraid he will argue. But eventually, he jerks up his chin, spits on the ground between us, and growls at the others to follow him.
They all follow without comment, glaring at me as they walk by.
I don’t back down under their stares, keeping direct eye contact with each of them as they pass. As they walk away, they whisper among themselves.
I watch them for as long as I can, and then I get to work, helping my men put out the fire and starting my investigation.
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Weariness weighs on my shoulders as we drive back to the station. For a small brush fire, it took a lot longer to put out than it should have, and once it was out, we had to stick around to make sure it didn’t start up again. I’d hoped we’d be able to save at least some evidenceof whatever the men had been burning along with the wood, but the fire had been too hot. Nothing was left by the time we got it under control.
