Page 1 of Backdraft
Chapter One
Did I have to prove myself again? Prove that as the new fire investigator for the regional fire marshal's office, I had the chops? After seven years, I should expect it. A woman treading into what was solely a man's world, especially new to the region, required paying some dues.
I get it.
But it would be nice if the confrontations could wait until after the scene is cleared? All I wanted to do right now was my job.
I inched forward, my helmet light piercing through the gloom of ash and smoke. This was a fatal fire, and we had to recover the victims, a mom and her kids.
My breath whooshed inside the Versa flow PPE helmet. I looked around, making sure I wasn't straying off the safe path through the gutted house. Hot spots still flared up in the walls. I'd given orders to the truck crews to keep on top of them. Every now and then, water came through the burnt-out walls like a waterfall. I was used to it, but the forensic officer just behind me wasn't. He kept shouting to turn around. I indicated it was okay, to stay on task and follow me.
We were on the second floor of an older home and had to be laddered up for a window entry. Part of the floor on the left side of the house was gone and had taken the stairs with it.
When kids were involved, everyone was tense, on edge, and desperate to locate the victims. I was too, but it was important to keep the team calm and go by the book.
Only this wasn't a rescue. It was a recovery.
I inched forward. Casting my flashlight about, looking for any indication of a body. I went deeper into the house, carefully avoiding a hole in the floor. The tension coming off the forensic officer was tangible. It irritated me, and I grit my teeth.
I heard a scratching, and I stopped, shining the flashlight around to see what could be making the noise. But there was nothing.
A tap on my shoulder startled me, but I forced myself to keep my reaction as minimal as possible. I refused to show any sign of weakness and faced the forensic officer with a blank expression.
"What's up?" I looked into his eyes. I didn't know his name yet. I assumed he’d also heard the noise.
"It's nothing." I shook my head.
"But I hear something," he yelled. There was really no need to yell, and it was further indication of his state of mind.
I patted him on the shoulder. "If you can't be in here without freaking out, then leave. I've got to find these bodies."
It was as if saying “bodies” snapped sense into him. He nodded, and his flashlight shimmered through the haze.
"Stay with me!" I called to him. It wouldn't do for him to get lost in the house. I had the floorplan imprinted in my brain. I knew where we could step, and where we couldn't. I knew which bedroom was where, and who was supposed to be in each room.
I heard scratching again. There was something in the walls. Maybe a rat trying to get out, or a bird. I couldn't get sentimental over an animal that could be harmed by the fire. I didn't like animals being hurt, but right now, we had to focus on the occupants of the house.
Something caught my eye through the doorway as some of the smoke cleared. Then it was gone as another wave of smoke and water rained down on us.
"Hey," I yelled, and the officer looked up from sifting through a pile of charred furniture that was still smoldering.
I pointed. He nodded. "Through there."
We inched our way forward. The scratching continued behind us, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Stop it. Don't let your mind run away with you. This isn't your first time.
Something caught my eye, and the beam of my torchlight illuminated a pale object protruding from the ash and debris.
I knew what it was before I got close enough to confirm.
I put out my right hand to stop him. Our eyes met, and I knew by the expression on his face that he saw what I had. He glanced to the ground, his mouth moving as if he was saying something. Perhaps a prayer?
I stepped around a broken and burned door into the charred hall. I kneeled, careful not to disturb anything, and rested for the briefest moment, looking down at the small skeletal hand that reached out of a pile of burnt-up fabric.
We'd found the toddler.
I pulled the radio from my pocket, spoke into the mic to advise the team of our discovery. I took photos to document the find before marking the location and moving on down the hall.
