Smoke And Ashes

On the wooden steps that led to the house, there was a pair of discarded women’s flip-flops and beside them was an oily black shoe print. The print had a star pattern at its center and rectangular squares around the sole’s edges. He snapped a picture. It was probably a leftover of someone walking through the oil slick in the garage while they’d made their way inside. He took a swab of the substance and tagged it as evidence to be sent to the crime lab.

The whole downstairs dripped with water and his footsteps sounded like suction cups as he made his way through the kitchen. The small rectangular room was typical of a low-income home, linoleum on the floor, cheap oak cupboards and an apartment-sized refrigerator.

In the living room, there was black, sticky ash on the walls where the smoke had billowed through the house. A thick layer of oily soot covered every surface making it impossible for him to be able to lift fingerprints.

He followed the smoke pattern up the stairs, and the acrid smell grew stronger. In the center of the hallway, between two bedrooms and in front of the burned-out bathroom, was a black circular pattern.

Another V-shaped pattern started at the floor, and at its center was an electrical outlet. He looked up. The light had melted and it pointed like a finger to the blackened circle.

There was no doubt about it, he’d found his ignition point.

He crouched and wafted the air toward him as he took in a long breath of the oily, dirty smoke. It had a faint chemical smell.

Around the edges of the charred circle was a ring of white powder. He took another picture. Opening his bag, he pulled out an evidence can and scooped some of the white residue into it.

This fire was no accident.

An event like this, one started with chemical oxidizers, wasn’t the work of a novice. This was someone who knew the chemicals required to start a fire. Plus they likely knew most chemical reactions took several minutes to ignite—giving them enough time to flee the scene.

If he had to bet, this was a person who would do it again.

According to the notes, Elke had been in her bedroom at the time of the fire. If the perp had wanted to kill her, they would have built a fire that she couldn’t escape, yet they had kept it small, manageable.

He turned to his clipboard and wrote: Suspect may not have meant to kill victim.

He glanced down at his watch. Fifteen minutes before the end of practice. He was never going to make it to the baseball field in time to see Colter.

He put away his clipboard, labeled the evidence and dropped it into his kit.

The burden his job put on him was fine, but bit by bit and day by day, he could see Colter pulling away. It was even evident in the way his son walked, no longer the fumbling steps of a boy, but the saunter of a young man. Every time Kevin had a call lately, he had watched as Colter used this newfound gait to walk as far away as possible. After today and his broken promise, it would only get worse.

Chapter Three (#ulink_50a76a62-8c7d-55f0-9012-d919dc86cf6c)

David stomped into the house and slammed the door, the sound making Heather jump. The sweat on her palms made her hands stick to the edges of the kitchen counter, and they peeled off with a wet sound as she stood up to greet him.

His dark hair was perfectly shaped and his eyes bright, as if he hadn’t had the same trouble she had sleeping last night. The only thing that gave away his anger was the slight tic of his lip, as though he was holding back a snarl.

“Hi, David,” she said, trying to sound cool and indifferent but failing as fear and desperation crept into her voice.

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t think I came home for you.”

“Are you going to come to the barbecue with me?”

“We’ll both be there. I would hardly say we’re going together.”

Heather glanced over her shoulder toward Lindsay, who was sitting on the couch weaving thread around her bracelet.

“You look like crap,” David said as he walked to the fridge and grabbed the unopened bottle of Perrier.

She closed the door to the kitchen. Lindsay didn’t need to hear anything David had to say right now. She would get the wrong idea. David wasn’t a bad man, just stressed. Stress always brought out the worst in people.

“I should’ve known you would go to seed without me around.” He smirked as he looked at her. “I don’t know what you’re going to do without me.”

His words were like a fist slamming into her gut, but she tried to ignore the pain. She needed to fix this and get him back. She couldn’t let herself fall into the same cycle her mother had—a life built around a husband who only came home when it was convenient and who was more than happy to use her love as a tool to manipulate her. She was better than that.

For a moment her mind moved to Kevin—he had never treated Allison the way David treated her. Yet that was in public. Who knows what happened behind closed doors. Perhaps all marriages were the same—one person always bending to the whims of another for the sake of commitment.

“I don’t understand this, David. I don’t even know where this is coming from.”

“Do I have to remind you about Andrew?”

Heather flicked a glance over her shoulder. “Don’t. Lindsay’s here.”

“You afraid she’s going to find out what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t do anything.” The second the words fell from her lips, she wished she hadn’t spoken back. Her insolence would only make things worse, and she needed him back—she needed to hold her family together.

David glowered. “I don’t care what you say anymore. You’re a liar and a cheat.” He slammed the bottle on the granite countertop so hard Heather couldn’t believe the emerald-green glass hadn’t broken.

She slumped onto the stool as tears welled in her eyes.

David pushed back from her in disgust. “Save the waterworks for someone who gives a damn.” He strode out of the room. “Lindsay, when you grow up don’t be like her,” he said as his heavy, angry footfalls thundered through the living room.

Heather moved to follow him, but stopped in the doorway. Lindsay glanced over at her but looked away when she met her gaze.

Heather wiped away her tears. “Don’t worry, Lindsay.” She tried to smile, but the simple action pained her. “David’s just upset.”

Lindsay just nodded.

“Really.” The lie made her voice quake. “Everything will be okay.”

“Okay, Mrs. Sampson.” It was clear from Lindsay’s averted eyes that there was no way to make her feel better or forget what had happened.

“Can you do me a favor, Lindsay?”

She finally looked up. “What?”

“I don’t know what you heard, but can you please not tell your dad anything? I don’t need him to...” She paused. He had so many things in his life that needed his attention. She couldn’t let him sacrifice his time by helping her to deal with the storm in her personal life. No doubt, this storm would pass, just like the others that had preceded it.

“You don’t need him to what?”

“I don’t want him to worry.”

Lindsay shrugged. “Okay, Mrs. Sampson.”

The pipes clanked as David turned on the shower in the master bathroom.

“How’s the bracelet coming along?”