Chapter 3

THREE

F ire Captain Julio Espinoza-Vasquez tipped his coffee cup toward himself and saw just a ring of dry coffee at the bottom of the mug. He straightened it and looked at the clock. After six in the evening—just over halfway through his twenty-four-hour shift. It had been a long day.

No way there would be good coffee in the firehouse kitchen this time of evening. He'd have to boil water in the kitchen kettle and make French press in the tiny bunk room he called an office that was only two feet longer than his lieutenant's office.

Down the long conference table in the kitchen, two of the shift firefighters were playing chess. At the other end, an older firefighter who'd been here longer than Julio read a battered sci-fi paperback.

Julio locked the iPad and set it on the table, reaching up with both arms and stretching.

"Hard day?" The old timer didn't even look up from his paperback.

"I was reading the file from that callout last week, the little girl?"

The paperback lowered. "Yeah?" The guy's mustache shifted.

"Arson found the accelerant, but it might be tough to locate the customer who purchased it."

One of the guys playing chess lifted his chin from his hand and glanced over. "Did they tie it to the Wilson Street fire?"

"Not explicitly."

"Because it isn't connected." The guy's brow rose. "Or because no one wants to use the words serial arsonist ?"

Julio's phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it, about to continue the conversation when one of the younger firefighters on shift strode in and said, "Cap, the chief wants to see you."

Julio pushed his chair back and took the iPad with him to set his bowl in the sink. The rookies were on KP duty tonight, and they'd be responsible for all the cleanup in the kitchen after their spaghetti dinner.

He didn't get those duties anymore. He'd been on rotation for bathrooms and the kitchen for years. These days he had to write the schedule and file reports. He also had to call firefighters into his office if they needed to shape up. Or give them praise for a job well done. All part of ranking up in any organization, becoming a manager.

But he still missed the day-to-day of riding truck.

Julio strode right through the open door into Chief Greyson Frayer's office. "Chief." He looked around. "You ever miss cleaning toilets?"

Greyson barked a laugh. The skin on his hands, below the sleeves of his shirt, and above the collar, showed the telltale burns of someone who'd battled a fire. He might've lost a lot—but he hadn't lost everything.

Julio wasn't sure he could continue being a firefighter, even in the chief's chair, after getting burned the way Greyson had. But the guy was a hero, and firefighting was in his blood.

"Can't say I do." Greyson had gray hair on his temples, but the fact he'd fallen in love a few months ago and was about to get married in a matter of weeks meant these days he looked younger than he had in years.

Julio would be surprised if he didn't look ancient. He certainly felt it, settling into the chair across from Greyson's dark wood desk. Used to be the desk didn't have anything on it but work stuff, the photos of his mom and his late father, and pictures of his sister's family were on the shelves in the corner. Now there was a fake plant in the corner of the office, Greyson had a new thermal mug, and the photo facing him that Julio couldn't see was likely a copy of their engagement picture.

"You saw the arson report?"

Julio nodded.

"They officially tied it to the other two fires. Though, you didn't hear that from me. At least, not on the record."

"Got it, Chief."

Greyson wiggled his mouse. "Commander Herrington wants every chief in the city to report in immediately when we come across a fire that might be arson. Especially ones where it appears to have been altered in some way to make the fire more catastrophic."

"So it's for sure, then." Julio shifted on the chair. "Someone is setting fires and making sure there's maximum damage."

"Not only that. They're ensuring that lives are lost."

"I thought there weren't any casualties in the first two fires?"

Greyson winced. "It wasn't released with the rest of the information. Arson Investigation is keeping things close to the vest, but a body was discovered at the second fire. An older woman. They believe the first was a test. His attempt to perfect the scene and get it right. No one died."

"But someone was in the second. It was an abandoned house, right?"

"A foreclosure, that's correct." Greyson nodded. "Until we cleared the scene a couple of days later, we didn't realize there was a body in the basement. Back corner, in a closet."

"Could've been there before the fire."

"Not according to the autopsy," Greyson said. "The victim died in the fire."

Julio blew out a breath. "I wasn't on shift when it happened, but I heard about it after. Still, Arson is keeping all this under a tight lid. Is that a good idea?"

"I know." Greyson nodded. "Secrets don't do anyone any good, especially considering everything that happened with your predecessor."

The captain before Julio had been stripped of his rank and fired for having an affair with a female under his command, and for harassing other female firefighters. He'd also taken a harsher approach with rookies, especially the females.

"The higher the quality of our firefighters," Julio said, "the better the whole department is. But that doesn't mean we degrade them until they meet the standard." He leaned forward on the chair and put his elbows on his knees. "It also doesn't mean we get integrity through transparency by keeping secrets from the public."

"You want a panic in the city?" Greyson paused. "What happened years ago was a mess. Hard to believe the impact is still being felt, but it was a different department back then. We are who we are now."

"We need to trust people. Tell them the truth."

Greyson stared at him. "Commander Herrington advised me to state clearly that if the media obtains any information about these fires, or the person who might be setting them, and the leak is traced back to a firefighter, that person will be fired."

Julio pressed his lips together.

"So how are we going to get the word out without anyone tracing it back to us?"

He blinked. "Um…Chief?"

"We can't keep people in the dark." Greyson leaned forward. "You know that, and I know that. But we need to play this smart. Feed someone enough information the media connects the dots and it can't be traced back to us."

"I'll take another look at the files. See what I can think of."

"Good." Greyson pushed his chair back. "I'm heading out."

"Ashlynn busy tonight?"

The chief's expression softened. "The PD commissioner has an event, and she's on hand for that. Something with Vanguard Investigations, I believe. A fundraiser. I'm headed to my house to finish painting the dining room so I can get ready to sell it." He grabbed a backpack from the floor beside him and stood, setting the bag on the chair.

"Have a good night."

Greyson nodded. "Be safe."

Julio jogged down the stairs and wandered the halls back to the residence half of the firehouse, from the half where two stories of offices housed staff who worked normal nine-to-fives. He preferred to be closer to the engine bay even if he drove a red truck with the department emblem on it, only going to scenes as the commander.

His phone buzzed again, and he tugged it out.

From his mom and dad, in a thread with them both even though his dad didn't text much—the old man preferred the face-to-face of a video call. She'd sent a photo of their latest bowling scores. Julio grinned. She'd improved. He texted back,

I need to go again soon. See if I can beat your high score.

He added a couple of emojis and sent it. A few seconds later he got a couple back, then a firetruck and a firefighter guy along with the words,

Be safe.

Overhead, the dispatch alarm sounded. Ringing through the halls. "Truck eight. Ladder seven. Warehouse fire. Multiple victims trapped."

A rush of feet came almost immediately, everyone heading to the engine bays. Julio tugged the turnout pants from the slender closet in his bunk room, then pulled on the same turnout coat he'd worn for years. The name CODA on the back had been a decision the brass made when they discovered the double-barrel last name wasn't going to fit on the jacket. He wasn't going to choose which of his parents to honor, so in his own way he honored them both.

And the nickname stuck, as if it was a regular nickname and not a lot more.

He jogged out the double doors to the empty engine bay, now an expanse of gleaming floor and rows of shoes on either side of where the trucks would've been parked. A swivel chair in the corner, close to the pool table, still rotated.

He strode to his captain truck. The drive to the scene in the wake of two speeding red trucks with lights and sirens going was quick, and he pulled up down the street. The trucks had offloaded personnel and were already rolling out hoses to spray down the flames lighting up the building from inside. Black smoke poured out into the sky.

This end of town, the business was manufacturing, but he had to get on the phone with dispatch to find out who leased the unit. With his clipboard and pen, and the information scribbled in the corner, Julio slapped on his helmet and went to the center of the chaos.

He dialed up his radio and listened to the back and forth between his lieutenants and their people. In a brief break in the conversation, he said, "This is Captain Coda. Situation report."

The ladder lieutenant stood at the bottom of the unit on top of his truck. He grasped the radio on his jacket and replied, "Two pairs on a search of the east side, two outside ascending to the second floor now. We've got people trapped on this side of the building."

They must've seen them in the window and decided to get up there from the outside. Meanwhile, their colleagues did a room by room search of the same part of the building from the inside.

Julio wanted to say a prayer for them, but the most feeling he nursed for God these days was a whole lot of anger. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away was certainly true. But he couldn't finish the expression. Not with the way he raged inside.

"Copy that," Julio said. "Truck report."

Static crackle greeted him.

Julio scanned the building. Flames licked out of broken windows up into the evening sky. Not yet dark, he could see the color of the smoke. "Not good." He lifted his radio. "All positions, evac now. I repeat, evac now. This thing is turning deadly."

Two firefighters fled out the front doors, followed by a third.

"Out!" Julio yelled into the radio. "Everyone out!"

The ladder guys paused. Someone screamed from inside the window.

A second later an explosion from deep inside the building rocked the structure.

And then it started to collapse in on itself.