they’d never consider that to be regulation.
Grabbing clean clothes from his closet, he dressed and shaved. He and his partner would not be allowed on the scene until it was cleared by the Fire Department…and there’ll be no climbing back in bed until tonight. Downstairs, he stalked to the coffee maker and leaned his hip against the counter as the welcome brew dripped into the pot. As it sputtered to completion, he opened the cabinet to grab a travel mug, staring for a few seconds at the collection. There’re more fuckin’ travel mugs than actual cups.
His stomach rumbled and he sighed. Popping a piece of bread into the toaster, he doctored his coffee while waiting. The toast was finished in four bites while standing over the counter. After dusting off the crumbs, he slid on his leather jacket, then grabbed his keys in one hand and the travel mug in the other. Will I ever have a chance to have a cup at home and sit with my feet up? Guess that’s what they call retirement.
Middle of the night darkness had settled over the city, but driving toward the downtown harbor, his way was illuminated by streetlamps and the glow from the insides of modern office buildings. Sitting at a red-light, he glanced up toward one of the glass high-rises, wondering for a moment what it would be like to work in an office— or a fuckin’ cubicle all day. Giving a visible shudder, he flipped the blinker, maneuvering onto an exit ramp.
Leaving the business district behind, he turned toward the desolate warehouse area on the far side of the abandoned train tracks. Now the illumination came from the first responders. Firetrucks’ headlights beamed toward the building, their red flashing lights strobing across the charred remnants of the empty warehouse. Smoke no longer billowed from an active flame but instead drifted upwards as though the fire was in its last death throes.
Eagerness built inside of him as it always did. Anxious to begin the investigation and search for evidence before contamination occurred, he immediately scanned the area. Were you here, you bastard? With his hard hat settled on his head before grabbing his evidence kit, he walked toward the scene, flashing his badge to the police officers that were setting up the perimeter as the firefighters finished moving through what was left of the building. Taking a deep breath, the familiar scent of charred wood and scorched metal filled his nostrils.
Three outside walls were still standing, a testament to the fast response of the firefighters. He recognized the battalion number, knowing that his childhood neighbor, Blayze King, might be there as one of the firefighters. It was too dark to see if Blayze was present or if his own younger brother, Rory, was with him. Doesn’t matter…none of us have time to do more than barely say hello anyway.
Looking up, he watched as his partner appeared from the side of the building. Jonas walked over, skipped the greeting, and declared, “Got a body inside.”
The two men’s eyes held for a moment, then, under his breath, Sean cursed. “Fuckin’ hell.” This group of warehouses sat on the outer edges of the Inner Harbor, one of the areas of Hope City that had undergone the most revitalization. Trendy shops, restaurants, walking trails, and boats for hire, it had become a destination for residents and vacationers. A group of Hope City’s homeless population had settled in the empty warehouses to escape either the heat or cold, depending on the weather.
“It get called in?”
Jonas simply crooked an eyebrow and gave a quick nod. Along with the red flashing lights of the fire trucks and ambulances, now came the fast-approaching blue strobes of more police.
“Widen the perimeter,” he called out to a uniformed policewoman standing nearby. Seeing the Fire Captain by the side of the warehouse, he walked over. “We cleared to go inside?”
“Affirmative. Still checking a few hotspots inside, but it’s clear.”
Offering a chin lift, he and Jonas stepped over the charred threshold after sliding booties over their shoes. The concrete floor and metal structure making up the preponderance of the empty warehouse should never have burned this much or this fast, even if the insides were lined with wood. Good call for this to come into Arson Division. His gaze searched the walls, looking for fire patterns and flame marks, the areas that indicated the highest temperatures had been reached. Talk to me.
A serial arsonist had recently targeted Hope City and the attacks