Into the Flames

by Multi-Author

  “Miss Bennet? This isn’t a trial. I’m just trying to determine the origin of the fire.”

  Hilda swallowed hard. “I had a candle lit earlier. I think I might have forgotten to blow it out.”

  His expression didn’t alter. “In which room do you think the candle was located?”

  “The living room. I light one every night. It’s on the mantle. I thought that was a safe spot.”

  “Do you have pets? A cat maybe?”

  She frowned, shaking her head. “Why?”

  “A cat can sometimes knock candles off.” He shrugged. “It happens more than you think.”

  “Oh. No cats. I’ve been thinking about getting a dog though.” She tried a smile, just to see if he would unbend a little.

  Nothing.

  “Have you noticed anybody watching you a little too closely lately? Any windows open that you thought you’d closed, or doors unlocked that you’re sure you’d locked?”

  Alarm sent Hilda’s pulse spiking. She stared at him for a beat, unsure how to respond. “I…um, no. Why do you ask?”

  “Has anybody in the neighborhood mentioned someone hanging around who shouldn’t be?”

  She frowned, “Not that I’m aware of. What’s going on, Dunc…Mr. Yves?”

  Ignoring her question, Duncan nodded. “Thank you.” He lifted his arm, nodding toward the fireman she’d been talking to earlier. “Ashland will take you wherever you want to go. Get some rest and I’ll be in touch later today.”

  She fought disappointment that he wouldn’t be taking her home…or to a hotel. Then she realized her purse was still inside the house. She frowned, panic swirling in her belly. She’d lost everything in the fire. She had no clothes, no money… She glanced toward the charred and smoking remnants of the garage door. Possibly no car. She had only the cell phone she’d grabbed off her nightstand as she’d lunged out of bed in a panic.

  “What is it?”

  His question brought her gaze flying back to him. She shook her head, blinking rapidly to chase back tears. It didn’t work, they slipped past her lashes. “I guess it just hit me.” She shrugged.

  “Do you have someone you can stay with?”

  Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she thought. Her mind was muzzy from the night’s events and she wondered if that was a byproduct of all the smoke she’d inhaled. “My dad’s out of town right now. My brother…” She shook her head. There was no way she was calling Josh. She wasn’t ready for that. Then she remembered Sissy. Her friend would let her stay until she could make some other arrangements. “Yes. I have a friend.”

  His lips twitched, almost a smile. Then she realized why. “I have more than one friend, actually.”

  When the smile finally broke free it caught her up, pulling her into an answering grin. She laughed. “I’m pathetic.”

  Duncan touched her arm, glancing toward Ash. She was sad to see his smile go. “Can you give Ms. Bennet a lift?”

  “Of course.” Ash pointed to a charcoal gray pickup parked across the street. “After you, Ms. Bennet.”

  Chapter Three

  Duncan found George Dobbs, the Battalion Chief for the South Central District of Indianapolis standing next to his truck, a large coffee in one beefy hand. The Chief was talking to a fireman whose name Duncan didn’t know. The guy was young and, if Duncan wasn’t mistaken, new to the ranks.

  Despite the fact that investigators were trained as firefighters before becoming investigators, the two branches of fire services had a relationship built on mutual distrust and the undercurrent of hostility that went with it. Fire Services liked to think they owned a fire site and were often resistant to calling in an investigator because they’d lose control over the site once he arrived. For his part, Duncan had arrested far too many firefighters for starting fires to trust anything they told him.

  And then there was the politics. Which was what he was about to deal with.

  Dobbs turned to Duncan as he approached and said something to the young firefighter, earning Duncan a speculative glance from the younger man before he turned away. Duncan followed the man with his gaze as he headed toward the tanker parked along the curb, lights still spinning through the early dawn darkness. Nostalgia for the time when he rode the trucks as a firefighter tweaked him and then slid quickly away.

  Duncan loved being an investigator. And he believed he was good at it.

  Chief Dobbs extended his hand to Duncan. “Yves. It’s nice to see you again.” The man’s smile was perfunctory and brief, his usual, brusque greeting.

  “Chief.” Duncan clasped the offered hand. “Looks like your men have everything under control.”

  Dobbs nodded. “They’re performing secondary search now. We should have the all clear soon.”

  “Good.” Duncan turned back to the small house, frowning.

  “It sounds like what we have here is an accidental,” Dobbs said.

  Duncan barely repressed a sigh. Dobbs didn’t like the idea of a firebug in his district. He especially didn’t like that Duncan couldn’t find anything conclusive in the way of proof. The Battalion Chief wanted to be Fire Chief some day and was a very political creature. When Duncan didn’t immediately agree, Dobbs moved closer, invading Duncan’s space in a classic attempt to apply pressure. “The homeowner admits she left a candle burning.”

  “She admits she’s worried that she might have,” Duncan replied.

  Dobbs shook his head. “Duncan…”

  Duncan shook his head, lifting his hands. “I know you don’t want to hear it, Chief, but preliminary investigation tells me there’s something a little off on this one.”

  Dobbs expelled a frustrated breath. “You think there’s something off on all of them, Yves.”

  “Not all. But I’ll admit there have been a string of fires over the last several months that have my spidey senses activated.”

  No offense to your spidey senses, son, but do you think it’s possible that you’re letting your past affect your judgment?”

  Duncan’s jaw tightened against an angry response. It wasn’t the first time the accusation had been flung his way. Unfortunately, the implication that he was irreparably scarred, and thus unqualified for the job he held, didn’t get any easier to take with repetition. He glared at Dobbs. “I’m well trained for my job, Chief. If that isn’t enough…”

  “Back down, son. I just feel the need to remind you that an accusation we have a firebug in the city will create no end of problems and scare the crap out of the people of Indianapolis.”

  And make it harder for Chief Dobb’s to make a run at higher office.

  It was on the tip of Duncan’s tongue to tell him that but he gritted his teeth and responded as calmly as he could. “And I feel the need to remind you that I don’t answer to you. The Fire Prevention Bureau isn’t under your purview so you’ll just have to let me do my job and discover what I discover.” He threw a final glare at Dobbs and then started off. “I’ll let you know what I find inside the house.” He stalked away, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from fisting them. He was damn sick and tired of people questioning his abilities and mental state because of something that happened when he was twelve years old. And if he ever got his hands on the clown who released those records to social media…

  A firefighter came out of the house and pulled his helmet off as Duncan approached. He nodded a greeting and stepped aside, not remarking one way or the other about the state of the site. Duncan recognized the silent rebuff. He’d experienced it often since becoming an investigator. It had bothered him at first, but he’d gotten used to it. More or less.

  He entered a good-sized room that he guessed had once been the living room. The walls that remained were fire-pocked and blackened, their surfaces saturated with water. Chunks of ceiling covered the floor and wiring from an overhead light dangled like spider legs from between exposed beams. The floors had been hardwood, most of which had been burned away to leave rand
om hunks of subfloor visible. In the center of the space was a mound of melted fibers that had probably once been a rug.

  On the farthest wall from the front door, centered in the tiny house, was a floor to ceiling stone fireplace, which was charred but still intact. The heavy wood beam that had been the mantle was heavily burned. Judging by the destruction on one end, where a spill of white wax dripped over the remains of the mantle and down the stone of the fireplace, Duncan thought he might have found his origin.

  He moved through the house, searching the least affected part of the building first per standard practice, and worked his way back to the front room.

  Once he determined that, other than smoke and water damage, most of the small house had been unaffected by the fire, Duncan was ready to examine the room he believed was the origin.

  He started by examining the area around the candles. The stone above and behind the melted wax was deeply charred and the end of the mantle where the wax coating was located was nearly burnt away. It certainly looked like the candles had been the start of the fire in that room.

  Duncan stepped back and turned his gaze down. Using a small, powerful flashlight, he crouched down and focused the light onto the heavily damaged floor. It was difficult to find what he was looking for. In fact, after a moment of searching, he was pretty certain he wasn’t going to find it. The realization was both a relief and a disappointment. He had some inkling how Hilda Bennet would take the news that a momentary mistake had nearly destroyed her house.

  Particularly with her history.

  He slid the silver arc of light over the three-foot square of remaining hardwood at the center of the space and his eyes skimmed one last time over the scarred surface.

  Nothing.

  A breeze blew through the room, shoving the mangled drapery that had once covered the broken front window aside. Light from the rising sun pierced the smoky gloom, caressing the floor in front of him in golden light.

  That’s when he finally saw it. A soft, pinkish haze over the hardwood.

  Excitement building, Duncan reached out and lightly skimmed a fingertip over the waxy surface. With a visual starting point at last, Duncan could finally make out the large, loopy shape he was looking for. He focused his camera over the spot and took several pictures, hoping he could highlight what he knew was there enough to make it visible to others. In the meantime, he pulled a bright yellow evidence marker from his belt and placed it at the center of the spot, straightening. He’d examine the rest of the small house carefully, looking for another origin point for the blaze that might dispute his belief the fire had started in the living room.

  He would do his job, thoroughly and painstakingly. But in the end, Duncan was as sure as he could be of two things. One, the fire started in the living room, most likely with the candles on the mantle. And two, Hilda Bennet had nothing to do with it.

  * * *

  A shrill ring tone tore her from sleep. Hilda struggled upright, shoving a swathe of hair out of her face as she tried to crank her eyes open enough to see where her phone had landed. She reached a hand toward where the nightstand should be and encountered open space.

  That was when it hit her. She wasn’t home because she no longer had a home. A quick jolt of depression made her lungs clamp down on the breath she was trying to draw. Panic followed close on its heels. What was she going to do?

  The bed vibrated and she turned to find her phone nestled in the blankets near her hip. She’d apparently fallen asleep with it in her hand. A quick glance at the screen told her she’d missed a text from her brother and that her father was on the line.

  She accepted the call, shoving herself upright and pushing hair out of her eyes. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Are you all right, honey? Adam just called and told me your house burned down?”

  The cool, clipped tone of Doug Bennet’s voice belied the worry his words implied. As always, Hilda tried not to take offense. “I’m fine. My house is still standing. Though I don’t know how much damage there’s been yet.”

  “How did it happen?”

  She noted the careful way he asked the question and her hackles rose. “I’m not sure.”

  Silence pulsed across the line as he seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate. Unfortunately for him, Hilda had no intention of telling him she was worried about having left a candle lit. It was what he expected her to say. It was what he no doubt believed. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re all right, honey. You’ll keep me informed?”

  “Sure. Bye, Dad.” She disconnected, wondering how her boss had found out so quickly about the fire. It must have been on the morning news.”

  Her phone rang again and she glanced at the screen. She didn’t recognize the number of her caller. She almost hit Ignore, but then realized it could be the insurance company returning her call from the wee hours of the morning.

  Hilda stabbed the Answer button. “Hello.” To her chagrin, her voice came out breathless and husky, like a porn star’s voice. She cleared her throat and tried again as silence pulsed through the line. “This is Hilda Bennet.”

  “Hello. Ms. Bennet…it’s Duncan Yves.”

  Any residual grogginess she might have felt slipped quickly away. She struggled to a sitting position and covered the phone as she cleared her throat again.

  “Ms. Bennet?”

  “I’m here. Sorry, I’m just trying to get my bearings. It was a long night.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. It sounds like I woke you up.”

  She glanced at the clock, saw that it was one o’clock in the afternoon. “Oh my god! I can’t believe I slept this long.”

  “It’s not unusual, after a traumatic event like last night’s. I trust you found a place to stay until you can get your house back?”

  “Yes. My friend Sissy’s place. She’s actually in Europe right now. I was supposed to pick up her mail and water her plants anyway. I’m sure she won’t mind if I sleep in her bed too.” She laughed self-consciously, wanting to kick herself for opening her mouth and spewing stupidity.

  The embarrassed silence coming through the line verified that she’d sounded as pathetic as she thought. Hilda closed her eyes, biting her lower lip before trying to move him past the awkward moment. “ Anyway…”

  “I was wondering if we could have lunch.”

  She felt her eyes go wide.

  He hurried on, obviously realizing how his invitation sounded. “I mean, I’d like to ask you some more questions and…well…we both need to eat, right?”

  “I definitely do!” Hilda smacked herself on the forehead. Good god could she be more lame?”

  “Should I pick you up?”

  “No. I have Sissy’s car. I can meet you.”

  “I’ll see you in an hour then? At the house.”

  Hilda blinked. “House? My house?”

  “Yeah. Assuming I have your permission, I’d like to take another walk through in the daylight.”

  She frowned.

  “Ms. Bennet?”

  Hilda realized he was waiting for her to respond. “You need my permission?”

  “Since the first responders are no longer on the scene, I do, yes. It’s an ISO regulation. Your government hard at work.”

  She smiled. “Oh. Then of course you have my permission. I want you to get to the bottom of this as quickly as you can.”

  “Good. Then I’ll see you there in an hour.”

  * * *

  Hilda pulled the bright orange Jeep up behind a black truck she remembered from the night before. She was pretty sure it was Duncan’s truck. Her gaze locked on the charred state of her cute little house and despair turned her to stone. Unable to move, Hilda sat behind the wheel and stared helplessly, tears burning her eyes.

  She suddenly wondered if she should have stayed in bed longer.

  Expelling a long breath, Hilda tried to blink the tears away. Coming there was a
big mistake. It was too soon. .

  A knock on the window made her jump, squealing. She turned to find Duncan standing outside the car, his handsome face looking world serious as always.

  Hilda lowered the window. “Hi.”

  His lips twitched. “Hi. Are you going to get out of the car?”

  She bit her lip, sniffling. “Sorry. It’s just…”

  He reached for the door handle. The battered and rusted door came open with a squeaky groan. He offered her his hand.

  Pulling air deep into her lungs, Hilda took his hand. His fingers felt strong and warm beneath hers and the arm that tugged her gently when she hesitated was muscular and tan, with a sexy sprinkling of light brown hair along its length. She focused on that arm because the idea of looking up into his eyes was suddenly overwhelming.

  The door groaned again as he pushed it closed. “I’m sorry to bring you out here. I know it’s hard. But it’s unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

  She nodded. “I’m being a wimp, I know that. It’s just that, well, this was my first house and I was unreasonably fond of it.”

  “Don’t write the place off just yet. I think you’ll find that the fire only really ravaged the living room and entranceway. And, while there’s smoke and water damage throughout the rest of the house, it can all be repaired.” Duncan placed a warm hand in the center of her back and started walking her across the lawn. The grass was torn and rutted, puddles still dotting its surface, but the afternoon sun shone over the remaining grass and made the flower bed on the corner pop with happy color.

  She stopped as they neared the burned out shell of the front door. “I can’t go in there.”

  He studied her for a long moment and then inclined his head. “Let’s start with lunch and work our way around to the rest.”

  She shook her head, sadness making anger spike. “Unless you have a hoagie in your pocket we won’t be having lunch. I’m sure my kitchen is a mess.”

  “No hoagies in my pocket.”