Page 29 of Flashpoint
"Daniel Marsh," I read aloud. "Former property manager. Fired for gross misconduct after allegedly falsifying inspection reports. He filed a wrongful termination suit that was dismissed three months ago."
"That's a motive."
"And a grudge with eight months to fester." I pull up everything I can find on Daniel Marsh. Forty-two years old. Former property manager. Lost his lawsuit, lost his career, probably lost a lot more than that.
The kind of person who might decide that if hecan't have justice through the system, he'll take it himself.
"I need to find him," I say. "Interview him. See if his alibi holds up for both fires."
"Tonight?"
I check the time. Already past six. "Tomorrow. First thing."
Aiden appears beside me with two mugs of coffee, setting one within reach. "You're close. I can see it."
"Close isn't caught." But I take the coffee gratefully, letting the warmth seep into my hands. "Thanks for coming today. To the interview."
"Thanks for letting me."
I lean back in my chair, looking up at him. He's loosened the strangling business casual—top button undone, sleeves rolled up, looking more like himself. More like the man who cooked me dinner and held my hand under a blanket and made me believe this thing between us could actually work.
"You were right," I admit. "About not handling it alone. It helps. Having you there."
His expression softens. "Yeah?"
"Don't get smug about it."
"Wouldn't dream of it." But he's already smiling as he leans down and kisses me softly, coffeeand warmth and the promise of something I'm still learning to trust.
My phone buzzes on the desk. I ignore it. It buzzes again. And again.
"That's insistent," Aiden murmurs against my lips.
I pull back with a sigh and check the screen. Three missed calls from the fire department dispatch. A text from Captain Vasquez:
Vasquez: Another fire. Industrial district. Same MO.
My blood goes cold.
"What is it?"
"Another one." I'm already grabbing my jacket, the moment of softness evaporating into professional urgency. "Industrial district. Same pattern."
"I'll drive."
We're out the door in thirty seconds, the employee files and coffee mugs abandoned behind us. Somewhere across the city, another building is burning.
Three fires now. The pattern's escalating. Whoever Daniel Marsh is—or whoever's doing this—they're not slowing down.
And if we don't stop them soon, the next one might not be an empty building.
Chapter 8
Aiden
The industrial building is fully engulfed when we arrive, flames clawing at the night sky like something alive and hungry. Heat radiates across the parking lot in waves, and even from fifty feet back, I can feel it pressing against my skin.
This one's different. Bigger. Angrier.
