Page 4 of Torch’s Wildfire

And Torch's career went straight down the toilet.

According to the reports, he'd made serious mistakes during the incident and refused to accept the investigation's conclusions.

Several articles described him as unstable.

Obsessive.

A disgraced former firefighter who couldn't let go.

Which makes me wonder how much truth I'd get if I simply knocked on his door and started asking questions.

If he screwed up that investigation as badly as the newspapers claim, he might not be particularly eager to discuss it with a stranger.

And if he knows something about the dead man that never made it into the official reports, what's stopping him from lying to me?

I'd rather find out what I'm dealing with before giving him the chance.

I glance around the immaculate room.

The man clearly likes control.

A lot of it.

I should probably find that intimidating.

Instead, I'm wondering whether he color-codes his underwear.

A closed door beside the hallway draws my attention.

I try the handle.

Unlocked.

Of course.

Why would a man who keeps his entire house organized bother locking his office?

Except it isn't an office.

It's a bedroom.

A very masculine bedroom.

Dark bedding, heavy wooden furniture, and absolutely no decorative pillows.

I approve of that last part.

Decorative pillows are a scam invented by people who hate making beds.

I check the dresser.

Nothing particularly interesting.

Socks.

T-shirts.

Everything folded with almost irritating precision.