“You with us?”
“Yeah,” I answer immediately.
He holds my eyes for a second longer than necessary, like he’s weighing the truth of that answer, then he nods once.
“Stay that way.”
“Yes, sir.”
Back at the station, the adrenaline fades slower than it should. Leaves something restless in its place.
I stand at the sink longer than necessary, scrubbing at my hands even after the soot is gone, watching the dark water spiral down the drain like it takes the edge of the call with it.
“You’re going to take your skin off if you keep doing that.”
I glance up. Ray leans against the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable in that way he’s perfected over the years.
“I’m fine,” I say, shutting off the water.
He nods slowly, like he hears the words but doesn’t put much weight behind them.
“You thinking about that fire at the inn?”
I grab a towel, drying my hands with more force than necessary.
“Yeah.”
“You think it was accidental?”
The question hangs between us. And not nearly as easy to answer as it should be.
“That’s what it looks like,” I say.
Ray doesn’t move.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I meet his gaze. Hold it.
“No,” I say finally. “I don’t.”
Silence stretches.
“Then you figure out why,” he says.
“I am.”
“Good.”
He pushes off the doorway, turning to leave, then pauses.
“And Wright?”
“Yeah.”
“If it ties back to you in any way,” he says, “you don’t handle it alone.”
I nod once.
