I say, out loud, to the empty cabin, "I am not going back."
The rain comes down harder on the roof. Somewhere far off a crow calls twice and stops. The stove ticks. The radio on the shelf is still on the weather band, a different voice now, a woman, reading a storm warning for a county I still have not heard of.
I pull the sleeves of Max's flannel shirt down over my hands and I tuck my knees up under me on the chair, and I wait for the woman who saved me to come home.
5
MAX
Three taps, pause, two taps.
"Come."
I push the door open.
Val is at her desk in the day light for once, late morning sun coming through the window at her back and cutting a hard line across the carpet between us. The green-shaded lamp is off. The city past the window is silver. She has two folders in front of her and her reading glasses on her nose and a cup of tea that isn't steaming anymore. Her watch is on the desk beside the cup. She is wearing her full uniform jacket. When she wears the jacket before noon it means somebody outside the station is coming in, or somebody outside the station was here already.
"Sit."
I sit.
I keep my back straight, as I always do in this chair. My hands are on my thighs. The arrangement starts the second the door closes. I wait.
She takes the reading glasses off and sets them on top of the first folder and looks at me.
"Clark fire," she says. "Walk me through it."
"Ignition at oh-three-fifty, panel room, east wing lower level. Accelerant distribution was per plan along the document storage and under the HVAC intake. Point-of-origin scorch mark was placed at the breaker panel."
"Timing."
"Three minutes twelve to ignition. Four minutes to second-floor venting. I was off the property in under six."
"You were seen."
"No."
"Cameras?”
"None that read a face. The service gate has a unit. I cleared it with my head angled off. Kessler's contractor was keeping the feed."
"Kessler?”
"On shift when the call came in. He signed the report this morning. Faulty wiring, failed breaker, ignition consistent with long-term arc fault."
"You watched him sign it."
"No. I was off shift. I read it after."
She nods once. She puts the reading glasses back on and opens the folder I can see and turns a page I cannot. I do not look at the page. I have never looked at a page in a folder on her desk without permission. That's the arrangement. I have sat in this chair a thousand times and not looked.
"Daniel Clark?” she says.
"Confirmed in the east wing. Fire crew pulled the remains at oh-four-forty."
"You were off the property by oh-three-fifty-six?”
"Yes."
