“I’m sorry aboutMarried at First Sight.”
Amy rolls her eyes. “I’m sure there are clips on TikTok.”
My phone buzzes with a message from Liam.
He’s not replying to my messages or picking up his phone.
Any anxiety Amy wormed out of me reappears.
I try to be rational.
It’s midnight. Freddie’s asleep. His phone could be on silent, or off all together. There’s no reason to panic, the job we’re heading to is a no-occupancy fire, meaning no one is present at the scene. Freddie finishes at seven. For Zack to confidently tell us there are no potential casualties, he must’ve spoken with the site manager or the owner who would’ve confirmed no one was there.
He’s not in any danger, and yet . . . it picks away at me. There’ssomething. I frown, trying to think what it is, searching my brain for the missing details. We don’t know where Freddie’s been staying, and last night when we’d seen him, we’d been too invested in his cock to notice what else the camera told us.
I tap out a quick reply to Liam.
Keep trying him.
When we arrive on scene, I skim my gaze across the fire as an afterthought. It’s the car park that interests me and its completely empty. I ease out a breath and drop from the cab.
Now that I know Freddie isn’t here, I can concentrate.
Hunter Healthcare is roughly one hundred and fifty feet long. It has two floors and a flat roof. The ground floor is on fire, but the blaze doesn’t appear to be furious enough to break the windows and cave the roof in. Black smoke pours out beneath two windows at each end of the building. The fire crackles andpops, but from what I can see it looks like we got here in good time.
“Stupid kids,” Martin says. An energy drink goes skidding across the asphalt from his boot. It glugs out pink liquid with a strong sweet smell. The ground reeks of it, and it’s tacky underfoot. When we walk, our boots make a ripping sound like a waxing strip.
Martin approaches the slightly ajar window where smoke leaks out. “They must’ve forced them open, the little shits.”
It fits the arsonist’s pattern: two fires that meet in the middle. I turn, wondering whether they’re watching close by, disappointed we came too early. We’ll have this under control in no time, but Amy points to the top of the building.
There’s more thick black smoke wafting up from behind, visible thanks to the bright lights from the building opposite.
“Shit,” Martin says, but there’s no urgency to his stride as he walks to the edge of Hunter for a look. We all wait, and at a distance he conforms the back is ablaze too.
The smoke carries a smell. Petrol.
“What kind of things does Hunter Healthcare make?” Amy asks.
“Component parts for medical equipment,” I answer, but I’m not entirely sure. Freddie’s told me he makes tubes, connectors, sheets, filters, but I translated his words to bits and bobs.
“Out of plastic?”
My shoulders sink. “Yeah . . .”
Darren, the senior officer on duty, waves Martin back. “Let’s get on with it before we’re breathing toxic fumes.”
I unfurl the hose but keep glancing at the can of energy drink. There’s a few of them, and packets of sweets too. I flick my chin out to one on the floor. “Is it empty?”
Darren huffs in my direction, but Martin rolls his foot over the packet of jellybeans. “Nope, not empty. Want one?”
“I’m good.”
“More for me,” Martin mutters. He snatches up a packet and shoves it in his pocket for later.
Amy nudges me. “You good?”
“I’m fine.”
