Page 36 of Flash Freeze

O’Riley patted her shoulder, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It worked out this time, Cash. But I’m serious. No more cowboy stunts.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. Yet on the inside, she knew she’d always put herself in harm’s way if it was the only option to save a life.

The assistant chief smiled at her before turning to walk away. “Write it all up in your after-action report, Lieutenant Cash. I’m heading home.”

Flash adjusted the hose over her shoulder and hauled it back to Engine Eight to stow it with the others. Her crewmembers were already sitting in the cab, laughing and swapping stories. She climbed into the passenger seat and switched the status button to available.

“That was one gutsy move,” said Bobbie Flores, an incredulous look on his sooty face as he raked a hand through his wet hair.

Flash shrugged, her adrenaline still high after fighting the blaze. “Don’t you do anything like that, or I’ll catch hell. Got it?” Maybe there had been time to put out the small fire she’d jumped, or maybe the few minutes it took would’ve made the difference between a rescue and a recovery.

Little kids and old people are more susceptible to smoke inhalation hazards than regular adults. The heat was easily enough to cook them in minutes. And with the ceiling falling in? No. She couldn’t have waited. It was the right call, even if it wasn’t by the book. Flash knew fires. No set of guidelines could overrule her instincts. What worried her was the few seconds she froze in indecision. Before the bugles, she’d have simply rushed ahead, no questions asked. Now the weight of responsibility forced her to pause.

It was the right call.

“Take us home, Adams.”

Chapter 17

Athena and Detective Bach sat across from a young man in casual clothes who glanced around the room with wide eyes. Beads of sweat formed along his chestnut hairline, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Walsh,” Athena said, introducing herself and Bach. “We’re conducting follow-up interviews with Gulf Allied Chemicals employees about the fire last Friday.” His pupils appeared dilated beneath pulled-back lids. He swallowed.

“Yeah.” He brought his fidgeting hands together, clenching them on the table in front of him. “I told the police Friday morning. I was in the meeting with all the other office employees when the alarms went off. I didn’t really see anything but smoke. It was scary, though. Elizabeth tripped, and I helped her up. We got out together.”

Bach sent Athena a look that told her he also noticed the witness was acting nervous.

“Mr. Walsh, tell us about your job. What exactly does an administrative assistant do at Gulf Allied Chemicals?” Bach asked.

“General office support, day-to-day paperwork, help management keep track of everything,” he listed as he continued to perspire.

“In other words, you take coffee orders and answer the phone,” Bach stated bluntly.

Walsh sat forward, his eyes focusing on the detective, as nerves gave way to insult. Raising his voice, he jabbed the table with a finger. “That’s not fair. I have a degree from the McCombs School of Business at the University of Texas at Austin, and I’m not a gofer for coffee and donuts. In fact, I prepared the documents for the OSHA/EPA inspector ahead of his visit. I enter data, update spreadsheets, prepare reports and letters, manage the boss’s calendar, and oversee crucial goings-on around the office.”

Athena smiled to herself. Got a rise out of him. He wants us to know he’s important, his finger on the pulse.

“You prepared documents for Inspector Nolan?” Athena clarified. “Did you present them to him personally?”

“Yes, on the first day he arrived,” Walsh said. “My job also entails greeting visitors. I met Mr. Nolan at the front door of the office building on Thursday morning, gave him the papers he’d asked for in advance, and showed him around. Then I escorted him to Mr. Booker’s office.”

“Did you engage in further interaction with Mr. Nolan?” Bach asked.

“I saw him moving around the plant.” Walsh’s bravado faded, as if he’d realized he’d said too much. “But Kim—Kim Reynolds—was his official escort. She walked around with him while he took pictures and checked things off his list. Friday morning, he sent her away. He said he didn’t want anyone hovering and distracting him while he double-checked the accounting books in the office.”

“And then you went with the others to the administrative meeting with Mr. Booker,” Bach suggested, “to give Mr. Nolan privacy.”

“That’s right.” Walsh’s face brightened.

“Where exactly was the conference room in relation to the office?” Athena’s tone remained congenial as she studied him.

“Let’s see.” Walsh glanced at the ceiling and steepled his fingers before him, elbows on the table. “Same floor, about a hundred feet down a hallway, on the rear side of the building. There was an emergency exit close by, thank the Lord.”

“So, no line of sight?” Athena proposed. He shook his head. “And did anyone leave the meeting while it was in session—even to use the restroom?”

“Wendy slipped out for the bathroom,” he said, twirling his fingers, “but she’s pregnant. She has to go all the time, and there’re restrooms on that side, so she wouldn’t have gone all the way to the office.”

Athena nodded, flicking a glance at Bach. The detective opened a folder in front of him, perusing the first page while neither of them said anything.