Page 4 of Burning Justice

Brett and Blaze jogged back to his SUV, where he grabbed pairs of vinyl and unused, virgin leather gloves, along with a few evidence bags he stuffed into a thigh pocket. “Show me,” he said when they’d returned to the same firefighter.

They went inside one of the doors that had been broken open to vent the building. Though the fire was out in this part of the warehouse, firefighters continued spraying water to disperse any remaining vapors. Burned and charred debris lay everywhere, wispy gray tendrils spiraling upward. A multitude of smells permeated the air.

Smoke. Burned rubber. Melted plastic. Chemicals. Smoke was still the dominant scent, but now that they were inside, the chemical odor was stronger, similar to the stench of permanent markers.

Blaze tugged at the leash, his nasal receptors already pinging with accelerant odors even Brett could smell. “Seek.”

His dog began sniffing, circling twice, before leading them to the remains of a small sofa plunked in the middle of the smoldering warehouse. Blaze sat, and Brett slipped him another freeze-dried nugget. “Here’s the fuel package.” He nodded to the sofa. Upholstered furniture was made of metal, wood, natural fibers, and foam padding, most of which were fuel for a fire.

“He must have used these.” Downing pointed to a dozen rectangular cans scattered on the floor.

Most of their labels had been burned away. Brett nudged one of them with his foot. Empty. The letters MEK were barely visible. Methyl ethyl ketone.

Brett gripped Blaze’s leash tighter. There wasn’t a single bullet point on an MEK label or Material Safety Data Sheet that he couldn’t recite by heart. Approved usages. Health hazards. Exposure limits. Toxicity. The label is the law, but if improperly used, MEK could quickly become RBS. Really bad shit.

MEK was a colorless, highly flammable liquid that smelled like acetone. As a readily available industrial solvent, it was commonly used as a degreaser to remove adhesives and paint and often used in the aircraft refurbishing process to prep the fuselage for repainting.

Brett stared at the cans. Gasoline was the universal accelerant of choice for an arsonist, so why use MEK? Because it was readily available on the warehouse shelves? Maybe. Or because the arsonist was familiar with it, knew exactly what kind of damage it would do? Most arsonists found a method they liked, then stuck with it.

MEK had also been the culprit at the Torrance Lane fire. For various reasons Brett disagreed with, arson had been dismissed as the cause. Despite that determination, to this day, he still suspected arson. Since then, he’d followed up on every single fire in Colorado Springs, to the detriment of his personal life and his sanity. Somewhere out there was the missing piece of evidence he was convinced existed to prove that fire was arson. Until he found it, he’d never give up, never stop searching, and never find peace.

“What’s with the rope?” Gemma pointed to pieces of singed rope dangling from stacks of burned, blackened lumber. “Trailers?”

“Yeah.” Brett nodded. “Fire always tells you where it came from. Before they burned, those pieces of rope probably ran all the way to the sofa. That way, he could be sure the fire would hit whatever was on the shelves.”

Telling them whoever set this fire wanted to make sure it destroyed as much of the contents as possible. Maximum destruction. Brett looked around at what little remained of the shelving and warehouse stock. The arsonist had pretty much accomplished his goal.

“This way.” Downing went ahead, sidestepping a pile of debris and a row of collapsed metal shelving.

Gemma followed, skirting the same debris, but her shirt caught on a piece of jagged metal sticking out from the damaged shelf. She uttered a soft cry, then started falling. Headfirst.

Brett lunged, wrapping one arm around her waist, then scooping her up against his chest the same way a groom would carry his bride over the threshold. “I’ve got you.”

Her chest heaved against his. She was small and curvy, fitting perfectly in his arms. Somehow, in the midst of all the residual smoke and chemical smells in the air, Brett breathed in something pretty and sweet.

For an infinitely long moment, their gazes met and held. Something seemed to sizzle between them. A spark of electricity.

She pushed at his chest, her hand searing an imprint straight through his shirt to his skin. “Thanks, but um. You can put me down now.”

“Uh, right.” He released her legs, letting her body slide down his to a standing position.

“Hey, back here.” Downing waved them over to a corner of the warehouse, where he pointed to the floor.

Before Brett could identify what the firefighter was pointing to, he smelled it. The sickly scent of burned hair and flesh. The body was charred beyond recognition. No remaining hair or identifiable facial features.

He blew out a breath. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting. The charges had just changed. Drastically.

For this fire, Gavin Aldrich would be charged with arson and now…

Felony murder.

Chapter Two

“Mr. Aldrich,” U.S. Magistrate Judge Maritza Tafoya stated, “you are remanded to the Pine Springs Mental Health Treatment Center in Colorado Springs for a preliminary psychiatric assessment. This assessment will determine if you are a danger to others and will be a deciding factor as to whether you enter the correctional system or the mental health system.”

Judge Tafoya paused to look at her laptop. “Mr. Aldrich, you are ordered to reappear in court two days from now.”

“Your Honor.” Aldrich’s public defender, a man in his late forties and wearing glasses, stood. “I assure you my client is not a danger to others. He and another homeless man were sleeping in the back of the warehouse. My client managed to get out, but his friend didn’t. This was the first person who cared about my client and helped him in a very long time. Mr. Aldrich’s background is quite complex. We need more than two days to conduct a comprehensive psychiatric assessment. I’d like to request an adjournment for two months, allowing sufficient time for a thorough evaluation.”