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I glanced at Riv, happy to see the approving grin I was used to seeing when we laid down a perfect track.
He smirked. “Yeah, it was all that and a bag of chips,” Lerner said.
We all laughed. His pop-culture references weren’t the most up-to-date.
I turned to Skylar, who was an incredible composer and a band teacher in the Midwest. “There’s still something not right with it. What do you think, Sky?”
The gorgeous man grinned. “It’s great, JD. Do you have any changes in mind? River told me you wrote this one and the music by yourself. I wouldn’t dare touch it without your permission.”
I sighed. “You have my permission to make it better. I want it to be…” I trailed off. I wasn’t ready to tell the band I was leaving, but it was at the forefront of my mind.
“To be what?” Arlo asked as he stepped behind me and slung his arm around my neck.
I inhaled before I answered. “I want it to be something we’re remembered for.”
After staring into the eyes of my bandmates and seeing them nod, I smiled. “Let’s make it something for the ages.”
Chapter Eight
Thatcher
After returning to the beach from dropping him off in Century City at Sound Wave Studios, I walked around the house and noticed Jordan’s things scattered around. His flip-flops on the mat. A notebook on the coffee table with an engraved pen next to it. An empty coffee cup on a coaster on an end table.
I picked up the green stoneware mug and took it to the kitchen to put in the dishwasher. After I turned on the appliance, I returned to the living room and picked up the notebook to flip through it, seeing it was nearly full of black ink on the white lined pages. Was it poetry? No…they were song lyrics.
Glancing over my shoulder as if I thought I’d get caught snooping in my empty house, I read through a few pages, impressed by Jordan’s poetic prose. I shouldn’t have read it, but I was a weak man. I needed to figure out how to read the guy to determine whether I had a shot with him or if I were making a fool of myself. After reading his heartfelt song lyrics, I realized I’d stepped over the line.
The ear-piercing blare of the emergency tones sounded from the kitchen, causing me to drop the notebook as if the cover had burned me. I had my emergency scanner on so I knew what was going on, and that loud blast was all too familiar. A fire or medical emergency was underway, and citizens were in peril.
“Engine 2, Truck 2, Medic 2. House fire at 11012 West Pine Street. Reported by a neighbor who says the family is on vacation. Two-story structure. Fire is located on the east side of the house next to the garage. Emergency channel six.”
I grabbed my phone and called dispatch. “CAL FIRE Dispatch. Janice speaking.”
“Janice, hi. It’s Thatcher Emberly. Is Captain Blake on the scene?” It was my day off, but if my cap’s Team Three needed me, I’d be there in a hot minute.
“Hey, Ember. Yeah, Captain Blake is running incident command. Battalion Chief White is in Sacramento at a meeting, so Captain Blake is running incident command. Do you want me to give Cap a message?”
I sighed. “Just tell him if he needs me, I’m available. Thank you, Janice.”
“Copy, Ember.”
We ended the call, and I put in a load of laundry. As I was about to make a grocery list, my phone buzzed with a call. I checked the screen to see it was Cap, but he wasn’t calling through dispatch.
“Hey, Cap. What’s up?”
“Can you call the fire marshal’s office and ask for Max Cooper? See if he can come to the scene. You come on out too, unless you’ve got appointments. Something about this house fire is off. It doesn’t add up. The location of the fire is wrong, and there’s no easy way to figure out how it started that doesn’t lead to someone setting it.” Fucking hell, that wasn’t good.
I glanced at the clock over the fridge. It was just about two in the afternoon. Jordan believed he’d be at the studio until at least five, so I had time.
“I’ll be there in fifteen, Cap. I’ll reach out to the investigator and relay the address.”
“Thanks.”
Cap hung up, and I quickly called Max directly instead of going through the fire marshal’s office switchboard. Max Cooper, one of the fire investigators for LA County who served El Segundo’s fire district, was a damn nice guy who was smart as a whip. I played in a dart league with him during the winter, and we got along very well.
Max answered on the second ring. “Cooper.”
“Hey, Max. It’s Thatcher Emberly. We have a situation. A house fire at 11012 West Pine Street. Captain Blake asked that you come on scene. He says there’s an issue with the fire that needs to be looked into by your office.”
