Blue Smoke

“Locked.”
    She debated. She could leave him here, exposed, or take him with her while she circled the building. “Stay close,” she commanded. And heardthe first sirens as she rounded the building. She found the broken window. Through it, she saw the fire was streaming through a classroom, eating desks, crawling up walls and out into the hallway.
    “You’re not going in there.”
    She shook her head. No, not without gear. But she could see, the point of origin was right there, and trailers were set—crumpled waxed paper maybe—to lead out into the hall, across to other classrooms. She could smell gasoline, and see rivers of it still gleaming on the floor.
    Was he watching?
    She stepped back to scan and study the neighboring buildings, and something crunched under her foot. She shone her light down, then crouched.
    Her fingers itched, but she didn’t touch what she saw was a box of wooden matches. And her heart thudded into her throat when she shone her light and saw the familiar Sirico’s logo. “Do me a favor. In the trunk of my car there’s a kit, evidence bags inside. I need one.”
    “You’re not going in,” he repeated.
    “No. I’m not going in.”
    She stayed where she was, considering the matches, then raising her eyes to scan the area. Okay, he knew her, wanted to be sure she understood that.
    Did he have the need to be close, to watch the burn?
    People were starting to come out now, and cars were stopping. Excited voices swept through the air, and the distant scream of sirens pierced it.
    When Bo brought her a bag, she scooped the matchbox into it and sealed it.
    “We wait.” She hurried back to the front, hooked her badge on her waistband and began to order the gathering crowd to stay back.
    “What can I do?” Bo asked her.
    “Keep out of the way,” she began, and locked the evidence bag in her car. “I’m going to need to fill in the unit chief when he gets here. You’ve got a good eye. Pay attention to the gawkers. If you see anybody who seems too interested I want to know about it. He’ll be an adult male.He’ll be alone. He’ll be watching me as much as the fire. Can you do that?”
    “Yeah.”
    He’d never seen a response before, not outside of movies. Everything moved so fast, with so much color and sound and movement. Like some sort of strange sporting event, Bo thought as the trucks rolled up and firefighters leaped into action.
    It made him think of the game they’d seen that evening. That same kind of intense and focused teamwork. But instead of bats and balls there were hoses and axes, oxygen tanks and masks.
    These were the people who ran toward fire while the rest of the world ran from it. With helmets gleaming in the flashing lights, they walked into the smoke and the heat.
    While he watched, firefighters in turnout gear broke down the door and walked inside while teammates soaked the building with great arcs of water from the hoses.
    Responding police moved quickly to set up barricades, to keep the gathering crowd behind them. As Reena had asked, he studied faces, tried to find the type she was looking for. He saw flames reflected in wide, stunned eyes, the ripple of red and gold shimmering on skin, and imagined he looked very much the same. There were couples and loners, families with children in their arms, in nightclothes, in bare feet. More fully dressed who poured out of cars that stopped up and down the block.
    Admittance free, he thought and glanced back at the building. And it was a hell of a show.
    Fire shot out through the roof, quickening towers of it, flaming gold in the dense roll of smoke. The smell of it stung his eyes, and ash began to dance in the air. White water, geysers of it, spewed out, slashing the building with such force he wondered the structure could stand against it.
    He heard the sound of breaking glass and looked up to see the jagged shower of it as a window exploded. Someone in the crowd screamed.
    Even where he stood he could feel the press of heat. How did they stand it? he wondered. The force of it, the blinding storm and stench of the smoke.

    Ladders rose, the men on them like flags, the hoses hefty streamers that gushed more water.
    A man cut through the crowd. Bo stepped forward, ready to act—he wasn’t sure how—then saw the flash of a badge, the nods of acknowledgment from cops, from firefighters. Big guy, Bo noticed, broad shoulders, wide belly, grim Irish face. He moved straight to Reena.
    O’Donnell, Bo decided,