Blue Smoke

she was while O’Donnell came to join them.
    “They’ll clear us to go back in, just a few minutes. What you got?”
    Reena took a small tape recorder out of her kit so she’d only have to say it once. “Phone call from unidentified subject, my home residence,at twenty-three forty-five,” she began, and moved through the events, her observations, the already collected evidence point by point.
    She switched off the recorder, put it back in her kit. “My opinion?” she continued. “He made it look half-assed. Made it look simple. But he took the time to open the wall upstairs, set the fire in such a way that it would progress behind the walls as well as into the room. We had a broken window up there when I arrived. Maybe he did it, maybe it was already broken, but that ventilation moved the fire along. He used basic stuff. Gas, trailers of paper and matchbooks. But they’re basic because in the right circumstance, they can work extremely well. It doesn’t look like a pro, but it smells like one.”
    “Somebody we’ve met before?”
    “I don’t know, O’Donnell.” Tired, she pushed at her hair. “I’ve been through old cases. So have you. Nothing jumps out. Maybe it’s some wack job I met along the line, brushed off, and this is his way of courting me. This is the neighborhood school. My neighborhood school.”
    She unlocked the car, took out the bagged matchbox to show him. “From Sirico’s, to tell me he knows me, and he can get close. Left where I’d find it. Not inside, where if things got out of hand it could be destroyed. Outside, where the odds were better I’d find it, outside his point of entry, or what he made look like his point of entry. It’s personal.”
    She locked the bag back in the car. “And, okay, it’s fucking spooky. It’s got me wound up.”
    “We work the scene, we work the case. And next time he calls,” O’Donnell added, “and you think about going to check out something without calling me first? Don’t.”
    She hunched her shoulders. “He ratted me out.” She blew out a breath. “And he was right. You’re right. I figured it was just some creep pushing my buttons—which I can handle. Have handled. But this is more.” She studied the building, hazed through smoke. “He’s more. So no, you don’t have to worry about me hotdogging.”
    “Good. Let’s get to work.”

20
    It was after six in the morning when Reena left the scene. She split off from O’Donnell, hooking up with Steve to head to the fire station. O’Donnell would log in the evidence, write the initial report. She’d talk to any of the fire department team who’d been on the fire and who were awake.
    She could get a shower there—finally. She always kept a change in her trunk. Besides, odds were she’d get a good meal at the firehouse, and nights like the one she’d put in stoked her appetite.
    “So this guy Goodnight, what’s the story?” At Reena’s bland stare, Steve shrugged. “Gina’s going to grill me about it. She gets pissy when I don’t have details.”
    “She’s going to grill me anyway. Just tell her I said to come straight to the source.”
    “Appreciate it.”
    “She handles what you do. I mean, it’s never been an issue between the two of you.”
    “She worries sometimes, sure. But no, it’s not a deal. When we lost Biggs last year, that was rough. As rough on her as me. We’ve talked about it.” He pulled on his ear. “About how that kind of risk is part of the job. You have to buy the package, you know? Doesn’t always work,but Gina, she’s tough. You know that. We’ve got the kids, another coming. She’s got to be tough.”
    “She loves you. Love’s tough.” Reena pulled up at the station. “When you call her this morning, ask if she’ll call my parents. Just let them know I’m on this case and everything’s fine. Can you spare the details, Steve? Just for now?”
    “No problem.”
    A couple of men were washing down the pumper. Steve loitered to talk. Reena settled for a wave as she carried her fresh clothes inside.
    She washed smoke out of her hair until her arms ached, then just closed her eyes and let the water beat on her head, her neck, her back.
    Her eyes felt gritty, exhausted, but that would pass. The taste of it would linger, she knew, no matter how much water she drank. The flavor of fire lingered, and even when it passed, it was something she never forgot.
    She took her time, soothing her skin—herself—by rubbing in scented