Blue Smoke

cream. She slathered on moisturizer. She’d walk into a burning building, but damn if she’d sacrifice her skin. Or her vanity, she thought as she carefully applied makeup.
    When she was dressed, she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed to the kitchen to bum a meal.
    Something, it seemed, was always cooking here. Big pots of chili or stew, a huge hunk of meat loaf, a vat of scrambled eggs. The long counters, the stove, would be scrubbed clean after every meal, but the air would always smell of coffee and hot food.
    She’d trained out of this station, and volunteered here often in her free time. She’d slept in the bunks, cooked at the stove, played cards at the table or zoned out to the TV in the lounge.
    No one was surprised when she walked in. She got sleepy nods, cheerful greetings. And a big plate of bacon and eggs.
    She sat next to Gribley, a twelve-year man who sported a neat goatee and burn scars along his clavicle. War wounds.
    “Word is the torch from last night gave you a heads-up.”
    “Word’s right.” She scooped up eggs, washed them down with the Coke she’d taken from the refrigerator. “Looks like he’s got an issue withme. The structure was fully engaged when I got there. Maybe ten minutes after he called.”
    “Poor response time,” Gribley commented.
    “He didn’t tell me he’d lit something up or I’d’ve been faster. I will be, next time.”
    Across the table one of the other men lifted his head. “You looking for a next time? You’re thinking serial this soon out?”
    “I’m prepared for it. You’re going to need to be prepared for it, too. He made this one easy. A little testing move. Like when you stretch your arm up so you can coyly wrap it around a woman’s shoulder. Looking for my reaction, I think. Second floor, eastmost wall first engaged?”
    “Yeah.” Gribley nodded. “That section was in full flashover when we got up. Part of the wall hacked out, vent holes in the ceiling.”
    “First floor had the same deal,” Reena continued. “He took some time. We found four matchbooks, one of them didn’t go off.”
    “Had trailers along the second floor, heading down to the first.” The man across from her, Sands, picked up his coffee mug. “Hadn’t fully caught when we hit them. Slop job, you ask me.”
    “Yeah.” But was that carelessness, or craftiness?
    I t was almost childish.” Reena sat, kicked back in her chair. O’Donnell mirrored her pose. “Gas and paper and matches. The kind of things a kid might play with. If you discount the deliberate venting, it’s kid stuff, or amateur hour. Matchbooks that didn’t have time to catch—so we’d find them. So did he think we wouldn’t see the venting, or did he want us to see it?”
    “If you’re trying to psych him, I say he wanted you to see it. The rest of us are background. You’re the spotlight.”
    “Thanks for putting my mind at rest.” She sat up, hissed. “Who? Why? Where did our paths cross? Or have they only crossed in his head?”
    “We go through old cases, again. And start talking to people involved.Maybe it’s somebody we put away. Maybe it’s somebody we didn’t. Maybe it’s somebody you had a thing with and doesn’t like that you broke it off.”
    She shook her head at this. “I haven’t had a serious thing. I haven’t let a thing get serious since . . .” She trailed off, then rubbed the back of her neck when O’Donnell’s eyes stayed steady on hers. “You keep up with current events, O’Donnell. You know I’ve played it loose since that business with Luke.”
    “Long time to play it loose.”
    “Maybe, but that’s how I like to play it. And any ideas this might be Luke, forget it. He’d never crawl around some grimy building. He’d get his designer suit dirty.”
    “Maybe he wore his play clothes. He still in New York?”
    “As far as I know. Okay.” She lifted her hands. “I’ll check. I hate that I have to check.”
    “You ever think just how bad that guy messed you up?”
    “Hell, he gave me a couple of bruises. I’ve had worse playing touch football.”
    “I’m not talking about your face, Hale. Messed up your head. Shame you gave him the satisfaction. Gonna get some coffee.” He rose, walked off to give her time to think about it.
    Instead, she swore under her breath and turned to her computer to get current data on Luke Chambers.
    Her voice was stiff when O’Donnell came back with a mug. “Luke Chambers has a New York address, and