Things Strangled by J West

Author:J West [West, J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Milford House Press
Published: 2020-03-02T22:00:00+00:00

19

Shadow and Mac knifed through the bystanders, picked their way over the debris, soot and ashes raining down on them until they reached the pumper, waiting to catch Chief Lane Rusk’s attention. “Fields, swing around back; snap photos of each person leaving. Help vacate the building if you can.” Agonizing minutes ticked by until a firefighter exited the warehouse, pulling his facemask down and waving more men inside. Straining, Shadow surged forward, Mac followed.

Rusk noticed a woman with auburn hair and a K-9 officer near the entrance. Tilting up his face shield, he marched over to her. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back—” He pointed, stepped toward her, backing her against his truck. Shiny as a candy apple, it was slewed against the curb. Uniforms plopped down orange cones and rerouted traffic. He reached into the cab, pulled out two bottles of water, sat down beside her on the running board. Handed one over. “The all-clear means people vacated the building. My men can enter—not you. Your dog would burn her paws, for one. Two, only firemen enter until I deem the structure safe.”

Mac accepted it, closed her iPhone’s camera and nodded her thanks. “Good point. Sit, Shadow. We can’t go in yet.” She sent the Chief and Sonja text messages, requesting fireproof booties for her K-9 officer.

“Not today at all,” Rusk affirmed.

Police officers cordoned off the area with crime scene tape, climbing around hoses snaking everywhere. “Move back, folks. Don’t get hurt by flying debris!” Inside, clanging metal collided and fell. The roof buckled in a thunderous din. Tongues of flame licked through a hole in the roof. Water shot from the pumper hose, arcing to meet the flames. Shouted commands, firefighters dragging equipment, showers of soot with smoke, rustling clothes and dramatic exclamations of the media assailed the ears.

“Arson or accident? Or too soon to tell?” Mac asked, knowing the question irritated him. “What can you tell me?”

“Nothing ‘till we get inside to investigate, which we can’t do until the hot spots are smothered.” His face was charred with soot and hair soaked; he shook his head. “Not as bad as it could have been. The stage set’s destroyed. The warehouse will need a new roof. At least everyone made it out. But it’ll take several days to sift through all this rubble to determine the cause. But no dead bodies. Just let us do our job.”

“I have a police officer here and an assault victim to protect,” Mac said.

A blonde with a nest of frazzled hair collapsed onto the truck’s back step, her long navy dress with pink roses piping the yoke was torn and singed along the hemline. A rip along the right sleeve revealed an angry burn.

“Lee!” Mac peered at her officer. “Are you OK? Do you need a doctor?”

Officer Jeffers waived her offer aside, leaned her head back. “Just a burn. Water?”

Mac pulled a bottle from her backpack and handed it to her. “Sorry, it’s not cold.”

“It’s wet.” Jeffers chugged, rivulets running down the corners of her mouth.

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