Page 58 of Fire Harbor

“Does it have an automatic shut-off? If not, I’ll check on my way back home.”

“No, it’s one of those cheap Mr. Coffee models. Wow, I just realized I really need to upgrade my coffeemaker. Am I that cheap?”

Margie delivered their plates piled high with generous portions of eggs and pancakes. “Here you go. Enjoy. Holler if you need anything else.”

Linus unrolled his silverware from the paper napkin and wasted no time slathering butter on his pancakes.

Lake dug into her eggs before dousing her pancakes in syrup. Savoring each bite, she leaned her back against the booth and picked up her coffee to sip. “I’d offer a theory about the break-ins, except that I promised Brent Cody I’d stay out of police business.”

“You have a suspect in mind?”

“No suspect. But I think I know why he’s breaking into people’s houses.”

“Why?”

“He seeks attention. He wants people to notice him.”

“Or he’s addicted to the thrill of it all. Or addicted to drugs in general.”

“If that were the case, he’d be stealing anything of value he could get his hands on. I don’t think it’s that. It sounds to me like he’s gathering intelligence on those people he decides need scouting,” Lake pointed out. “Maybe he’s stalking certain people.”

“Why would he do that?”

She was about to come back with an answer when she heard a loud roar that sounded like a freight train slamming into a building. The windows in the diner shook. People inside scattered and darted to the nearest window to see what was happening. People on Main Street turned their heads west and started running toward Smuggler’s Bay.

Someone on the street yelled, “A boat’s blown up! There’s a fire in the harbor!”

Linus stood up and saw what they meant. He stared at an intense flash of light, with orange flames shooting fifty feet into the air. Billowing black smoke seemed to circle overhead and drift eastward toward downtown.

A few moments later, another explosion rang out like a cannon blast, followed by a cacophony of cracking wood, shattering glass, and panicked screams. Another boat splintered into pieces, debris flying in all directions, sending fragments of shrapnel into the water and onto nearby boats. As a succession of fiery blasts continued to light up the morning sky, the smoke colored the air with shades of black and gray.

The phone Linus carried in his pocket vibrated with a message. He dug it out to see a text from the fire captain, then another from the hospital.

“I’m getting called into work,” he announced to Lake, who pressed into his side to get a better look at the towering fire.

“Go on,” Lake urged. “I’ve got this. Stay safe. Call me when you can,” she said as she watched him dart out the door.

Linus ran to his pickup, jumped in, and made a left turn onto Crescent Street. A few minutes later, he pulled up to the pier, where a crowd had gathered. Making his way through the throng of gawkers, he took in the scene. The fireball and plume of black smoke rose sixty feet above the marina. The force of the explosion had not yet hit the fuel dock. But it was a possibility.

The stench of burning wood and metal hung in the air, accompanied by the acrid odor of fuel and chemicals. The smell was suffocating, choking anyone who breathed it in. Pelicans and seagulls scattered, trying to dodge the flames.

Reaching high into the sky, the blaze projected an eerie orange banner across the harbor like a fireworks display gone horribly wrong. Flames licked at the sides of several sailboats, cruisers, and fishing trawlers, blackening their hulls in a matter of minutes. In a chaotic dance, more black smoke rose into the sky, blotting out the sun.

He spotted two fishermen attempting to pour water over the flames. The ensuing sparks engulfed other boats, potentially adding massive fuel to the already out-of-control fire.

Linus ran to the dock, joining the fishermen along the pier in a bucket brigade. As people passed buckets from one person to the other, he could feel the intense heat radiating off the top of the water, causing his skin to prickle and sweat to trickle down his face. Soon, Colt Del Rio and Theo Woodsong stood alongside him, increasing the chain.

“The fire department should be pulling up any time now,” Linus told the others as he heard the sirens blaring in the distance.

“Does anyone know what happened?” Colt asked. “It’s like a bomb went off.”

Brent Cody came running up behind them. “What the hell happened here? It looks like a war zone.”

Linus glanced at the others before shaking his head. “I have no idea, but we need to focus on putting out the fire first. Later we can figure out the cause,” he replied, handing Theo a bucket as they worked in unison to douse the flames. “For now, let’s keep it contained before it spreads to the pier.”

As the bucket brigade continued their desperate attempt to gain control, another explosion rocked one of the fishing trawlers. Debris flew through the air again, causing panic among the onlookers.

Linus shielded his face as wood fragments and metal rained down around them. “We need to move these people back to the street,” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. His eyes wide with fear, he gestured toward the entire bay. “If that fire reaches the wharf, the whole thing could collapse at any moment.”

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