Page 3 of Scorched

“Walters.” He walked up to the older man standing beside the ladder truck, staring up at the fire. It was still burning, the progress they made earlier erased by the blast.

“Jesus, Briggs. Are you and Reeves okay? That was some explosion. I can’t believe the house is still standing.”

“We’re fine. Cracked ribs for me and a concussion for Reeves. He’s on his way to the hospital. Do we know what caused the blast? I thought we had it contained.”

“So did I. There’s no word yet, though. It’s too hot to get inside, but we’re getting there.”

Declan nodded. “Okay. Sam and I didn’t make it to the back of the house before it blew, so we never checked the rooms back there.”

“I’ll make that the priority, then. I hope the place was unoccupied. The neighbors said it’s vacant because it was a flip, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a squatter they didn’t know about.”

“Or a contractor working late. Okay. I’ll take over here. You go coordinate an entry team.”

“On it.” He jogged off, and Declan sagged against the truck. He lifted the radio mic to his mouth, pressing the talk button. “Gehring.”

The radio squawked. “Sir?”

“Bring me some water, would you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Declan pressed the button again, this time checking on his teams. He continued to coordinate their efforts to knock down the blaze for the next couple hours. Because of the intensity, they weren’t able to get inside again until they reduced it to a smolder. The fire burned through the floor to the cellar, and they needed the visibility to walk through the house without falling through. Well aware of the danger, Declan sent Walters inside with another experienced firefighter once it was safe.

His radio crackled to life. “Briggs.”

“Yeah, Walt.”

“Call the coroner. We’ve got a body.”

Declan swore, loud and long, before replying. “Copy.” Switching channels, he radioed dispatch and asked them to call Dr. Randall as well as Sheriff Archer.

Dammit! Could this scene get any worse? He pushed away from the truck and went looking for the med kit. He needed that pain medicine now. His ribs weren’t the only thing throbbing anymore.

“Forensics just pulled in,” Gehring said, running up to Declan an hour later.

Declan lifted his head from where he rested it against the doorframe of the firetruck.

“You all right, Lou?”

“I’m fine.” He hurt everywhere. The pain pills only dulled his aches to a loud roar, but he still had a job to do. He would just have to deal. “You said forensics is here?”

The young man nodded and pointed to his left. “They’re over there.”

“Thanks.” Declan swung his legs out the open door and lowered himself to the ground, biting back a moan as the movement shifted his broken ribs. He tucked his left arm close and walked over to the forensics van. As he got close, he could hear Dr. Randall and the chief forensic scientist Katie Mitchum arguing.

“All I’m asking for is paint, Alex.”

“Of the entire room. I had to hire a crew to do it the first time because of the high ceilings.”

“So, we do that again.”

“What’s wrong with the color it is?”

“It’s—boring.”

He laughed. “Not everything needs to be shades of the rainbow, love.”

“I’m not asking for purple or red. A nice shade of sage would be great. I mean, if I’m going to live there, I should love it, right?”

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