Cole sat in his office at the station, glancing at the clock once more. 9:48. Twelve minutes left. He stood up with a sigh, stretching his back as his eyes fell on the piles of paperwork stacked neatly on his desk. He couldn’t wait for his shift to end.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and left his office, heading for the garage. He needed something to do while he waited out the last few minutes of his shift.
The fire alarm blared to life as he passed between Engines 4 and 5, slicing through the station''s silence like a blade. His pulse spiked instantly, and instinctively, he rushed toward the lockers—then froze.
He didn’t have a uniform in there anymore. He’d left that behind months ago.
Mason came running out of his office, his face grim. “Huge fire and explosion at 416 Witman,” he said. “Witnesses say someone set it and drove off.”
Cole exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping for a moment. “Great. Just before our shift ends.” He quickly shook off the fatigue. “Alright, let’s go. Maybe we can finally get some info on our arsonist.”
They bolted out of the station and jumped into the station’s new F-350. The truck’s bright red paint gleamed under the floodlights as they sped out of the lot with sirens blaring, Engine 4 ahead of them.
"Not his usual area," Mason remarked, glancing at the route.
"No," Cole muttered, his eyes scanning the street signs as they passed. "The fire’s on the south side of town. All his other fires have been north."
Mason’s brow furrowed. "Maybe it’s not the same guy," he suggested, hopeful. "I mean, that wouldn’t be good, but—"
Cole shook his head, cutting him off. "Or maybe he’s expanding. Or worse, he’s sending a message."
Mason shot him a confused look. "A message? What do you mean?"
Cole''s jaw clenched as he weaved the truck around cars that hadn’t pulled over. "Think about it. This fire? It’s in a completely different part of town. The other side. It’s like he wants us to know he’s here."
Mason frowned. "But why would he give away his location? Doesn’t make sense."
Cole didn’t answer right away, his thoughts churning. The knot of dread tightening in his chest wouldn’t go away. He kept his focus on the road ahead. "I don’t know," he finally muttered. "But I’m going to find him. And we’re going to figure it out."
Cole saw the bright orange flames licking at the sky as they neared the fire. The entire block seemed ready to ignite, a growing inferno that threatened to consume everything in its path. By the time they arrived, the two-story Victorian house at the center of the fire had already been reduced to a towering column of flame and smoke. The explosion from earlier had ravaged the building beyond recognition. The surrounding houses were caught in the blaze, their windows shattering and walls collapsing under the searing heat.
Cole parked the F-350 twenty feet behind Engine 4. The fire crew had already disembarked, spraying water at the fire and nearby houses, but it was clear the battle was far from over. Flames continued to devour anything in their path.
Mason motioned to a crowd of people standing nearby. “Want to ask them questions? See if anyone saw anything?”
“Yeah, maybe we can finally get a visual of our guy,” Cole said, his eyes still fixed on the fire. "We’ll be lucky if we can save this block. All it’d take is a stray spark."
A sharp, familiar sting jabbed into his chest as he watched the flames grow higher. The night of the fire eight months ago—when he had failed to save that little girl—rose up like an uninvited ghost. The smoke, the flames, the screams... the helplessness. His breath quickened.
No. He had to focus.
He forced the memories back down, like a dam holding back floodwaters, and focused on the task at hand. Not again. Don’t do this to yourself.
"Yeah, but they’ve got it handled. Hopefully." Evan’s voice broke through his thoughts. He wasn’t looking at Cole, or maybe he was pretending not to notice. They walked toward the crowd of people, and Cole finally dragged his eyes away from the inferno. Engine 2 had just arrived and was helping Engine 4.
“Did anyone see who set the fire?” Cole asked the group. A few people spoke up, and he ushered them over to a quieter spot. Seven witnesses followed, and Cole divided them up, sending three to Evan.
“Did anyone see what the person looked like?” he asked, hoping someone might have caught a glimpse.
“I did,” a woman spoke up, stepping forward. Her black hair fell in loose waves around her face. She looked to be in her late 30s. “He was younger. Maybe no older than twenty-five.”
Cole scribbled the details in his notepad as she spoke. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, he had blond hair, though it looked unkempt. That’s really all I saw.”
“That’s fine,” Cole said, writing down her description. “How did he get here? Did he walk, drive...?”
“He drove a little black sedan. I’m not good with cars. I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“It’s okay. Every little bit helps.” Cole glanced back at the group. Another man stepped forward, his face worn with age, his voice rough.
“I saw the car, too. It was a Chevy Impala. Late 2000s, I believe. Definitely after ’05. It was black as night, but I recognized those headlights.”
Cole nodded, writing everything down. “Thank you, sir. Anything else?”
The woman who had spoken earlier stepped forward again. “He was smiling when it went up,” she said, her voice shaking. “A sinister smile while watching the flames.”
“Smiling? Like it brought him joy?” Cole asked, his concern creeping into his voice.
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“Yes, exactly like that. Joyfully sinister.”
Cole’s stomach turned. He scribbled the words down, his pen shaking slightly as he wrote. He was familiar with that kind of smile—the kind that sent shivers down your spine. His mind reeled for a moment, the image of that smile lingering in his thoughts. He glanced at Evan, who had joined them now.
“Thanks, ma’am,” Cole said, his voice tight. “Officers should be here soon. They’ll want to speak with you.”
He turned and walked back to Evan. As they made their way back to the truck, Cole jotted one final word in his notepad. It felt like a warning, like something he didn’t want to face but knew he had to.
Pyromaniac?
Evan walked over to him, stretching his arms. “Not much, but it’s a start. Black car, young adult, doesn’t narrow it down much.”
“How many black Impalas do you think there are in Ashford? Between ''06 and 2010?” Cole asked, thinking out loud.
Evan scratched his head. “Black Impalas that belong to a young adult? Not many.”
Cole’s mind flashed to the car that had cut him off earlier that morning at the old factory. It had been a black Impala. Between 2005 and 2010. The same make, the same color.
But the thought barely had time to settle before another pushed it aside—one far darker.
“We might have a bigger problem here,” Cole said, his voice heavy with concern. “I think our arsonist is a pyromaniac.”
Evan froze for a moment, processing. “A pyromaniac? What makes you think that?”
“A lady over there said she saw him smiling at the flames,” Cole explained. “She described it as a ‘joyfully sinister’ smile.”
Evan’s gaze turned toward the flames, which were finally starting to dwindle, their crackling subsiding. Engine 1 had arrived to assist, and the police had begun cordoning off the area.
“God help us all if this is just the beginning,” Evan said quietly.
Cole didn’t answer, his thoughts already racing ahead. The idea of facing a pyromaniac—someone who didn’t just set fires to destroy property but to derive pleasure from the destruction—made his stomach churn. The night was far from over, and they still had so much to figure out.
The fire was almost under control now. They stayed a little longer, helping out where they could, but they headed back to the station when it became clear that the situation was stable.
“First thing tomorrow, we’ll go out and investigate,” Cole said, still lost in thought.
Evan yawned as he leaned back in his seat. “Think we’re gonna find anything?”
“I doubt it,” Cole said, his eyes narrowing. “The fire was too intense. It’s most likely burned away any clues. But we can’t leave anything to chance.”
“Why don’t we just get Billy and Willy to handle it? It’s one in the morning,” Evan muttered.
Cole smirked. “Because Billy and Will,” he emphasized the names, “have their own district to cover. We’ll take care of this one.”
“I know. It’s just gonna suck after a late night like this.”
Cole didn’t respond, his thoughts already lingering on the growing dread in his chest. They drove the rest of the way in silence, the hum of the engine only underscoring the tension that weighed heavily on him.
As they drove, Cole noticed that the silence between them felt heavier than usual. As the drive back stretched on, Cole couldn''t help but let his mind wander back to the fire. How the flames had ravaged the block. And he couldn’t stop himself from imagining the smile on the pyromaniac''s face.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and a camera caught him driving away,” Evan said, his voice breaking the quiet.
Cole nodded absently, his mind still on the fire and the crowd. The woman who had described the smile as ‘joyfully sinister.’ He could picture it now: those eyes full of joy, reflecting the fire in them, watching the destruction unfold, the house consumed.
He felt a tightness in his chest and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a chill running down his spine from the image. It’s just a fire. Just another arson case, he thought to himself. But what if it’s something worse?
He couldn’t shake it. Something about this fire, about the smile, felt… different.
As they continued their drive back to the station, Cole couldn''t seem to shake the feeling of unease gnawing at him. The image of the fire, the destructive power, the people watching, and especially that woman’s description of the man’s smile… it kept replaying in his mind, like a broken record. The man had enjoyed it. That sinister joy he found in watching the flames consume everything, in seeing the chaos unfold—it wasn’t something Cole could easily forget.
Evan’s voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. “We’ll find something tomorrow. It’s gonna be a long day, but at least we’ve got some leads. We’ll track down that Impala, check out some cameras, see if we can find more witnesses.”
Cole nodded absently. He hoped Evan was right. But something told him they wouldn’t find what they were looking for. Or maybe they would, but it would be worse than they imagined. What kind of person finds joy in destruction?
The silence that followed seemed even more oppressive than before. Cole stole a glance at Evan. His partner had his hands resting on his lap, eyes half-closed, probably too tired to even think. But Cole couldn’t stop thinking. His mind was racing, building theories, piecing together things that didn’t quite add up.
As they neared the station, the familiar glow of the building’s lights was a small comfort. The end of their shift was finally in sight. They pulled into the parking lot, the truck’s tires making a soft squeal as it slid into place. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of smoke from the fire still lingering in Cole’s nostrils.
They got out of the truck and made their way toward the door.
“You going straight to bed?” Evan asked, pulling his jacket tighter against the chill.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Cole muttered. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
Evan gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah, me too. It’s gonna be a long night for both of us.”
Cole paused before pushing open the door, looking back at the truck. The night had already taken its toll, and even though the fire was under control, the unanswered questions lingered like the smoke.
Inside, the station was quieter than usual. Only a few of the other crew members were milling about, finishing up their reports or grabbing a late-night snack from the break room. It was a stark contrast to the chaos they''d just left behind. Cole’s mind was still on the fire, the explosion, the unsettling feeling of being watched as the inferno grew.
“Hey, Cole!” one of the other firefighters called out, a cheerful smile on his face. It was short-lived when he saw the look on Cole’s face. “What’s up? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Cole muttered, absently rubbing at his temples. The headache from the stress was starting to take root, but the thought of sleep still eluded him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Evan said, slapping Cole on the back. “Get some rest, alright? We’ve got a lot of work ahead.”
Cole watched as Evan disappeared into the hallway. He wanted to get some rest, too, but his mind wouldn’t let him.
He walked over to his desk, sitting down heavily in the chair, and pulled out the notebook from earlier. The word Pyromaniac? stared back at him, unsettling and accusatory. Was he jumping to conclusions? Maybe he was, but something about the way the witnesses described the fire, the way the man had smiled at the flames, didn’t sit right.
He ran his fingers over the page, then pushed the notebook aside with a sigh. The office was still, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound in the room. He let his gaze drift out the window, looking at the empty streets outside.
What was the pyromaniac trying to say? Was he sending a message, like Cole had thought? And if so, what kind of message was it?
Cole leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, fighting the urge to sleep. His mind was still spinning, but it was the same thought that kept popping up, no matter how hard he tried to push it away.
What if this is just the beginning?
It didn’t help that every time he closed his eyes, he could still see the flames. They burned so brightly, and for a second, in the midst of all that destruction, Cole thought he saw a face—a figure in the shadows, hidden by the smoke. But it wasn’t the firemen. It wasn’t the people trying to save the houses.
No, this figure had been watching the fire. Watching it burn with that sick smile.
Cole shook his head, forcing the image out. He needed sleep. They had a full day ahead of them tomorrow, and the last thing he needed was to stay up worrying about the man behind the flames.
With a deep breath, Cole finally let his head rest on the desk. He closed his eyes, but the uneasy feeling remained. He didn’t know who the arsonist was, but he was sure of one thing.
He wouldn’t stop until he found him.