“And you and Fire Marshal Vance were able to coordinate effectively on that assessment?”
The question carried weight beyond its words. Lena caught sight of Erin across the scene, standing stiffly while Captain Hallie Hunter spoke in low, urgent tones. Even from a distance, Erin's rigid posture suggested she was receiving a similar conversation.
"We have different approaches," Lena said carefully.
"Different approaches are fine. Public arguments about those approaches are not." Julia's voice remained quiet, but the authority underneath was unmistakable. "This is a high-profile case, Lena. The press is already asking questions about interdepartmental coordination."
As if summoned by her words, camera flashes lit up the perimeter where reporters had gathered behind the police tape. Lena could see microphones being thrust toward anyone willing to comment, questions being shouted about the investigation's progress.
"I understand."
"Do you?" Julia studied her face in the flashing emergency lights. "Because from where I stood, it looked like you were letting your personal conflicts interfere with your work."
The accusation stung because it was true. Lena's frustration with Erin had gotten personal, moving beyond professional disagreement into stubborn conflict. The way Erin challenged her and refused to back down made her feel off-kilter.
"It won't happen again," Lena said.
Julia nodded, but her expression remained concerned. "See that it doesn't. We need this case solved, not complicated by personality conflicts."
Around them, the cleanup continued—hoses being rolled, equipment loaded—the controlled wind-down of emergency operations. But Lena was acutely aware of the watching eyes, the whispered conversations, and the way her colleagues were reassessing her reputation.
She glanced toward Erin again and found her looking back. For just a moment, their eyes connected, and Lena saw her own embarrassment reflected there. They'd both crossed a line tonight and let their conflict become a public spectacle.
The exhaustion hit her all at once as her adrenaline crashed after hours of the high-stakes investigation. Her shoulders ached from tension, her throat was raw from smoke, and somewhere underneath it all was the nagging awareness that she'd handled this badly.
Erin turned away first, heading toward the fire department vehicles. Lena watched her go, noting the set of her shoulders and the careful distance she maintained from the other firefighters.
They'd found crucial evidence tonight and made real progress on the case. But they'd also created a professional mess that would follow them both throughout the case.
As Lena headed toward her car, she could feel the weight of judgment from both departments. Tomorrow would promise meetings, explanations, and pressure to resolve their differences for the good of the investigation.
But tonight, she was too exhausted to think about any of that. Tonight, she just needed to get away from the scene, from the whispers, and from the complicated mess she'd helped create.
Lena sat in her car outside The Daily Grind, knowing she should go home but unable to face the quiet of her empty house. The twenty-four-hour coffee shop glowed warmly through its plate glass windows, a refuge for insomniacs and shift workers in downtown Phoenix Ridge. Steam rose from her breath in the cooling night air as she finally forced herself out of the car and through the door.
The bell chimed softly, and she caught the scent of fresh coffee cutting through the smoke residue that clung to her clothes. A young barista looked up from cleaning the espresso machine, recognition flickering across her face.
“I saw you on the news,” she said quietly. “The library fire. Coffee’s on the house tonight.”
Lena nodded her thanks and ordered a large black coffee, settling into a corner booth where she could decompress without being watched. The café was nearly empty—just a delivery driver grabbing caffeine and an older man reading a novel at the counter. Jazz played softly from hidden speakers, something mellow with piano that matched the dim lighting.
She'd been sitting there maybe ten minutes when the bell chimed again.
Erin Vance stepped through the door, still in her uniform pants and department t-shirt, hair damp from washing off the smoke. She moved with the same exhaustion Lena felt, shoulders slightly slumped, the careful control of someone running on fumes.
Their eyes met across the small space, and for a moment neither moved. Then Erin approached the counter, ordered something complicated with extra foam, and stood there clearly debating whether to acknowledge Lena's presence.
Lena made the decision for both of them. "Can't sleep either?"
Erin turned, studying her for a long moment before walking over. "Mind if I—?" She gestured to the empty seat across from Lena.
"Go ahead."
Erin slid into the booth, cradling her mug between her hands like she needed the warmth. Up close, Lena could see the exhaustion etched in her face, the way her usual intensity had softened into something more vulnerable.
They sat in uncomfortable silence for several beats, the weight of their earlier conflicts hanging between them. Outside, late-night traffic whispered past, and the espresso machine hissed periodically as the barista continued cleaning.
"Your investigative work tonight was solid," Erin said finally, her voice quieter than usual. "The way you connected the timing device to the accelerant patterns was thorough."
