"Is it?" Lena slammed the car door harder than necessary. "Because it feels like we're spinning our wheels while this bastard plans his next fire."
They drove back toward Phoenix Ridge in silence, the late afternoon sun dappling the sky the color of flames. There were four fires, too many potential suspects, and a community growing more frightened every day. Lena had built her career on solving cases and protecting people. This investigation was making her feel helpless, and she hated it.
"I need a drink," she said as they passed Lavender's.
"It's barely seven," Erin pointed out, but Lena was already pulling into the parking lot.
Lavender's evening crowd was settling in—couples sharing quiet conversations, regulars nursing craft beers, and soft acoustic music that made everything feel temporarily safe. Lavender herself greeted them with raised eyebrows.
"You two look like you've been through a blender," she said, leading them to a corner table. "Wine?"
"Please," Lena said.
Lavender returned with a bottle of red and two glasses, then walked away without probing further. The wine was good, dry and warming. Lena drank half her glass in three swallows.
"Better?" Erin asked.
"No." Lena stared into her wine. "We're failing, Erin. Every day we don't catch this person is another day someone could die."
"We're building a profile and gathering evidence. It takes time."
"Tell that to whoever's going to be in the next burning building." Lena's voice was sharper than she intended. "Tell that to the kids who lost their community space or to the people who can't feel safe in their own neighborhood."
Erin's eyes flashed. "What else do you want us to do? We're following every lead and interviewing every possible connection. We can't manufacture evidence that doesn't exist."
"Maybe that's the problem." Lena leaned forward. "Maybe we're too focused on following, not anticipating."
"Anticipating what? The arsonist hasn't left us a roadmap, Lena. We have to work with what we have."
"Do we?" Lena's frustration boiled over. "Because what we have isn't working. After four fires and dozens of hours investigating, we're no closer to catching this person than we were when this started."
"That's not true?—"
“Isn’t it?” Lena stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “We keep telling ourselves we’re making progress, but what if we’re just chasing our tails? What if we’re missing something obvious because we’re too busy being systematic?”
Erin stood, too, matching her intensity. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re the one who wanted to wait for evidence instead of following hunches, remember?”
Erin’s words hit home. Lena had dismissed Erin’s instincts early on, insisting on proper procedure, and refused to consider theories without proof. Now, their careful approach felt like watching the city burn in slow motion.
“Maybe I was wrong,” Lena said, her voice dropping lower. “Maybe we should have?—”
“Should havewhat?” Erin said as she stepped closer, close enough that Lena could see the gold flecks in her eyes. “Followed every wild theory? Arrested people without evidence? That’s not how this works.”
“Then maybe the way this works is broken.”
They were standing too close now, their voices raised but not quite shouting. Other patrons were giving them space,pretending not to watch the obvious tension crackling between them.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Lena said.
The words hung in the air, ambiguous and loaded. Erin’s expression shifted, confusing replacing anger.
“Do what, Lena? Your job? Work with me?” Erin’s voice dropped to match hers. “Because if this partnership isn’t working…”
“No, it’s not—” Lena stopped, frustrated with herself, with the case, with everything. “I can’t keep…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t find the words for the way Erin challenged her, made her question everything, made her feel off-balance in ways that had nothing to do with the investigation.
“Keep what?” Erin whispered.
