The girl's eyes widened. "Actually, yeah. There was this guy a few weeks ago who said he worked for the city or something. He wanted to know about our safety procedures and how many people could be in the building at once. He seemed really focused on when we had the most people here."
Lena and Erin's eyes met again, this time with the sharp recognition of a real lead.
"We're going to need you to come to the station," Lena said gently. "You’re not in any trouble. We just want you to give the detectives a full statement and work with a sketch artist."
As Abigail nodded and headed toward Lena's car with a uniformed officer, Erin felt the familiar thrill of a case breaking open. But underneath it was the awareness that she and Lena were working together like partners, thinking in sync, and building off each other's questions.
The fire was contained, the scene was secured, and they had their first real witness.
But as they stood in the smoke and flashing emergency lights, Erin found herself thinking less about the arsonist and more about the woman standing beside her.
The inside of the arts center felt like a mausoleum of creativity interrupted. Costumes hung on racks like ghosts, and half-painted set pieces stood abandoned where people had left them during the evacuation. The acrid smell of smoke mixed with fabric dyes and wood glue created an atmosphere thick enough to cut.
Erin moved through the backstage area to where she was before talking with Abigail, photographing everything while Lena documented the scene from an investigative perspective. The damage was contained and messier than at the other arson sites, but still deliberate. Accelerant was poured in strategic lines that would have sent flames racing through the costume storage toward the main theater.
"They entered through the back door," Lena said, crouching near what had once been the stage manager's desk. "The lock shows signs of picking, not breaking."
"Someone who knew what they were doing." Erin aimed her camera at the burn patterns on the floor, noting how they radiated from three distinct points. "Look at this placement. They understood exactly how flames would travel through this space."
They were working in a rhythm now, their morning breakthrough about community targeting making everything click into place.
"Erin." Lena's voice was sharp. "Over here."
Erin turned to find Lena examining something behind a rack of period costumes. She squeezed through the narrow space, her shoulder brushing Lena's arm as she leaned in to see what had caught the detective's attention.
"It’s a timing device," Lena said, pointing to the remains of what looked like a digital clock mechanism. "More complex than anything we've seen before."
As Erin studied the melted plastic and exposed wires, her senses sharpened. "This isn’t the work of an amateur. Someone's been refining their technique."
They were standing closer than necessary in the narrow aisle between costume racks, the investigation requiring them to examine the same small area. Erin could feel warmth radiating from Lena's body and caught the faint scent of her perfume beneath the smoke damage.
"The accelerant pattern suggests they had at least fifteen minutes to set this up," Erin said, forcing herself to focus on the evidence instead of the way Lena's breathing had changed. "But Abigail saw them leaving in a hurry."
"Which means something spooked them." Lena shifted to get a better angle on the timing device, her hand bracing against the wall inches from Erin's shoulder.
Erin nodded, though part of her attention was drawn to how naturally they worked together in the confined space. The detective's focused intensity when working a scene was impressive in ways that went beyond professional competence.
"We need to bag this and get it to forensics," Lena said, reaching for an evidence container from her kit.
As she turned, her body moved closer to Erin’s, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
"Detective Soto?" a voice called from the main theater. "We've got something out here."
The spell broke and Lena stepped back, professional distance reasserting itself like a protective barrier. "Coming," she called back, then looked at Erin. "You should come and see this too."
They emerged from the backstage maze to find Officer Sofia Martinez standing near the front row of theater seats, holding up a baseball cap.
"We found this under the seats," Sofia said. "Recent sweat stains, and the hat doesn't match any of the costumes or props."
Lena pulled on latex gloves and examined the cap, turning it over. "Navy blue, adjustable back, no logo." She looked up at Erin. "You think our arsonist dropped it when they heard the alarm?"
"It makes sense with Abigail's description," Erin said.
"We'll test for DNA and see if we get lucky." Lena sealed the cap in an evidence bag, then glanced around the theater space. "This place would have been full of teenagers if the fire had spread."
The weight of that possibility settled between them. Erin looked at the rows of empty seats, imagining them filled with the kids she'd seen outside—young people who used this space as refuge.
"The attacks are becoming more dangerous," she said quietly.
