"Good. Because if this lead pans out..." Lena's voice carried an edge of urgency that Erin hadn't heard before.
"We’ll call for backup if we find anything concrete. That’s proper protocol," Erin said firmly.
"I know that." Lena's response was quick, perhaps too quick. "But if we do find evidence of accelerant storage, if this cabin is really being used as a base of operations..."
"Then we call for backup and wait for tactical support." Erin kept her voice steady.
"Of course. Protocol."
But Erin could see the tension in Lena's shoulders and the way her knuckles had gone white against the steering wheel. This wasn't limited to professional concern about the case anymore. This was personal worry, the kind that could make someone do something stupid.
"The GPS says we're about ten minutes out," Lena said, her voice returning to its normal professional tone.
Erin nodded, closing her notebook and returning it to her bag. Ten minutes until they reached Pine Ridge Cabins. Tenminutes until they began what could become an overnight stakeout in a remote mountain location.
She'd done plenty of solo surveillance work before and spent countless hours documenting fire scenes and analyzing evidence in isolation. But this felt different. Not just because of Lena's presence, but because of what that presence meant—the shift from professional collaboration to something more personal, something more complicated.
They had created a pattern that had started almost by accident but had quickly become something she looked forward to, something that felt natural despite how new it was.
Now they were about to spend their first night together on official business, in a one-room cabin with surveillance equipment and case files instead of takeout containers and comfortable conversation. The professional and personal sides of whatever they were building were about to collide.
"There," Lena pointed ahead to a wooden sign barely visible through the trees. "Pine Ridge Cabins. Population: us and whoever might be using cabin twelve for arson planning."
Erin smiled despite the tension. "Let's hope it's just us."
But as they turned off the main road onto the gravel access path, she found herself wondering if an empty cabin would be more complicated than a suspect. At least with a suspect, they'd have something clear to focus on.
With just the two of them, a small space, and an entire night ahead, there would be nowhere to hide from the conversation they'd been dancing around since Tuesday morning.
The gravel road wound through increasingly dense forest before opening into a small clearing dotted with rustic cabins. Pine Ridge Cabins looked exactly like what Erin had expected: a collection of weathered wooden structures scattered among towering evergreens, each one designed for privacy and isolation. Perfect for families wanting to disconnect from theworld…or for someone planning arson attacks without curious neighbors.
“There’s the office,” Lena said, pointing to a larger building near the entrance with a hand-painted sign. “Cabin twelve should be…” She consulted the map they’d printed at the police station. “Third row back, southeast corner.”
Erin studied the layout as they drove slowly through the campground. Most of the cabins appeared empty, which made sense for a Wednesday afternoon in early autumn. A few showed signs of occupancy—cars parked outside, smoke from chimneys, and camping chairs littering small porches—the kind of peaceful retreat atmosphere that would make any unusual activity stand out.
“And our cabin?”
“Right here.” Lena pulled up beside a small structure about a hundred yards from cabin twelve, perfectly positioned for surveillance. “Cabin nine.”
Erin’s first impression as she climbed out of the car was the silence. After the constant hum of Phoenix Ridge with its traffic, sirens, and city life, the mountain quiet felt almost overwhelming. Pine scent filled the air, sharp and clean, mixing with the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the faint woodsmoke from occupied cabins.
Their surveillance cabin was basic but functional: one room with a stone fireplace, a kitchenette, and a bathroom barely large enough to turn around in. And dominating the small space, impossible to ignore, was a single bed covered with a faded quilt.
Erin caught Lena’s quick glance at the bed, then her immediate focus on literally anything else.
“Good sight lines,” Lena said, moving to the window that faced cabin twelve. “We can see the front door, the parking area, and any foot traffic.”
“And the tree cover gives us good concealment.” Erin set her equipment bag on the small table, trying to match Lena’s professional tone. “Let me get the thermal imaging set up.”
They worked efficiently, unpacking surveillance gear and establishing their observation post. Erin positioned her thermal imaging equipment to detect any heat signatures around cabin twelve, while Lena set up cameras with telephoto lenses and tested their radio communication with the station. The familiar routine of preparation helped maintain the illusion that this was just another case, just another stakeout.
But the small space made every movement feel significant. When Lena reached past her to adjust a camera angle, Erin was aware of her warmth and subtle scent of her shampoo. When she leaned over to check the thermal readings, Erin felt Lena’s gaze like a physical presence.
“Target acquired,” Lena said, now peering through the binoculars. “Cabin twelve, lights are on. I can see movement inside, but nothing is clear enough to identify.”
Erin moved to the window, accepting the binoculars Lena handed to her. Through the lenses, cabin twelve looked ordinary—a bit more isolated than most of the other cabins, positioned at the edge of the tree line, but there was nothing obviously suspicious about it. “Any vehicles?”
“A dark pickup truck parked behind the cabin that’s concealed by trees, but I got a partial plate.”
