"Will we?" Erin slammed the truck's tailgate shut with more force than necessary. "That Martin guy walked out of that interrogation room smirking, and now we've got two body bags. How many more will we have before we find whoever's pulling his strings?"
The parking lot had mostly emptied, leaving them in the relative privacy of the late evening. Lena knew she should say something professional about leads and investigations and patient police work. Instead, she found herself staring at Erin's hands, remembering how they'd shaken slightly when she'd pulled off those protective gloves.
"You were ten feet from that building," Lena said quietly.
"That's the job." Erin's response was automatic, defensive.
"The job nearly got you killed today. If that wind had shifted?—"
"But it didn't." Erin turned to face her fully, arms crossed. "Lena, I've been doing this for six years. I know how to assess the risks and get out before anything bad happens."
"Risk assessment doesn't matter when you're dealing with someone who's escalating to extremes." The words came out sharper than Lena intended. "Magnesium powder, industrial solvents…this guy's trying to kill people now."
"Which is exactly why my analysis was crucial." Erin's voice carried the edge of someone who'd had this argument before. "Those firefighters needed to know what they were dealing with before they could mount an effective response safely."
"Someone else could have?—"
"Who?" Erin stepped closer, her eyes flashing. "Who else in Phoenix Ridge has training in chemical fire analysis? Who else could have identified those compounds quickly enough to prevent more deaths?"
Lena knew Erin was right. Logically, she understood that Erin's expertise had been essential today. But logic felt inadequate when faced with the memory of watching someone she cared about approach a building that could have collapsed or released toxic gas at any moment.
"I'm not questioning your competence," Lena said carefully. "But watching you walk toward that fire in a hazmat suit?—"
"Was you watching me do my job." Erin's tone had gone dangerously quiet. "The same job I've been doing since before we met. The same job that's kept this community safe through all these fires."
"I know that. But things are different now."
The words hung between them, loaded with everything they had been dancing around. Erin went very still.
"Different how?"
Lena felt her control slipping, the professional distance she'd tried to maintain cracking under the weight of the day's terror. "Different because I can't watch you walk into danger without—" She stopped, recognizing the dangerous territory she was entering.
"Without what, Lena?"
"Without wanting to pull you back. Without thinking about what happens if you don't come out." The admission felt like stepping off a cliff. "Today, watching you approach that inferno, all I could think about was losing you."
Erin's expression shifted, anger giving way to something more complicated. "Lena..."
"I know it's not rational. I know you're trained for this and that you're the best at it. But watching someone I—" Lena caught herself before the word “love” escaped. "Someone I care about risking their life."
"So what are you saying? That I should step back from doing my job because it makes you uncomfortable?"
"I'm saying maybe there are other ways to handle these scenes. Maybe you don't have to be the one walking toward every fire."
Erin stared at her for a long moment, and Lena could see the exact moment when hurt replaced understanding. "You want me to hide behind other people."
"I want you safe."
"Those aren't the same thing." Erin's voice had gone cold and distant. "Safe means competent people doing dangerous work with proper training and equipment. What you're describing is sidelining me because my job scares you."
"That's not?—"
"Itisexactly that." Erin turned back toward her truck, then stopped. "Two days ago at that cabin, you said you respected what I do. That you wanted to be partners."
"I do. I meant that."
"Partners don't ask each other to be less than they are to ease someone else's fear." Erin's eyes were bright with anger and something that might have been disappointment. "Partnerstrusteach other to do their jobs."
