Twenty-five minutes later, Lena guided her cruiser up the winding access road toward Ashford's property, keeping Erin's fire department SUV visible in her rearview mirror. The convoy moved in tactical formation—police vehicles, fire trucks, and support units spread across the narrow mountain road.
The first lights of dawn filtered through the pine trees, casting long shadows across asphalt. Lena's radio crackled with periodic check-ins from Julia, but otherwise the morning held an unnatural stillness.
"Team leaders, approach the staging area," Julia's voice came through clear and calm. "Maintain radio discipline."
The road opened into a cleared area about three hundred yards from Ashford's property line. Lena parked and stepped out, immediately taking in the layout: main house sitting on a gentle rise and office building positioned lower and to the south.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
No movement around the buildings. No lights in the windows despite the early hour. No vehicle visible in the driveway, though the closed garage door could hide anything.
Erin approached from her SUV, already suited in fire-resistant gear, helmet tucked under her arm. "Visual assessment from here?"
Lena nodded, pulling out binoculars. The main house came into focus. It was well-maintained with professional landscaping, the kind of place that belonged to someone who cared about appearances. The office building looked newer, probably constructed after Ashford had started his consulting business.
"There’s smoke," Erin said quietly beside her.
"Where?"
"Office building. Look at the roofline."
Lena adjusted her focus. There—thin gray wisps rising from somewhere near the back of the building. Not heavy smoke, not the black billowing of a full blaze, but definitely smoke.
Something in her gut twisted into knots. "He's destroying evidence."
Julia's voice crackled over the radio. "Team leaders, we have visual confirmation of smoke from the target structure. Fire Marshal Vance, your assessment?"
Erin keyed her radio. "Light smoke visible from the exterior. Could be document destruction or early-stageaccelerant ignition. Recommend immediate approach for scene evaluation."
"Copy that. Moving to operational positions now."
The convoy shifted into motion. Lena felt adrenaline sharpen her senses—awareness heightening, everything else dropping away except the immediate situation.
She and Erin moved with the advance team toward the property perimeter. Through her earpiece, she heard the coordinated chatter: thermal imaging from tactical, perimeter security establishing containment, fire crew preparing hazmat protocols.
"Detective Soto," Julia's voice in her ear, "do you have visual on the main house?"
Lena scanned the windows through her binoculars. "No movement visible, curtains drawn, and no indication of occupancy."
"What about the target structure?"
Erin was already moving toward the building, the equipment pack secure on her back. "Approaching for assessment now. The smoke is definitely accelerant-based. I can smell the chemical signatures from here."
Lena's pulse quickened. Accelerants meant Ashford was either destroying evidence or preparing for something worse. She activated her radio. "Julia, he knew we were coming. This isn't random timing."
"Agreed. Treat this as an active threat situation. The suspect is considered armed and extremely dangerous."
Erin had reached the office building and was circling it slowly, instruments detecting whatever her trained senses couldn't pick up from distance. Lena watched her work, every muscle in her body wanting to follow and provide backup.
Trust her expertise. Let her do her job.
"Fire Marshal to command," Erin's voice came through the radio. "Chemical accelerants confirmed. The building structure appears stable, but I'm reading elevated temperature readings from the interior. Someone's been busy inside."
"Any visual on Ashford?" Julia asked.
"Negative. But the accelerant pattern suggests recent activity. Very recent."
Lena scanned the property again, her eyes flitting from the basement entrance to the main house, storage shed behind trees, anywhere someone could hide or escape.
