The buildings changed, but the smells remained the same. Electrical fires seasoned the air with a metallic taste with a hint of ozone. Depending on the chemicals combining in the high temperatures, the smell went from spicy to caustic sealing airways and burning the sensitive tissues of one’s eyes, nasal passages and lungs.
Soot was a black powdery substance that consisted of formless carbon matter produced by the incomplete burning of organic matter. For Willow, it smelled like rotting tears. Runnels of the black substance ran down the walls like blood. The charred remains reminded Willow of the eventual. All life could be reduced to two substances: carbon and tears.
Willow made her way past some firemen that were dousing a hot spot. They waved with their thick gloved hands.
“Good to have you home, Willow. Your dad will be real glad to see you.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
“You be careful back there. We got the hot spots but that don’t mean the flooring is still sound. We preserved the barricade and Eggert got the nail samples you requested.”
“Understood. Thanks Sam.”
Willow ventured further back and opened her bag. Taking samples was a careful process that took time and patience. Matisse snuffled around doing his own investigation as she laid out her supplies. She trained her flashlight on the charred walls as she searched around for any telltale signs of pooling or flashpoints from electrical sockets. She opened a switchblade and moved over to the wall. After scraping at the soot, she found there and smelling the blade, she retraced her steps through the sodden mess as she counted off the order in which each sample had to be collected. Willow was in the middle of her count when she heard Matisse make a low guttural sound that alerted her to an intruder. The man from the club made his way into the room.
“What are you doing in here?” she said. “Get out!”
“I thought someone should be in here with you.”
“Matisse is here. Why am I even talking to you? You are trampling all over my evidence. In case you haven’t noticed this is a crime scene.”
“It’s too dangerous in here. Something could cave in on you.”
Willow stood and picked her way over to him.
“Already did—an entire skyscraper, in fact. Tower Two World Trade Center. I was there for a seminar on body recoveries. Who knew, right? Took them 27 hours and 13 minutes to find me—and that old thing over there led the hunt. Didn’t you, Matisse?”
The dog walked over to her and sniffed her hand. She stooped down and buried her face in the side of his neck.
“Stayed over what should have been my grave just howling. What a sweet sound that was.” Matisse nuzzled her face and swiped her face with his tongue. Willow giggled and scratched the dog behind his ear.
The color drained from his face. Willow gripped his bicep and flashed her pin light in his eyes.
“You sure you’re okay? You don’t look right. Sam!? Tommy? Somebody get an EMT in here. Let’s get you back outside.” She tugged on his arm and moved toward the door.
Shrugging her off Davis backed away. “Would you stop? I told you I was fine.”
“Actually, you didn’t. You were too busy commenting on things that were none of your business.”
He folded his arms and stepped back and sized her up once more.
“Which one—the black and blue on your arm or your ribs. None of them should be your business. Are your ribs broken or cracked?”
“Who told...? Claire. Doesn’t matter. Kyle’s angry with me because I wouldn’t accept his marriage proposal. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Kyle, is it? Kyle who?” His voice grew murderously quiet.
“You wouldn’t know him and besides, like I said, it’s none of your business.” Willow moved away and continued to collect her samples.
“I know a lot of people. What’s his last name? “He glanced sharply around at the mess and moved to follow her.
“Stay where you are. You’re only going to mess up your clothes or get yourself hurt. What’s your first name?”
“You could get hurt.”
“Why should you care? “He searched the floor for some safe place to step then took in a frustrated breath. “Cracked or broken? You never said. Look, would you stay still for a minute? If this floor caves in, or the ceiling...”
“Again, not your concern.” Willow moved further away from him.
“I lost a friend of mine tonight in this fire,” he said quietly. “This place shouldn’t claim anyone else.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. All the more reason for you to be outside. There may be more bodies or parts in the debris.” Willow turned and took a step toward him, then thought better of it.
“They already carried him out. Layton said he died of smoke inhalation.” He looked over at her scraping something onto a slide before she rose to her feet.
Willow swiped her forehead, leaving a smear of soot, and he winced. “In cases like these, it happens fast.” She retraced her steps over to him
“Don’t... please.”
“I could tell you that your friend didn’t suffer, but in the grand scheme nothing I say is going to make you feel any better tonight. Go back outside. I’ll be done here in a while.” Willow reached for him again and he backed away.
“I’m not leaving you in here.”
“I’m fine, no need to concern yourself.” She moved to turn away and he took a step, blocking her in.
“I’m not leaving you in here.” He took the sleeve of his shirt and wiped at the soot on her forehead.
Willow tilted her head and looked up at him again. There was something familiar in his touch and the way his gaze lingered over her features. She blinked rapidly as she tried to conquer her involuntary reaction to the gentle, loving way he looked down at her.
And then she wasn’t in the burned out remains anymore. Willow was standing on the back porch of her parents’ home. She was sixteen and in love. One minute her soulmate was wiping rain drops from her forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. The next she was on the pavement outside of the movie theater. Her legs were broken. Her palms were burning from having dragged herself across the pavement and up onto the curb. His blood dribbled through her fingers as she tried to hold his face together.
Willow flinched and took an involuntary step backward. Her legs made contact with a burned-out bar stool as she started to fall. He easily closed the space and slipped an arm around her waist to steady her. Suddenly, instead of bitter tears, Willow was enveloped in the warm manly scent of him.
“Do I know you?” she said clutching at his shoulder to steady herself.
“You called me a stranger outside.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“If you and I knew each other... neither one of us would be able to forget.” Davis steered her away from the broken furniture to a place at his side before releasing her.
“Oh, really?”
“Are your ribs cracked or broken? The air quality in here isn’t the best. You shouldn’t be in here either.” He said as Sam and other firemen came into the room.
“Willow you okay?” Sam said as both firemen looked back and forth between the couple.
“We’re fine Sam. Thanks for checking on us.” Davis said as both men looked at one another before looking over at Willow.
She nodded once and they left. “Two cracked, three broken. And since I’m the world’s worst patient, they are slow to heal. Car accident. My ex lost control of his Benz on a rain slicked road. He came out with scratches. They came in after me with the jaws of life.” She stepped out of his personal space, cringing inwardly at the loss of him.
“What kind of asshole drives fast on a rain slick road?”
The whole argument started over his clumsy attempt to kiss her goodnight. No sooner had she ducked and dodged and reminded him of the office policy on fraternizing her phone rang. Instead of waiting for Beth he insisted on bringing her to the scene. Kyle said something odd before he lost control of the car and they slammed into the jersey wall.
“Same one I refused a ring from tonight. Bloodied his nose too. Since I can’t seem to get rid of you, make yourself useful. See that flashlight in my bag?” She purposely picked her way around him.
“Yeah.” Davis snagged the flashlight sticking out of the top of her kit and thumbed the switch. He winced at the high beam that bathed everything around her in bright white light.
“Pan it over this way so I can skulk around and get you back to safety.”
Willow couldn’t shake the conflicting emotions that played across his face. At one point his dark eyes reflected the tortured disbelief of someone lost in grief, but for whom? She wasn’t quite sure, but the way he kept trying to clean away the soot from her face, she could have sworn that the grief had something to do with her.
She shook her head and looked down and away to see Matisse snuffling and digging at some debris in the corner. Willow walked over and picked up a wooden beam in her gloved hands and moved it out of her way. She stooped down just as the harsh white light cast her shadow on the remains of a wall.
“Sandalwood and jasmine,” she said. “Wait—pan it over here some more. I think I may have a source. I need to get it back to trace to see if it matches the others.”
“Others? So, it could be the same person?”
“I try not to make judgments at first blush.” She glanced over her shoulder at him then down at his shoes. “What a waste.”
He glanced down at his shoes and smiled. “Which one, the shoes or me?”