Tori shivered, wondering why this place seemed even more desolate in the light of the morning than it had in the darkness of the previous night.
But they were back to the same crime scene, the abandoned gas station and green patch where Amber Rydel was captured and killed. They needed a new lead, a clue, anything, and Javi and Tori both hoped the light of dawn might reveal something new.
The first rays of the sunlight splintered through the haze, bathing the devastation in an otherworldly light. Tori and Javi stepped out of their unmarked car, the crunch of blackened debris underfoot breaking the haunting silence that clung to the aftermath of the wildfire. The air was still thick with a faint tang of smoke, and the horizon looked like it had been smudged by a giant, careless hand.
"Feels like stepping into a charcoal drawing," Javi murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though afraid to disturb the eerie calm.
Tori didn't respond, her senses already sharpening to the task at hand. The morning sun cast a deceptive tranquility over the scene, shadows playing tricks on the eye, but Tori's vision pierced through the illusion. This was not a place of tranquility.
Ahead, she spotted where the forensics unit was still processing the scene where the body had been found. Others were moving in and out of the half-burntgas-station under the supervision of nearby firefighters.
Tori and Javi veered away from the building they'd searched the previous night, instead heading straight for the clearing where the body had been found.
Amber Rydel’s corpse has been removed the previous night when they’d called it in. They’d learned all they could at the scene, now they needed to wait on the coroner’s assessment.
With methodical precision, Tori began to sweep the perimeter. Each step was measured, each breath deliberate. The scorched earth told a story of fury unleashed, nature's wrath leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. Yet, amid the chaos, Tori searched for order — the kind of order that only human intervention could imprint upon the randomness of a natural disaster.
Javi watched as Tori paused, her body tensing. There was a shift in the air, a disturbance so subtle that only someone with her training would notice. It was not the wind, not the settling ash — it was something else. She noticed the way the clearing was like a dot of white in an ashy sea.
She frowned, glancing towards the building. Surely the wind would’ve shielded the clearing… so why…
She trailed off, her mind racing.
"Anything?" Javi called out, his voice low, respecting both the gravity of the scene and Tori's concentration.
"Patterns," she replied, her focus unwavering. "Patterns that don't match the path of the fire. Here, there..." She gestured to incongruities invisible to the untrained eye, but to her, they were glaring beacons, potential evidence crying out amidst the silence.
The sun climbed higher, its glow less eerie now, more assertive, as if to challenge the darkness that had consumed the land. Yet, the light was an ally to Tori, revealing secrets that the night had tried to keep. As she moved, every cell in her body was attuned to the task, dissecting the remnants of the wildfire, searching for the anomaly that would lead them to the answer that lay hidden beneath the ashes.
Tori’s gaze snagged on an anomaly, a stroke of green amidst a palette of black and gray. There, nestled in the crook of a tree that had somehow defied the inferno, was a small shelter. It clung to life halfway up the trunk, its existence a stark impossibility against the fire's indiscriminate wrath.
"Javi," she called out softly, her tone a blend of intrigue and urgency. "Up there. See it?"
Javi followed her pointing finger, his eyes widening slightly. "How did that...?"
"Got me," Tori murmured, already moving towards the tree. Her mind raced with questions as she reached the base, her fingers brushing over the charred bark. The structure looked rudimentary, crafted with a survivalist's ingenuity.
She hesitated, her pulse quickening. This could be nothing, a coincidence. Or it could be the lair of someone with something to hide, someone who might have seen what they were not meant to see.
She studied the odd structure, her head tilting. How had it avoided the flames’ wrath? A nearby stream trickled through the undergrowth… The water would’ve offered a sort of barricade against the spreading flames.
Was that the source of the clearing as well?
What were the odds of finding a body and a makeshift tree shelter in the same clearing?
Pretty high if they were connected somehow.
With a steadying breath, Tori found her footing and began to climb. Each movement was deliberate, a silent prayer that the weakened branches would hold her weight. She ascended, muscles tensing and relaxing in a rhythm honed by years of training.
She edged closer, her hands finding purchase on the sturdy limbs as her neck craned to see into the shelter. She peered into the shadowed interior, but could make out very little. She’d need to get in, get an arm free to look around with a light.
Tori’s hand paused at the entrance of the shelter, a barrier of hesitation before she breached the sanctity of this hidden refuge, grunting and huffing as she levered her body over the threshold and drew up her flashlight.
The first thing that struck her was the smell. It clawed at her senses, an acrid assault of human existence confined in a space too small for comfort. Sweat mingled with the musty scent of waste, painting a vivid picture in Tori's mind of a desperate occupant hiding for far too long among the branches.
“Anything?” Javi’s voice called up.
“It stinks!” she replied.
“What?” Javi tilted his head, looking up quizzically.
“I mean, it smells like someone was living in here—and didn’t bathe the whole time.”
Javi blinked up at Tori a moment, his mouth opening in silent puzzlement. “Some kind of stalker shrine?”
“Don’t know yet. Give me a minute.”
Tori knelt on the floor of the shelter, her fingers brushing over the rough texture of the wooden planks beneath her. Her eyes, those storm-churned hues of blue and gray, swept over the interior with the precision of a hawk. Every corner held potential secrets, every crevice a possible clue to who had called this place home.
Methodical in her search, she sifted through the minimal belongings. A threadbare blanket crumpled in one corner, a dented canister that once might have held water. But there were no letters, no photographs, nothing that screamed of an identity. It was as if the occupant had been a ghost, leaving behind only the echo of their presence.
"Come on, come on," she muttered under her breath.
Her search continued. Fingers trailed along seams and edges, feeling for hidden compartments, for secret stashes. Yet, the shelter yielded nothing but dust and the lingering scent of fear. Whoever had spent their nights here had left no trace, no tether to the world below.
Frustration simmered within her, a slow burn of disappointment. She needed something tangible, a lifeline to follow out of this canopy of questions. But the answers she sought remained elusive, shadows dancing just out of reach in the half-light filtering through the leaves.
With a final glance around the tiny abode, Tori acknowledged the dead end before her.
“Come on!” she insisted more furiously. It couldn’t be a dead end. Not now…
Tori crouched, the rough bark pressing into her skin, as she scanned the shelter's sparse interior one last time. Her eyes narrowed with focus. There had to be something—anything—that could speak to the identity of this enigmatic squatter.
That's when she saw it, a glint of cellophane tucked in the corner where the wall met the floorboards, half-hidden by a splintered piece of wood. It was out of place in the rustic refuge, a modern intrusion in the natural decay. Tori reached out, her movements measured and precise, and dislodged the packet from its accidental camouflage.
Her fingers closed around a crumpled pack of cigarettes, the label unfamiliar—a stark contrast to the mainstream brands that littered the shelves of every convenience store. The off-brand name, 'Redfern Smokes,' was emblazoned across the front in faded, peeling letters. This wasn't a smoker's casual discard; it was a clue, deliberate and unassuming.
"Interesting," she murmured, the word barely more than a breath stirred by the wind.
Tori's pulse thrummed in her ears as she carefully inspected the cigarette pack, turning it over in her hands. The foil seal was broken, several sticks missing. Someone had been here, nerves perhaps calmed by nicotine. But who? And had they been the one to brutally kill Amber and Rachel?
With deliberate care, Tori slipped the pack into a clear evidence bag she carried in her jacket pocket. The plastic crinkled softly as she sealed the bag, preserving the potential lead. There was no telling what forensic secrets the small cardboard container held—traces of saliva on the filter, fingerprints along the edges, or even DNA fibers caught in the creases.
For Tori, the discovery was more than just a pack of cigarettes; it was a beacon in the dark, a guiding star that promised direction in the relentless pursuit of justice. Whoever had sought refuge in this tree, amidst the devastation left by wildfire, might now unwittingly guide her to the answers she sought.
She slid down the tree, her descent careful but swift, the evidence secured. Each movement was a silent vow to not let the tragedy of the fire mask more sinister deeds. And as her boots touched the ground, Tori felt the familiar surge of determination. The chase was on.
Tori's boots crunched against the blackened earth, a stark contrast to her ashen hair that caught the morning sun like a metallic veil. The tension in her shoulders eased as she surveyed the aftermath of the fire, but the urgency within her only grew stronger. She had a lead now; the off-brand cigarettes were a whisper in the chaos, beckoning her towards the truth.
Javi had moved away from her and was speaking with a forensic tech near the gas station, indicating the wooden boards they’d found pulled free the previous night.
Tori’s eyes scanned the clearing, landing on the nearest figure.
Her gaze locked onto a local deputy standing by the perimeter tape, the morning sun at his back. He was oblivious to her approach, jotting down notes in his notepad.
"Deputy!" Her voice cut through the still air, commanding attention. The deputy turned, eyes widening slightly at the intensity emanating from the smaller woman.
"Agent Spark," he greeted, his stance shifting into one of respect mixed with caution. "What can I do for you?"
"Look at this." Tori did not waste time on pleasantries. She extended the evidence bag towards him, the pack of cigarettes visible through the plastic. "Ever seen these before? Know where they might be sold?"
The deputy leaned in, squinting at the label. His brow furrowed, a testament to the rarity of the brand. "Redfern Smokes? Can't say that I have," he admitted. "But—"
"Think, please," Tori urged, her tone softer but no less insistent. "It could be important. Anything you remember could help. You’re local, right? You see these on your beat, ever?”
He scratched his stubbled chin, considering her plea. After a moment, a flicker of recognition sparked in his eyes. "Sorry, agent. No dice. Not a smoker.” He shrugged apologetically.
She sighed, nodded and turned, looking for another potential source of information from the local LEOs.
"Wait," the deputy called out, as Tori was already pivoting on her heel. She stopped, the urgency of the investigation pulsating through her veins. He jogged a few steps to catch up to her. "My partner, he smokes like a chimney. Might know something about that brand."
Tori's gaze snapped back to him. Every second mattered, and this felt like something—a real lead in the sprawling chaos of the wildfire aftermath.
"He here?" she asked, her voice crisp.
“On the road, directing traffic.”
“Call him here, please.”
"Will do," the deputy said and reached for his radio, his thumb pressing down on the call button as Tori observed with heightened anticipation.
"Mike, you copy?" The deputy’s voice crackled through the static. Moments passed that felt like hours to Tori, who stood rooted in place, her white hair unmoving in the still morning air.
"Copy," a voice responded at last, a hint of curiosity in its tone.
"Need you at the north end, by the oak cluster. It's about your smokes."
“My what?”
“Just come.”
"Roger that." The line went dead, and the deputy looked up at Tori. "He's on his way."
"Thank you," Tori said, tucking the evidence bag into her jacket pocket. Each tick of the clock hammered against her resolve. She couldn't let the arsonist hide behind the wildfire’s veil any longer.
The wait was a silent one, charged with the electricity of what might come next.
Javi drew closer now, and she spotted him frowning in curiosity as he approached. In answer to his speculative gaze, she held up the cigarette pack.
His eyes widened in some sort of recognition as he came to a halt at her side.
But before he could speak, the sound of rustling brush directed everyone’s gaze towards the side of the road.
A man emerged, cursing as his sleeve snagged on an ashen branch.
The second deputy, a wiry man with a weathered face that spoke of years under the sun, stepped through the underbrush with purposeful strides. His gaze swept over Javi before locking onto Tori. She felt the weight of her evidence bag, heavy against her thigh, as she pulled out the pack of off-brand cigarettes and held them up for him to see.
“Mike?” she guessed.
“That’s right,” he said, his Texan accent apparent even in those two words. “Agent Sparky, right?”
“Spark,” she corrected coolly. “You know these?”
“Hmm? Not mine.”
“But do you recognize the brand?”
“Lemme see.” He stepped closer, wrinkling his nose and his brow in thought.
A second passed, and Tori felt a flicker of worry that it was going to be another dead end.
But then, his expression changed.
Recognition flickered across his features like a shadow darting through the trees. He squinted slightly, his brows furrowing as he took a step closer, eyes fixed on the crumpled packet in Tori's outstretched hand.
"Those are from Joey's," he said abruptly, voice thick with certainty. "That diner down on Carson's Bend. Brand shutdown—bankrupt—a couple years ago. Surprised they still have it.”
Tori's pulse quickened, a surge of adrenaline rushing through her at the mention of a specific location. Javi leaned in, his own interest piqued by this unexpected development. They exchanged a look, the silent communication perfected over countless cases. This was something tangible, a thread they could tug on in the sprawling web of the investigation.
"Joey's Diner," Tori repeated, rolling the name around in her mouth like a clue waiting to be deciphered. "Is it popular? Frequented by locals or just passersby?"
"Bit of both," the deputy answered with a shrug. "It's one of those spots everyone knows about. Gets its fair share of regulars, too."
"Thank you, Deputy," Javi chimed in, his tone professional but firm. "This might just be the lead we were looking for."
"Happy to help," he replied, though his eyes still held a touch of surprise at their sudden interest in what seemed to be an inconsequential detail. He didn't understand, couldn't possibly comprehend the significance of such a mundane item in the hands of someone well-versed in the language of crime scenes.
Tori nodded, her mind already racing forward, weaving through the possibilities.
"Let's go check out Joey's," Tori said, turning to Javi, the storm cloud hue of her hair catching a stray ray of sunlight. "We've got a new trail to follow."
Tori tipped her head in a brisk nod, acknowledging the deputies with a tight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Appreciate your help," she said, the words clipped by the urgency thrumming through her veins.
"Anytime," the second deputy replied, still eyeing the cigarette pack as if it held deeper secrets than he'd first assumed.
Javi gave a last cursory glance to the scarred landscape, his mind already pivoting to their next move. "Let's roll, Tori.”
Together, they strode across the blackened earth, each step crunching underfoot, serving as a stark reminder of the devastation that enveloped them. The morning sun had climbed higher now, its rays piercing through the dissipating smoke, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out towards them, beckoning them onward.
Reaching their unmarked car, Tori slid into the driver's seat, the keys jangling with her steady, deliberate movements. She caught Javi's gaze in the rearview mirror; the reflection was all sharp angles and determination.
Her fingers curled around the steering wheel, the leather cool and smooth against her skin. She turned the ignition, and the engine roared to life, a growling promise of the chase ahead. As she maneuvered the car onto the road, her thoughts were laser-focused on the diner the deputy had mentioned. Joey's—a beacon of greasy food and cigarette smoke—might just hold the key to peeling back the layers of this case.
"Got a feeling about this?" Javi asked, breaking the silence that had enveloped them.
"More than a feeling," Tori replied, her voice low but steadfast. "Patterns, habits—they're what people slip up on. If our arsonist is a regular at Joey's, someone might have seen something. Any detail could be the key we need to nailing this sicko.”
"Then we'll find it," Javi affirmed, his own resolve mirroring hers. "We'll find him."