These babies have always helped me stand out.
Dark blue against flawless light, brown skin—and somewhat considered an anomaly, but I never let it bother me. My great-grandfather had blue eyes too. It’s just a family trait that pops up every now and then. With a shrug, I open the medicine cabinet, my hand hovering above the tube of toothpaste, when something suddenly hits me.
All of these bastards have a calling card.
I turn my face away for a moment.
Think Makena, he must have left something.
And that’s when it hits me.
The one thing he has left over and over that I’ve always dismissed as just a burn pattern, even though it looked almost exactly the same each time.
I drop the tube into the sink and walk quickly to the small office I have in my home. Sitting at the desk, I power on my computer, then tap my fingers impatiently as I wait for the damn thing to turn on.
I enter my password into the home screen, then open the internet, and log into the Ventura County Fire Department Mainframe. I have a secret folder on there aptly titled Pain in the Asses, that not even the best tech in the county would be able to find, and if they did, they would have one hell of a time opening. I double-click the folder, quickly scanning the sub-folders I have in there, and click again on the one titled LAGPFB—short for Latest and Greatest Persistent Firebug.
I open the pictures inside the file and set them into slide show mode while I sit back and bring a foot up onto the chair. I chew my lip as I watch the pictures go by slowly.
I see it—once, twice, three times—and when I see it the fourth time, I stop the slide show and enlarge the picture to full screen.
Well, I’ll be damned.
“Gotcha,” I whisper softly as I print the picture out and feel a little grin of triumph spread across my lips.
Chapter 6
I’m sitting on my couch staring at the broken television.
I hurled the apple through it in anger when nothing was mentioned about the fire. It seems that she isn’t as impressed yet as I hoped she would be, and she hasn’t found what I’ve been leaving for her.
I know this because the news is notorious for letting little details “slip” onto the air. The more they think they know, the higher the ratings. But they don’t understand this isn’t a game to me—it’s my fucking life—our lives that hang in the balance and I won’t be let down.
I fucking refuse to let my work go unnoticed by the one person that’s ever seen me, instead of through me.
The only way to get her attention is to start at the beginning. Maybe show her something she hasn’t quite seen yet and hope for the best.
I have to start at yellow.
She has to see the true level of destruction that I can reach, and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll move to orange, then red. And if the three colors fail me, I’ll step up my game to reach white—the one color of fire that scares me the most. It burns with such an intensity and melts even the strongest of irons, but I’m willing to swallow my fear and do this for her.
For us.
So that we can be the way we were before.
I have to help her remember, and tonight, I’ll paint the skies a beautiful tint of yellow that she has yet to witness.
I’ll watch her.
I’ll wait.
When it finally settles in, I’ll approach her and ask her if she remembers me, and if she hasn’t …
Yellow, I think as I lean my head back, let out a breath, and smile slightly.
Yellow has always been my favorite, anyway.
Chapter 7
“Dom, I think I’ve found something,” I say into my cellphone as I watch my coffee pot brew.
“Washington? Isn’t it your day off?” he asks curiously.
“Once upon a time,” I reply dryly as I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder, “but listen. There’s a scorch pattern that I’ve never really paid much attention to and I think I finally see it.”
“Before we get into that, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” he interrupts nervously.
I roll my eyes as I set my mug down on the counter, walk over to the fridge, and pull out a carton of half and half. Leave it up to Dom to not want to talk about work off hours.
“What’s up?” I finally ask before I take my first sip of coffee. I make a face, then reach up into the cupboard and retrieve the sugar bowl and mix some in while I wait.
“Um…”
“Spit it out, Dom. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you at a loss for words before,” I tease him as I lean against the counter in the kitchen and take another sip.
“You can feel free to say no, but I thought I would at least try, okay?” He clears his throat and I raise an eyebrow curiously. “Tonight, my wife is throwing a last-minute black-tie benefit for the servicemen and women of the county and I was wondering if—”
“Want me to be your date, Dom?” I ask him with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure that would piss off the missus. Plus, I’m not into anyone that’s spoken for.”
“No,” he says with emphasis. I can just hear the shade of crimson he’s turned at this point. I take another sip of my coffee. “I was hoping you’d be willing to go with my son. He needs to get out of the house for
