That might have been a little more information than she needed, but it was interesting. Now for the second thing she’d noted. “The person who placed the call to nine-one-one did so rather quickly after the fire was estimated to have started?”
“Yep.”
“Do you have this person’s information?”
“I can get that for you.”
“Thanks.” She also wanted to get her hands on the 911 tape.
“Do you figure it was arson?” Trent asked.
Sullivan seemed to acknowledge Trent for the first time. “I’m trained to look at the evidence without any preconceived notions about intention or foul play. As homicide detectives, you’d look at everything with an eye to murder. But, with all that said, from what I see so far, I have no doubt in my mind the fire was set on purpose. Evidence is still being gathered from inside the home, but my initial impression is that accelerant was used. I’ll still need to confirm what that was, but the girl is wet and smells of gasoline. The medic noticed it when performing life-saving endeavors.”
She turned to Trent. “We’ll need to speak to the person who called nine-one-one. They could have seen the firebug, maybe even been the firebug.”
“Nah.” Sullivan winced and shook his head. “Not to tramp on toes here, but a firebug, by their very nature, loves to watch the fires they set. They’re not going to call and have them put out.”
Amanda glanced over a shoulder to some people crowded across the street. Could one of them be the arsonist?
“Before you ask, we got pictures of everyone,” Sullivan said.
She slowly drew her attention back to the fire marshal. The person who called in the fire may not have started it, but they could have seen the person responsible. She gestured to the boarded windows. “Did you do that or—”
“No, it was like that.”
“But not the front door?” Trent flicked the tip of his pen toward the discarded door on the lawn.
“No.”
They’d have to look up the property records, but Amanda would assume it had defaulted to the bank, given the boarded windows. If so, the previous owner might have set the fire to spite the bank—the girl an unexpected casualty—but then that didn’t explain the gasoline on the body. “Do you know how long the home sat unoccupied?”
“Can’t say I’ve gotten that far.” Sullivan’s eyes darkened. “I can tell you that it seems squatters used the place. Not much garbage, but there are a few mattresses upstairs. The girl was found on one.”
Amanda took in the property, its long grass and the gate at the end of the driveway. “Guessing there’s a back door?”
“Yeah, and it’s definitely the access point they would have used—the people crashing here and likely the firebug. A large padlock was found on the back porch, and there’s evidence it was cut off. Now, the seed of the fire—”
“The seed?” Amanda queried, not quite sure what he meant by that terminology.
“The origin of the fire, where it started,” Trent jumped in to answer, shrugged under their gazes. “My uncle was a firefighter before he retired.”
“Huh.” Sullivan regarded Trent, this time with respect lighting his otherwise dull-gray eyes. “As I was about to say, the seed of the fire was in the middle of the main level and seemed to follow a trail toward the stairs. That’s what the burn marks are telling me anyway.”
Amanda nodded to acknowledge Sullivan’s conclusion and said, “Could you take us to the victim now?”
“Sure.” Sullivan led the way down the walk toward the medic’s vehicle.
As they moved, Amanda’s heart thumped a little off rhythm as she prepared herself to see the burnt remains of a young woman. Her mind was also churning with what exactly had taken place at 532 Bill Drive. A body doused with gasoline, left in a house set ablaze… that sounded like murder to her.
Two
“Hey, Marshal Sullivan.” A uniformed firefighter came over just as they reached the medic’s vehicle. He was dressed in full gear, his helmet in hand. Soot was smeared on his cheeks and forehead. He gave Amanda and Trent a brief look but focused on Sullivan. “Is it good for us to head out?”
Sullivan gave a small bob of his head, then said, “Actually, I’d rather you stick around for a bit.”
A small pulse tapped in the firefighter’s cheek.
“These are Detectives Steele and Stenson with the PWCPD.” Sullivan gestured toward them.
The man leveled a cool gaze at her, but he removed a glove and held out a hand. “Spencer Blair.”
He had a strong grip, not surprising, but the way he was staring through her made the seventy-degree weather feel like a cold front was moving in. “Blair?” she asked to ensure she heard him right. She knew someone else with that last name.
“Uh-huh.” He then shook hands with Trent, though he barely gave him a glance.
Amanda studied the firefighter. He was in his mid-to-late twenties. “Is your mother Emma Blair, a crime scene investigator, by chance?”
“The one and only.” Spencer kept his gaze locked on her, and it would seem he had some sort of issue with her, just like his mother did. Her interactions with Amanda were always curt and cool.
“Small world.” Sullivan gripped Spencer’s shoulder. “Spencer here is one of the firefighters who pulled the young lady out of the house.”
“You thought she was alive?” Amanda said.
“Not my call. We see a body, we clear it from the structure, hand it over to the medic.”
Sullivan clarified, “The only reason we wouldn’t is if it was obvious the victim was dead or had been murdered. Think a knife sticking out of a chest or a body riddled with bullets.”
“Or burned very badly,” she said.
Sullivan shook his head. “We’d still remove them. That is unless it was very evident survival was impossible. In the case of an obvious murder, we’d do our best to defend the area… That just means we’d preserve it or protect it from the fire.”
Amanda nodded and turned to Spencer.
