Fire Season Read Online Free PDF

stuff?”
    â€œYup, that’s about right. Tools, driftwood. She had a nice lathe and some power saws and that.”
    â€œSo, Mr. Hallowell,” Coffin said, scratching his neck. “Can you think of any reason someone would want to burn down your shed? Any feuds with the neighbors? Any ex-wives mad at you?”
    Hallowell snorted through his long nose. “Ha,” he said. “Nope. We get along with everybody, far as I can tell. We’re Unitarians, you know—live and let live.”
    Tony sidled up, shirttail sticking out on one side, big gut hanging over his belt. “What’s Lola doing?”
    â€œShe’s filming the onlookers,” Coffin said, pulling him out of Hallowell’s earshot. “Tuck in your shirt, for God’s sake.”
    â€œWhat, those rubbernecks?” Tony said, tucking in his shirt with one hand, scratching his belly with the other. “How come?”
    â€œSOP in arson cases,” Coffin said. “Firebugs like to watch it burn—it’s part of the thrill. There’ve been a few famous cases where they’ve come back and mingled with the spectators, and been caught on camera. I’ll bring it up in tomorrow’s squad meeting.”
    â€œSo, what?” Tony said. “You get two or three more fires, you keep seeing the same guy, he’s your guy?”
    â€œMaybe,” Coffin said. “It’s a lead, anyway.”
    â€œKnow what I wish I had right now?” Tony said, gazing at the dwindling fire.
    â€œNo idea.”
    â€œSome beers and a pack of hot dogs. Those coals are gonna be awesome.”
    *   *   *
    The man in the gray hoodie stayed as far back in the shadows as he could, up the hill a bit, next to an empty rental cottage, half-hidden in the deep shadows cast by a couple of good-sized scrub pines. It had been an ugly surprise when the lady cop had started filming—he hadn’t expected that—but he was pretty sure the camera wouldn’t pick him up from that distance in such low light. He wore his usual outfit: jeans, hooded sweatshirt, ball cap. A guy in a guy suit. He could see at least three other men in the crowd down by the fire dressed almost exactly the same way.
    He thought about leaving—walking casually away, staying in the shadows as much as he could without being obvious about it—but decided instead to stay put. No need to draw unnecessary attention to himself, he thought. If you wear what everybody else is wearing, stay in the shadows and keep still, you’re practically invisible.

 
    Chapter 6
    Coffin sat at Boyle’s desk, drumming his fingers on the polished mahogany. He was wearing his uniform, even though the pants were a bit tight in the hips, and the shirt felt snug across his chest. He was not a fan of the Provincetown Police Department uniform—the pants were navy blue with a red stripe down the leg, and the shirt was pale blue with navy epaulets. Coffin did not like epaulets, and he did not like pale blue. He did not like neckties, but he wore the standard navy tie with his uniform shirt, the collar of which seemed to have shrunk in the six or seven months since he’d last worn it.
    Lola sat across from him in one of the leather guest chairs. The new town manager, Monica Gault, stood by the window, fiddling with Boyle’s Venetian blinds. “This is rather worrisome,” she said, flipping the blinds open, then closed, as if she were sending a coded signal to someone across the street. “I don’t like it at all.”
    She was a tall, pale woman who’d been hired away from the town of Washington, Connecticut, where she was held in high regard as an honest and effective public servant—exactly the opposite of the previous town manager, Coffin’s cousin Louie. After nearly a year, Coffin was still having trouble getting past her vaguely British accent, tweed skirts, and short strands of freshwater