Flashover Read Online Free PDF

faux-finish painting did not engage her. Nor did the old Western or Oregon’s newest morning-news duo. Her mind wandered again to the fire.
    She could feel the panic at being buried under the piles of debris, the fear just as tangible as it had been that night. Did Cyril set fire to his own place? Wouldn’t be the first time someone had done such a thing to claim the insurance money. The thought sat in her gut like a live grenade. “When I get my hands on that guy, he’s going to answer for the damage he’s caused.”
    The ring of the phone startled her.
    Tim’s voice was cheerful. “Hi, Ivy. I hope I’m not calling too early.”
    â€œNo, sadly, I’ve pretty much been up all night.”
    â€œUh-oh. Shoulder hurting?”
    â€œNot much. Mostly I was thinking about Cyril.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œMoe’s friend. He’s the owner of the house that I nearly died in.”
    Tim gasped. “Really? I didn’t put that together.”
    â€œWell, I did, and I’m going to talk to Moe to find out if he knows where his friend might be holed up.”
    â€œOkay, but you’re going to turn that info over to the police when you find out, right? No taking things into your own hands, John Wayne style?”
    â€œSure, sure. I’ll be good.” She looked at the time. It was only nine o’clock. Still five more hours until she could count on finding Moe in his apartment, ready to watch his favorite soap opera. She tuned back into Tim’s conversation.
    â€œSo do you want to come with me to the game?”
    â€œWhat game?”
    He laughed. “Sometimes I have the strange feeling you don’t listen to me. I’m coaching this afternoon. We’re two games away from the play-offs. Why don’t you come?”
    She knew what he was trying to do and it warmed her heart, but the last thing she needed was to be around a bunch of happy parents at a Christian high school, cheering for the kids Tim coached three nights a week. “I think I’m going to take it easy today. I’ve got to get my shoulder back in shape.”
    â€œOh. Okay.”
    She felt bad for disappointing him. “Call me after and tell me how it goes.”
    â€œSure. Take care, Ivy.”
    She tried again to pay attention to the TV with no success. Thoughts of Cyril and Moe kept preying on her mind. She had to know what was going on with the investigation. All at once an idea electrified her. The phone was in her hand almost before she realized it.
    There was someone who knew exactly what was going on and he was going to tell her.
    Â 
    In spite of the August heat, Fire Marshal Doug Chee was running fast when Ivy found him later that day. Since her phone calls were routed to his voice mail, she decided on the direct approach. The slender, dark-eyed man would run the track every day whether it was a workday or not. Today he pushed a jogging stroller in front of him with his baby son asleep inside. A little umbrella sheltered the infant, and Ivy noticed that Doug kept to the shaded periphery of the track.
    Ivy put herself where he’d see her around the next turn and waited.
    He puffed up, stride perfect, a gleam of sweat on his brow. When he saw her, he faltered slightly before he waved and called out. “Hey, Ivy. How’s the shoulder?”
    â€œOkay. I need to talk to you, Doug. I tried to call your house, but you weren’t in.”
    â€œSorry. It’s been crazy busy. I’ve got two more laps before I’ve got to go. I’m taking the baby home to Mary in a bit.” He passed her and continued on.
    Ivy stared at him. She knew Doug was driven and the man had a work ethic second only to her own, but she had a feeling he was only too happy to run away. When he came around the second time, she tried again. “Come on, Doug. This will only take a minute.”
    He shook his head and sailed on without comment.
    By the time he came