Malcolm continued.
“Get the house number.”
Mrs. Avery stepped closer to the edge of her yard.
“Get every officer’s face.”
Another neighbor opened his front door.
Then another.
Malcolm pointed toward the evidence case.
“And make sure you get that label.”
Cole grabbed Malcolm’s arm.
Hard.
Malcolm did not resist.
His eyes dropped to Cole’s hand.
Then returned to his face.
“State your name and rank.”
Cole shoved him against the hood of the cruiser.
“You’re going to learn who controls this block.”
The sentence went straight into the recording.
Behind them, the fire spread from the first floor toward the stairwell.
A tactical officer looked toward Cole.
“Lieutenant.”
Cole ignored him.
“Lieutenant, fire department’s asking for access.”
“Hold them.”
The officer hesitated.
Malcolm heard it.
Mrs. Avery heard it.
The phone heard it.
“Hold them?” Malcolm asked.
Cole turned.
“This scene is not secure.”
“My house is on fire.”
Cole stared at him.
“So?”
For a second, even his own officers looked uncomfortable.
Malcolm slowly turned his head toward the street entrance.
A fire engine sat beyond the police blockade.
Lights flashing.
Crew waiting.
Unable to enter because police vehicles were positioned across the road.
Malcolm looked back at Cole.
“Let them through.”
Cole smiled.
“You don’t give orders here.”
Then a second-story window blew outward.
Glass rained onto the lawn.
One of the firefighters standing in the distance began shouting.
Cole swore under his breath.
The fire department captain finally ignored the blockade.
His truck rolled forward.
A police cruiser moved too late.
Firefighters rushed toward the house.
The first hose line reached the porch almost twenty-three minutes after neighbors had called 911.
By then, the front half of Malcolm’s home was gone.
The staircase had collapsed.
The roof above the study was burning.
Smoke poured from every opening.
Cole reached toward his handcuffs.
Then Malcolm finally told him one small fact.
“Lieutenant.”
Cole paused.
“The property you just ordered your officers to hold firefighters away from belongs to the district attorney.”
Cole’s hand stopped.
The other officers stared.
Malcolm stepped away from the cruiser.
“My name is Malcolm Reed.”
Nobody spoke.
“District Attorney Malcolm Reed.”
Cole looked toward the house.
Then toward the phones.
For the first time that morning, he seemed to understand the scale of what had happened.
Malcolm’s cell phone began ringing from inside his coat.
He removed it slowly.
Mayor Rufus Hale.
Malcolm answered on speaker.
“Malcolm.”
The mayor’s voice came fast.
“I need you to end all recording at the scene.”
Malcolm stared at Cole.
“Why?”
“The city is handling this internally.”
“My house is burning.”
“I know.”
“Police blocked firefighters.”
A pause.
“We do not know that.”
“I’m looking at the officers who did it.”
Rufus lowered his voice.
“No statement goes to the press.”
Malcolm looked toward Mrs. Avery.
Her phone remained raised.
“Clear the street,” the mayor continued. “This matter is closed effective immediately.”
The order hung in the smoky morning air.
Malcolm looked at the six officers.
At Cole.