if you’re looking to lay blame, you don’t need to look much farther than your hometown.”
“Littlehope?”
“They were first on the scene. And while I know small town fire departments are sometimes lacking in training and equipment, that doesn’t really explain what we found when we got out to the island.”
I slipped a digital recorder from my bag and set it in the center of the table. Flint stood and closed the door, then returned to his seat. I waited until he’d taken a long pull from his Coke, and switched on the recorder.
“Would you mind walking me through what you found when you first arrived on the scene?” I asked.
He nodded.
I leaned back, giving him space, and he began.
“Because it’d been a dry summer that year, everyone was pretty maxed out by the time August rolled around—lots of brush fires, that kind of thing. I was new in the department. I’d trained as a fireman, then went through the Academy and got a degree in criminal science before I wound up here. Still, there’s not a lot of training short of the battlefield that can prepare you for something like the Payson fire.
“The first we heard of it was the afternoon of Wednesday, August 22 nd . The reports were conflicting—somebody from the volunteer fire department in the next town said there was a fire out on one of the islands, but then we got another call from the Littlehope fire chief saying that everything was under control.”
“What time did you get that call?” I asked.
Flint checked his notes. “That came in early that afternoon—around noon.”
“And Joe Ashmont was the fire chief then, right?”
He nodded grimly.
“And he told you that the Fire Marshal wouldn’t be needed for the Payson fire? That would mean he told you there were no casualties out on the island, wouldn’t it?”
This earned another nod. “We’re charged with investigating any fire that results in a death, whether accidental or otherwise. So, yes—if Ashmont told us we wouldn’t be needed, he was basically saying the fire was harmless. Everyone was okay. He made it out to sound like a brush fire that had gotten a little out of hand.”
“What time did you finally get the call saying you would be needed out there?”
“At four o’clock that afternoon, we got a call from a volunteer fireman summering in Littlehope.”
“Noel Hammond,” I said.
“Right. Hammond put in the call, and because we’d already been getting conflicting information all day, we had an idea that something was up. Until we heard from him, we had no idea what a large-scale investigation would be required. And no clue of the number of fatalities, of course.”
“So, how long did it take you to get to the island?”
“There were a number of different agencies involved—the ME’s office, State police, criminal investigations, the Fire Marshal… To get everyone out there, we had to pull in Marine Patrol. It took all night and part of the next day before everybody was on the same page and we were all headed out to Payson Isle.”
“So, early afternoon on the 23 rd ?” I asked.
“Around eleven o’clock.”
“And what did you find when you got out there?”
He scratched his chin. Eased back in his seat, something distant in his blue eyes. I had the sense that he was no longer seeing me, was no longer rooted in the safety of the barracks.
“The fire was out by then, of course. A few people had stayed on the island overnight to make sure no new fires sprung up—that can happen sometimes. You’ll think a fire’s dead, but it’s just waiting for a little breathing room before it comes back to life. So, there were a few people on watch.”
“Do you remember who?”
He checked his notes again. “Ashmont, of course. The town constable—Matt Perkins. Hammond was there. And there was a doctor there, too—Katherine Everett.”
My mother. I tried not to show my surprise.
“And the scene itself? What did you see when you got there? What was your
“Littlehope?”
“They were first on the scene. And while I know small town fire departments are sometimes lacking in training and equipment, that doesn’t really explain what we found when we got out to the island.”
I slipped a digital recorder from my bag and set it in the center of the table. Flint stood and closed the door, then returned to his seat. I waited until he’d taken a long pull from his Coke, and switched on the recorder.
“Would you mind walking me through what you found when you first arrived on the scene?” I asked.
He nodded.
I leaned back, giving him space, and he began.
“Because it’d been a dry summer that year, everyone was pretty maxed out by the time August rolled around—lots of brush fires, that kind of thing. I was new in the department. I’d trained as a fireman, then went through the Academy and got a degree in criminal science before I wound up here. Still, there’s not a lot of training short of the battlefield that can prepare you for something like the Payson fire.
“The first we heard of it was the afternoon of Wednesday, August 22 nd . The reports were conflicting—somebody from the volunteer fire department in the next town said there was a fire out on one of the islands, but then we got another call from the Littlehope fire chief saying that everything was under control.”
“What time did you get that call?” I asked.
Flint checked his notes. “That came in early that afternoon—around noon.”
“And Joe Ashmont was the fire chief then, right?”
He nodded grimly.
“And he told you that the Fire Marshal wouldn’t be needed for the Payson fire? That would mean he told you there were no casualties out on the island, wouldn’t it?”
This earned another nod. “We’re charged with investigating any fire that results in a death, whether accidental or otherwise. So, yes—if Ashmont told us we wouldn’t be needed, he was basically saying the fire was harmless. Everyone was okay. He made it out to sound like a brush fire that had gotten a little out of hand.”
“What time did you finally get the call saying you would be needed out there?”
“At four o’clock that afternoon, we got a call from a volunteer fireman summering in Littlehope.”
“Noel Hammond,” I said.
“Right. Hammond put in the call, and because we’d already been getting conflicting information all day, we had an idea that something was up. Until we heard from him, we had no idea what a large-scale investigation would be required. And no clue of the number of fatalities, of course.”
“So, how long did it take you to get to the island?”
“There were a number of different agencies involved—the ME’s office, State police, criminal investigations, the Fire Marshal… To get everyone out there, we had to pull in Marine Patrol. It took all night and part of the next day before everybody was on the same page and we were all headed out to Payson Isle.”
“So, early afternoon on the 23 rd ?” I asked.
“Around eleven o’clock.”
“And what did you find when you got out there?”
He scratched his chin. Eased back in his seat, something distant in his blue eyes. I had the sense that he was no longer seeing me, was no longer rooted in the safety of the barracks.
“The fire was out by then, of course. A few people had stayed on the island overnight to make sure no new fires sprung up—that can happen sometimes. You’ll think a fire’s dead, but it’s just waiting for a little breathing room before it comes back to life. So, there were a few people on watch.”
“Do you remember who?”
He checked his notes again. “Ashmont, of course. The town constable—Matt Perkins. Hammond was there. And there was a doctor there, too—Katherine Everett.”
My mother. I tried not to show my surprise.
“And the scene itself? What did you see when you got there? What was your
Similar Books
