Page 35 of Burning Justice

He dragged his attention back to the outlet, then nodded. “They could be the result of electrical arcing that caused the fire, or they could have been caused by the fire itself.” Using an evidence bag, he snapped off several beads. “Chemical testing can verify that, but the melted and discolored outlet cover is a good indication that this fire was electrical when it started in the wall space behind the sheetrock. The outlet burns, then the wall studs burn, and the fire spreads from there.”

Gemma took a photo. “If arcing started the fire, can you tell what caused it?”

“It’s an old house. If this is original wiring, it wouldn’t be too difficult to overload the circuit. An old lamp, ungrounded… If the wires touch, the circuit breaker should pop, stopping the flow of electricity. But if the breaker panel fails, it could start a fire. An arsonist could have helped the circuit breakers to fail.”

“How?” Gemma stood to make some notes in her portfolio. “Understanding electrical concepts was never my strong suit.”

”It was never mine, either,” he admitted. “There are lots of ways. You could remove the spring from the breaker to keep it from popping. You could insert a rusty screw in just the right place. Or you could install the wrong amperage breaker… The list goes on. The next step is to find the breaker box in all this mess.”

A stronger gust of wind blew through the house. The walls shuddered. Creaking, louder this time, rent the air. Several long pieces of charred ceiling beams twisted away from where they’d been attached to the wall and began swinging down in a wide arc.

Directly at Gemma’s head.

“Move!” he shouted, hurling his body against her and taking her to the floor. He twisted, lunging for the handle on Blaze’s harness and yanking him away from the falling beams.

More beams crashed to the floor where Gemma and Blaze had been standing. Brett’s heart pounded. Blaze’s body shook, and he snugged up tightly to Brett’s side. “You okay?” he asked Gemma.

Still partially beneath him, her chest rose and fell quickly. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear. “I think so.” She nodded, and he brushed a few strands of hair from her face. They were even softer, silkier than he’d expected. “But I’m having trouble breathing.”

Ah hell. He pushed from the floor and skimmed his fingers over her ribcage through her shirt, searching for signs of pain or swelling.

“Stop it! What are you doing?” She batted his hands away.

“I need to check your ribs. You could have landed on something and broken a rib or punctured a lung. You said you couldn’t breathe.”

“Yeah.” A look of exasperation crossed her face. “Because you were lying on top of me, crushing the air from my lungs.”

Shit. “Sorry.” He stood and held his hand down to her. “How ’bout we get the heck out of here?”

“Good idea.”

Outside, Brett ran his hands down her soot-covered back and shoulders to her arms, searching for outward signs of injuries. “Are you sure you’re okay?” A few scratches marred the soft, smooth skin on one shoulder, probably where he’d pinned her to the debris on the floor.

Guilt flooded him. He’d caused those scratches. “I did that. I’m sorry.”

“Forget it,” she said shakily. “You probably just saved my life. I saw that piece of wood coming at my head, and I just froze. I concede that you were right about the house, and I feel so stupid.”

He snorted. “Stupid is one word I’d never use to describe you.” And he meant it. Inside that pretty head was more IQ than most people had. Other than his closest friends, Deck and Evan, she had more grit and determination than anyone he’d ever worked with.

“Thanks.” An adorable grin curved her lips. Lips he had to stop staring at. If only they weren’t so full and lush. Kissable. Yep, something about a near-death experience made him want to kiss his partner.

He cleared his throat. “I need to check Blaze.”

Standing beside him, Blaze seemed okay, but he was still shaking. Brett knew his dog didn’t fully comprehend what had almost just happened, but he understood body language and was taking his cues from Brett. When he’d glimpsed those beams ripping loose, his only thoughts had been for Gemma and Blaze’s safety. He might not be shaking on the outside, but inside, he was quaking with terror at what could have happened.

Lifting each of Blaze’s paws, he inspected the pads for cuts and abrasions. Next, he ran his hands over his dog’s sooty coat. He blew out a relieved breath. His dog was okay. Gemma was okay, but it was his fault she’d nearly been hammered in the head by falling debris. He should have inspected the house better, and he never should have let her convince him to allow her in there with him. He hadn’t gone with his gut, and she’d almost been killed.

Brett fisted his hand. That wouldn’t happen again. Couldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t let it. From this point forward, he’d never second-guess his instincts.

Gemma tapped into her phone. “I just forwarded the fire marshal our photos.”

“Tell him they need to knock down the remaining timbers before anyone else goes inside.” She followed him back to the Expedition, where he dug around for clean cloths they could wipe their hands off with. “Tell him we also want to see that breaker box when he finds it.”

The sound of tires crunching on gravel came from the end of the driveway. A large white, unmarked SUV turned in. In a cloud of swirling dust, the SUV braked, then hastily backed onto the road and took off, tires squealing on the asphalt as it sped away.

Gemma’s phone dinged, and she looked at the screen. “That can’t be the fire marshal. He just texted me that he was still in a meeting.”

Blaze uttered a low growl deep in his throat.