He didn’t need to read them. He already knew how the fires started. They’d had one more last night, only this time the house wasn’t empty and closer to town. It had been someone’s home. The arsonist was about to graduate from setting fires to murder. Thankfully no one had been in the house when it was torched. The only things left of the home was a gummy, acrid ash coating the tongue, charred timbers, and blackness of what used to be someone’s safe haven. If the cops didn’t catch the culprit soon, Bear feared he would have dead bodies on his hands. Pushing back from his desk, he rubbed his fingers in his eyes, tired as hell. Spencer was asleep in the media room. Bear couldn’t leave work and he hadn’t wanted to take Spencer home where he would have been alone. His best friend being arrested was hard on the small impala. Bear wished there was something he could do, but from the looks of Spencer’s coworker, Recker was in for a long night with the alpha.
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