California Fire And Life

41

Fire has a language.

It's small wonder, Jack thinks, that they refer to "tongues of flame," because fire will talk to you. It will talk to you while it's burning – color of flame, color of smoke, rate of spread, the sounds it makes while it burns different substances – and it will leave a written account of itself after it's burned out.

Fire is its own historian.

It's so damned proud of itself Jack thinks, that it just can't help telling you about what it did and how it did it.

Which is why first thing the next morning Jack is in the Vales' bedroom.

He stands there in that dark fatal room and he can hear the fire whispering to him. Challenging him, taunting him. Like, Read me, you're so smart. I've left it all here for you but you have to know the language. You have to speak my tongue.

It's okay with me, Jack thinks.

I speak fluent fire.

Start with the bed.

Because Bentley called it the point of origin and because that's just what it looks like.

They had to scrape her off the springs.

In fact, Jack can see the traces of dried blood on the metal. Can smell the unmistakable smell of a burned body.

And the bedsprings themselves – twisted, congealed. It takes a hot fire to do that, Jack knows. This kind of metal only starts to melt at