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Flashpoint

by D.A. Richardson

226 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-2048; ISBN 1-4120-1671-1; US$20.54, C$25.99, EUR16.90, £11.71

Firefighting. Smoke, sweat, tears -- a job not meant for the weak of heart. Three women will encounter the crew of Fire Hall #5, but only one will plan their deaths.

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about the book      about the author      excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book In her career as an arsonist, she'd torched a new home construction site, the service garage of a trucking company and an apartment building. In Atlanta, she burned a racing stable and a hotel. From city to city, she torched buildings and took the lives of firefighters; keeping the promise she made to herself at her Uncle Henry's fire department funeral... Flashpoint follows a female arsonist while telling of the life and death situations firefighters face each day and the family support system that stands behind them. With all the "Usual Suspects" this mystery will draw you in like smoke draws firefighters into a burning building. Three women will cross the paths of the crew from Fire Hall No. 5 but only one will plan their death.

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About the Author Debra began her writing career with poetry and song lyrics and soon expanded her repertoire to include freelance features articles. Writing under the pseudonym of Ann Richards, she has been published in several Canadian magazines and newspapers, including both the Calgary and Toronto Sun. Debra contributes the success of her work on in-depth research. Prior to penning Flashpoint, she spent considerable time inside fire halls across Canada and jokes that she is "the only person who has been through fire academy training in three different provinces and still hasn't made it to the fire floor." Her second mystery… Don't Believe Everything You See… which takes the reader from an all-inclusive resort near Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, to a funeral home in Denver, Colorado, and back again was released in the spring of 2008. Debra is currently working on sequels to both of her novels.

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Excerpts

Excerpt One

...A satisfied smile swept across her face as she pulled Travis' apartment key from her coat pocket. She hadn't planned on starting this fire, but perhaps it was appropriate to leave the 'Windy City' in a blaze of glory!

Last week she attended her farewell luncheon. She'd laid the groundwork for her departure weeks earlier by telling co-workers that her father was ailing and she was moving to Atlanta to be with him. After opening her gift of a beautiful fourteen-carat gold Chicago Fire Department ring, she smiled the smile that could melt an iceberg and gave Mrs. Stewart a warm hug. "Why, it just breaks my heart to have to leave all of you and this beautiful city."

"Take care of yourself," they all told her. "And keep in touch."

They all liked her. What wasn't to like? She was pleasant, charming, and a very proficient worker. And best of all, no one had ever suspected that such a shy timid southern belle was capable of such deadly destruction. She knew she would miss Chicago, particularly the wail of sirens that told her something, somewhere was on fire, but she promised herself that once she was settled in a new city, she would hear the sirens again...

...As she walked back to the bedroom, the sound of batteries jingling in her pocket was music to the ears. She knew that Travis wouldn't cough from the smoke as it started to fill his room. The smoke detectors wouldn't go off to wake him from his drug induced stupor. He wouldn't feel the heat of the flames eating away at his flesh until it was too late. Her blue eyes sparkled as she visualized his demise.

...From ten to fourteen minutes, Travis' arms and legs would become badly charred. At fifteen to twenty minutes, the bones would begin to become visible on his face and arms, then his ribs and skull. By thirty-five minutes, the bones of his upper and lower legs would be exposed.

As Travis' body gave into the extreme heat, the muscles of his arms and legs would constrict. His tongue would protrude from his mouth, and the muscles of his face and neck would contract. His skin would split apart, and the build-up of steam from his internal fluids would cause the vault of his abdomen to rupture. The last step in his cremation would come due to lack of moisture. His body would go into progressive desiccation and dry out until it carbonized and the crystals of his bones fused together.

A satisfied smile swept across her face. "With any luck, there won't be enough left of you to warrant an autopsy, Mr. Greenwood."

Excerpt Two

Walter's voice raised another octave with each sentence. "We aren't just firefighters we're electricians, gas fitters, carpenters and janitors. We have to learn how to control fuel leaks, deal with hazardous chemicals, building collapses and do high angle rescue. Hell, we even have to learn how to deliver kids! I busted my hump to get here twenty years ago. I started training the day I took this job and I have been training ever since."

He slammed his large fists on the podium. "Sit on our asses at the hall? Not bloody likely. We may not hear an alarm all day, we may not hear one for an entire tour, but you can be damn sure we're waiting for it." He paused for only a moment before adding. "I want all of you to know that I've taken it upon myself to do something about this bitch!"

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In the past month, the fire department had been inundated with calls, responding to over 1300 of them in the past fourteen days alone. Last week, the department was only one fire away from having to call in off-duty firefighters and spare rigs to handle the workload, and still have coverage in case something else erupted. Very rarely did the city experience three significant fires all at the same time. That day, all hell broke loose.

The destruction began with a major grass fire on the outskirts of town. There was a two-alarm restaurant fire that called out twenty-two firefighters from five different halls. Ben and the crew of No. 5 had been one of them.

At the same time, fires were burning in both ends of the city. In the south, crews were knocking down a blaze in a family dwelling that quickly spread to the homes on either side. In the north, firefighters were tackling a lumberyard fire. Just when things appeared to be calming down, No. 11 station was called to an apartment fire that claimed the lives of three people. Total damage from the fires was estimated to be well over 6.5 million dollars, but the department was sure those figures would rise after insurance adjusters had completed their investigation.

The biggest fire to date was a three-alarm blaze that raged out of control in the third historical landmark to go up in the past nine months. Shortly after 7:00 am, Rachel McCauley dialed 911 on her cell phone and reported seeing flames coming from the top of St. Jacob's Convent. One by one, stunned commuters pulled to the side of the road and watched in amazement as flames began consuming the roof of the four-storey red brick structure. Within minutes, a huge plume of thick, black smoke could be seen traveling across the Seattle sky.

The main blaze at St. Jacob's lasted more than five hours and smaller hot spots continued to flare up throughout the day. In the end, it had taken 10 fire halls, 66 firefighters and several hours to knock down the blaze and days to clean up the destruction. The fire was still under investigation, but the fire department was sure they had and arsonist on their hands.

Excerpt Three

At the top of the stairs, Ben turned left and disappeared into the smoke. He knew he was going to have one hell of a time finding Michael it was as black as a train tunnel.

He'd traveled ahead on his hands and knees no more than three feet when Bruce's voice broke in over the radio. "Captain, did you see the flashover?"

"No, but I heard it. Is everyone okay?" Ben asked.

"Negative," Bruce answered. "The kid got blown down the stairs."

"How badly is he hurt?"

"Burns to his neck and hands. I think it scared the shit out of him more than it hurt him," Bruce chuckled. "He wanted to go back inside. He's on his way to the hospital now. Have you found Wells?"

"Negative. I can't hear his PAL going off and I can't see a bloody thing up here. Are you back inside?"

"Yeah, just coming up the stairs. Pete and Garth are right ahead of me. They'll grab the line I extended on the first go round and protect our avenue of escape. I'll follow your line and be there in a jiffy."

The next radio transmission the men heard was cause for concern. "Command, this is attack team one. We aren't gonna be able to stay in here much longer. The ceiling's rolling like a tidal wave and it's hotter than a firecracker. Look's like the fires punched holes in the roof. It's starting to free vent. I think we need to go surround and drown on this baby, and soon!"

Ben knew if that were the case, any minute there would be a recall. The warning horns would go off and everybody would be ordered out of the building. He'd have to abandon his search...

Excerpt Four

She was positive that once the wedding band was on her finger, the nightmares of her youth would vanish. She would hang up her matches once and for all. First, there was something she needed to do. She had to set one more fire. This time, she wouldn't kill a firefighter. This time she'd kill a family friend.

Aaron Cook, her late father's ex-financial planner, was becoming a problem. She had no idea how he'd found the diary and videotapes she'd hidden at her father's ranch, but nonetheless, he'd found them. Now, he knew all about the fires and how she'd set them.

He'd presented her with his envelope of evidence in New York last month. Aaron promised that if she'd get professional psychiatric help he'd keep his mouth shut. She didn't believe him, why should she. He'd already taken her for a quarter of a million when he discovered the little fire insurance scam involving her father's thoroughbred racing stable.

"Why should I believe that you're not going to try to blackmail me again, Aaron?" she asked him.

"Darlin' child. It wasn't blackmail. You needed money. I needed money. It worked out for both of us."

She knew Aaron well enough to know that he wouldn't keep his word. Well, after this little fire my friend, you won't be talking to anyone. She reached into the pocket of her Calvin Klein jeans and felt for the white cube of barbecue starter. "I'm not going to let you ruin my wedding, or the rest of my life, Aaron Cook." She picked up the telephone and dialed his number. "Aaron, it's me," she told him when he answered. "I've been giving a lot of thought to what you said, and I agree. I can't get married with this hanging over my head. I'm on my way to your place now. I'll be there in twenty minutes and we'll take care of everything."

"I'm glad you're going to handle this," he told her. "You'll feel much better in the morning."

"Yes, Aaron," she smiled into the receiver. "I'm sure that I'll feel much better in the morning. I'll see you in twenty minutes. Do you have any Jack Daniel's? Good, put some on ice for me. Dinner, no I can't stay for dinner. I have somewhere else to be."

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Catalogue Information

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