And my stomach tightened when I realized that this time the fire engines weren’t standing idly by. Michael and Rob and their colleagues were unrolling hoses and hauling equipment out of various compartments and then dashing off into the woods to the right of the temple.

Most of the deputies who had arrived on the scene were following them, although I could see a pair of deputies slowly working their way around the left side of the building, checking behind every twig. And my friend Aida Butler was talking to an excitable man in a fur-trimmed down jacket. I strolled over to eavesdrop.

“—and Chief Burke told us all to be on the lookout for the prankster,” the man was saying. “So when I saw the flames out in the woods, I called.”

“Did you go out to investigate?” Aida asked.

“I didn’t dare leave the temple,” he said.

Flames in the woods. I watched until the last fireman had disappeared into the woods, then followed the path of the hoses, keeping a good ten feet away from the nearest one. A half-moon shone down from the cloudless sky and reflected on the snow, making it easy to see where I was going.

Pretty soon I spotted the firefighters in a clearing. No flames, but a lot of steam rising from what had probably been a campfire before the hoses had gotten to it. Three hoses were still pouring water into the clearing—Rob was wielding the nozzle on one of them—and a couple of other firefighters were hacking at logs and turning over piles of leaves, presumably to uncover any lingering sparks.

Chief Burke and Chief Featherstone, the fire chief, were standing at the edge of the clearing, watching the excitement.

“You think maybe you could call them off now?” Chief Burke said. “I hate to dampen their enthusiasm, seeing as how for most of them it’s their first real fire—”

“But the fire’s long gone, and all they’re doing now is washing away any evidence that you might like to find,” Chief Featherstone said. “I hear you.”

He lifted a bullhorn to his mouth and barked out an order. “Stand down! Turn off your hoses and stand by to assist the deputies if needed.”

It took a few seconds, but the hoses cut off, and all the firefighters gathered around the clearing, except for a few who were running through the woods shouting “All clear here!” at intervals, and were probably too far away to hear their chief.

Two of the deputies sprang into action, searching the sodden leaves and ashes in the clearing.

“Found something,” one called. “Beer bottles. And the contents are still a little fizzy.”

He held up a bottle of Gwent Pale, a local microbrew.

“Never heard of that brand,” Chief Featherstone said.