“So what, then ten, fifteen minutes, maybe?”

Ed shrugged. “Maybe. Of course, if the fire has its way, which it often does, could be two—three—minutes, and there’s nothing you can do.”

“Could that have happened there?”

Ed turned from his engine work. He wiped his hands on a utility towel and eyed James with purpose. “It did, according to Travis.”

James nodded in compliance, although he was still convinced things were not as they seemed. “Right. One more thing, if you don’t mind.”

“Startin’ to, but you can ask anyway.”

James held up a hand in supplication. Why was everyone so touchy when it came to this subject? “ I appreciate you guys are all volunteers down here and don’t imagine you have the resources you probably need, but do you keep any kind of record of what time you arrived at the Pearce fire? As exact as possible.”

“You’re right; we’re not a cross the T’s and dot the I’s outfit, and I’m not sure where you’re going with all this, but I do actually try and maintain some integrity around here.” He crossed the garage to a metal shelving unit and then flipped open a metal index card box that was on the third shelf. “My computer,” he teased as he held up the box. “Let’s see here.”

He pulled out a card and held it between two fingers while he dug in the pocket of his coveralls for a moment before pulling out a pair of reading glasses. “We arrived on the scene at 10:43 P.M. exactly. Our findings, as well as Travis’s first-hand account tell us the fire had been going for approximately seventeen minutes at that point. That time was corroborated, give or take a minute, by Earl Jackson, who has the next farm over. He was out having a smoke. Wife doesn’t let him do it in the house ‘cause they got a new baby. He saw it from the get-go. He was the one who called us.” Ed took off his glasses and tucked them back into his breast pocket. “There was nothing we could do. It was all but gone when we got there.”

“So then, the fire started—”

“Was started. It didn’t just magically appear, like abracadabra.”

“At 10:26 or somewhere around there.”

“No, exactly 10:26. That’s when we got the call from Jackson, just as it started.” Ed gave James a stony expression that clearly stated he’d taken offense at James’s continued prodding.

James had meant no offense. Ed was a competent fireman and administrator; James was just trying to get at the truth. He started to say as much, but had a second think and shut his mouth.

Ed thrust his hands into the pockets of his orange coveralls. “Anything else?” The words were accommodating, but his dismissive tone didn’t leave even a microdot of room for further questions.

James shook his head and turned to leave. When he stepped out into the cool air, he noted a drop in temperature. Ironically, it matched Ed’s frosty reception. James’s breath preceded him to the truck with each exhale.