One Careless Moment by Dave Hugelschaffer Page B

a pen at a spot where the perimeter of the fire, marked with a heavy black line, approaches the main trail.
    â€œCan you mark where you found the fusee cap?”
    I oblige, put a red dot about where I think I found the cap.
    â€œAbout a hundred and twenty yards from the origin,” says Noble. He tugs at his tie, still too tight for his thick neck. He mops his forehead with a kerchief pulled from a pants pocket and looks at me.
    â€œCould you show me how you traced the fire back to the origin?”
    Using the red marker as a pointer, I relate where I entered the fire, what signs I noted. Haines and Castellino join us at the map. Castellino has the recorder in hand, pointing it at me like a reporter. Noble frowns when I tell them about the mixed char patterns, how I used the fire spread rate and game trail to locate the origin.
    â€œSo, I wouldn’t necessarily find the same origin,” he says.
    It’s my turn to frown. “What do you mean?”
    He points to the origin marked on the map. “If I relied on char patterns, and other traditional indications of fire spread, I could easily draw a different conclusion.”
    â€œMaybe,” I say slowly, wondering where he’s going with this. “But I doubt it.”
    â€œWhy might that be?”
    â€œHave you been out there?”
    â€œThis morning,” he says. “First light. But indulge me.”
    â€œOkay. Like I said, the char patterns are multidirectional, indicating variable winds and correspondingly variable directions of fire spread; no doubt a result of complex terrain patterns. Unless you know something I don’t, you’d have to rely on the same indicators — the rate of fire spread and the likely route of access into the origin area. What was your conclusion?”
    â€œBased on what I found, I couldn’t draw a conclusion.”
    â€œYou couldn’t draw a conclusion?”
    He shakes his head and I get an uncomfortable feeling he doesn’t believe me.
    â€œAre you questioning my origin?”
    â€œNot at all,” Noble says hastily, raising his hands. “I didn’t have the benefit of the physical evidence you found, or your early arrival at the fire. I was merely curious how you determined the origin. Given the char patterns, you did a hell of a job.”
    There’s a silence. Haines and Castellino study the map. Grey leans back in his chair, looking critical. Despite Noble’s assurances, I can’t help wondering if he doubts I found the origin at all, and it’s making me a little defensive.
    â€œI did find the origin,” I say. “And there was fusee slag there.”
    â€œNo one is questioning whether you found the origin,” says Noble. “You were there; we weren’t. As for the contamination, it’s not that uncommon. First priority is knocking down the flames. People tend to forget about the subsequent investigation, and its requirements.”
    Haines is nodding.“I can’t tell you how many times that’s happened.”
    There’s an awkward pause, filled with the sound of a dripping coffee machine.
    â€œYou mentioned fusee slag,” Castellino says quietly. “Was there anything else?”
    â€œI didn’t dig around looking for a nail or the end of the fusee. I didn’t have the time to do a thorough crime scene investigation, so I didn’t want to disturb the site any more than necessary.”
    â€œUnderstandable,” says Haines. “You were there as the incident commander, not a forensic specialist.”
    â€œBut you are a wildfire investigator,” says Noble.
    â€œWe’ve established that,” I say flatly. “Did you find anything further this morning?”
    â€œNothing,” says Noble.
    â€œNo droplets or small blobs of slag?”
    â€œNot yet, but they’re still looking.”
    â€œWhat about soil and ash samples? There should be traces.”
    â€œI