Vertical Burn - Earl Emerson [110]
“Allah, help me,” Yassar said, sagging against the porch support.
54. PARANOIA IN CHURCH
Finney was escorted to the third pew in St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral on Capitol Hill, to the section reserved for speakers, family members, and dignitaries. Finney didn’t feel as if he belonged in the pew, but by the time he realized where they were putting him, it was too late. He knew people were staring at him. He wanted to think it was only because the burns on his ears and the back of his neck were highlighted with white silvadine cream which stood out in a sea of black uniforms like some sort of misapplied clown makeup, but he knew it was more than that. He knew it and he hated it.
During the past two days he’d been out of the house only to visit his doctor. He continued to feel disoriented and at times dizzy, some of it from the medication, some from the delayed effects of heat stress and smoke inhalation, and from the chronic lack of sleep. He still hadn’t sorted out the events of the fire in his own mind. Although he believed he and Gary had been set up, he wasn’t certain. Even Diana hadn’t believed him.
As did every other attending member of the Seattle Fire Department, Finney wore his black wool uniform, a ribbon of black tape across the coat badge. The church was filled with uniforms from departments all over the Northwest. Festooned in wreaths and black ribbon, Engine 26 stood outside waiting to carry Sadler’s casket to the family plot in Bellingham.
Surrounding him in the first three pews were Sadler’s mother, his two married sisters, their husbands, assorted nieces and nephews, some of Gary’s old drinking companions, and a crop of current friends, mostly AA members and former girlfriends. Also in attendance were members from all the shifts at Station 26, as well as Charlie Reese and, at the opposite end of the pew, Captain G. A. Montgomery, who had been quoted extensively by the media over the past two days as saying their star witness had yet to give a statement. Finney was, of course, their star witness.
Finney found himself barely able to sit, unable to concentrate, and reluctant to listen to the eulogies. He caught a few words from the podium. Sadler had been an Eagle Scout. He was part of the Big Brothers program and had nurtured two young men to adulthood. He was an attentive uncle who took his nieces and nephews camping and fishing every summer, skiing every winter. He was an avid hunter as well as an amateur taxidermist. As the eulogies continued, sweat ran down Finney’s neck and stung his burns like lemon juice on a fresh cut. He still couldn’t figure out why Sadler was babying him during the fire, and that pained him almost as badly as the sweat on his burns. Sadler had saved his life, and Finney let him down.
With almost no conscious recollection of how he’d gotten there, he found himself outside the church among a forest of firefighters in dress uniforms. Engine 26 had left and so had the rest of the cortege.
“You okay, buddy?” his brother, Tony, asked.
“I guess.”
“What you need to do, John, is you need to lay low for a while and let some of this blow over.”
Diana Moore approached them. “Hello, Captain Finney.”
Tony nodded and swung his dark eyes back onto his brother, as did Diana.
“I’ve been meaning to come over to see how you were doing,” Diana said, to Finney.
“Don’t bother. I’m fine.”
“You been listening to the news reports about the fire?” Tony asked.
“No.”
“G. A. Montgomery was on KOMO saying Bowman Pork was set with a time-delay device. The way G. A.’s hinting around about what they found in the building, it was done by somebody who knew how to light a fire. Maybe a pro.”
“Or a firefighter?” Diana asked.
“That could be, too.”
Finney listened to his brother rehash the details. The initial fire had been set in a small room off the loading dock, additional devices set to kick in later at various other points in the building. At least one of those devices must have