She nodded.

“Nothing like a trial by fire for your first time out,” he added.

“An ambulance was leaving just as I got here,” she said. “Was someone hurt?”

Dave nodded. “Since the houses were under construction, no one expected them to be occupied, but then one of the Camp Verde firefighters heard her screaming. He went in and brought her out.”

“Her,” Ali confirmed. “A woman? Who is she? What was she doing there?”

“I have no idea.”

“What’s her condition, and where are they taking her?” Ali asked. When reporters arrived on the scene, those were some of the details they would want to know. Ali would need to have answers at the ready.

“She’s evidently badly hurt,” Dave answered, “but I have no idea where they’re taking her.”

“Do you know the name of the firefighter who rescued her?”

“Nope,” Dave said. “Sorry. For that you’ll need to check with the Camp Verde Fire Department.”

Someone summoned Dave and he was gone, disappearing into the smoke-filled night.

Squaring her shoulders, Ali followed Dave’s lead and set off to gather as much information as possible. She knew that in an hour or so, when she found herself standing in front of an assembled group of reporters for the very first time, they’d be looking to her for all available information-for answers to those pesky who, what, where, and why questions that were the news media’s real bread and butter.

One bit at a time Ali gathered the necessary information. The first 9-1-1 call had come in at eight twenty-nine. Arriving on the scene, the Camp Verde Volunteer Fire Department had assessed the situation and had radioed to request additional help, some of which had arrived at almost the same time Ali did.

Following the chain of command upward, she finally located Captain Carlos Figueroa of the Camp Verde Fire Department, who was directing the action from a vehicle parked across the street. He wasn’t thrilled when Ali introduced herself, but he grudgingly agreed to answer her questions.

“Lieutenant Caleb Moore is the guy who dragged her out of there,” Figueroa said. “He never should have gone in-too dangerous-but he did. I’ll have some serious words with him about that once we get him back from the hospital.”

“He’s hurt then, too?” Ali asked.

Figueroa nodded. “Not too bad, I hope, but he swallowed enough smoke that we need to have him checked out.”

“What about the woman?” Ali asked.

Captain Figueroa shrugged. “Who knows?” he returned. “Maybe she’ll make it; maybe she won’t.”

Just then a firefighter raced up to the car, dragged along by an immense German shepherd. “We got a hit, Captain,” he said. “Out here on the street, between the two houses.”

“What kind of hit?” Ali asked.

“You didn’t hear that,” Figueroa said. “But the dog is Sparks, our accelerant-sniffing dog. The guy with him is his handler. Sparks doesn’t need to wait for the fire to cool down to investigate if the perp was dumb enough to leave tracks for him outside on the street.”

“So it is arson, then?” Ali asked.

“Most likely,” Figueroa said, “but don’t quote me on that. It’s not for public consumption at this time.”

Ali’s cell phone rang at ten forty-five. “I understand there’s a whole slew of reporters waiting just inside the entrance to Verde View Estates,” Frances Lawless from Dispatch told her. “Any idea when you’ll be there to brief them?”

“Give me a couple of minutes,” Ali said.

She went back to the Cayenne, grabbed her computer, and spent the next ten minutes typing up a brief summary of everything she had learned. She’d be able to cover more ground if she started with a prepared statement before opening up for questions. Finally she closed her computer and headed back down the hill.

Don’t be nervous, she told herself on the way. They’re doing their jobs. All you have to do is yours.

When she reached the first van-cam, she stuck the Cayenne in park, turned it off, and then went to face the milling group of reporters, who immediately clustered around her, shouting questions at her and vying for her attention. She felt a momentary glitch in her gut. Once she had been one of the yellers. Now she was their target.

“All right,” she said, fixing a steady smile on her face and shouting back in order to be heard over the din. “Good evening, everyone. Could I have your attention, please? I am Alison Reynolds, public information consultant for the Yavapai County Sherrif’s Department. Hold on. I’ll give you what information I can.”

She opened her computer and said, “A call came in to the 9-1-1 emergency operators in Prescott at eight twenty-nine p.m. reporting a house fire at Verde View Estates. Firefighters from the Camp Verde Volunteer Fire Department responded with two trucks. When they realized that they were dealing with two separate house fires rather than just one, they requested further assistance. Two additional fire trucks and crews were dispatched to the scene from the City of Sedona. Because Verde View Estates is located on unincorporated land, several officers from the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Department were dispatched to the scene as well and will be part of the ongoing investigation. It appears that both structures are a total loss.

“The houses were under construction and were thought to be vacant. Unfortunately, that wasn’t true. Soon after the first Camp Verde fire crew arrived, a firefighter, Lieutenant Caleb Moore, a six-year veteran of the Camp Verde Volunteer Fire Department, entered one of the burning buildings, where he located and rescued one person. The victim, an unidentified female, is in the process of being transported to a Phoenix-area hospital. Lieutenant Moore was also injured, but it’s my understanding that his injuries are not considered life-threatening.

“The fires are currently considered to be contained if not controlled, but crews expect to remain on the scene through the night, extinguishing hot spots and making sure smoldering embers from the affected houses don’t spread to any other structures or to the surrounding grass and brush. Now, are there any questions?”

Ali paused and tried to look around. Blinded by the lights from the cameras, she found it impossible to tell how many people were there. From the noise they made it could have been a dozen or more.

“Is this arson?”

“That would be pure speculation at this time.” Ali answered carefully, remembering Captain Figueroa’s cautioning words. “No determination on that can occur until after the fire cools down and a full investigation can be mounted.”

She herself had seen the blaring, bright red ELF tag that had been sprayed on one wall. It seemed clear enough that if the Earth Liberation Front was claiming responsibility for this incident, the cause of the fires would most likely turn out to be arson. Still, her on-the-scene comments had to be circumspect. Captain Figueroa had told her that, and so had Sheriff Maxwell.

“When it comes to ongoing investigations, don’t give away anything you don’t have to,” Maxwell had told her. “What the media people want to know and what we can tell them are two different things.”

“You said an unidentified victim left here by ambulance,” a male reporter observed. “Is that person suspected of starting the fire?”

Ali had clearly said that it was too soon to suspect arson, but some of the reporters, and this one in particular, were already presupposing arson to be the cause. They would no doubt couch their stories in that same fashion. For now, Ali needed to steer them away from arson.

“As I said earlier,” she told them, “we have no word as to the identity of the victim or what relationship she might have to either the fire or Verde View Estates. She could have been a member of a work crew. She might also be someone who is in the process of purchasing one of the homes.”

“What about someone who’s homeless?” another reporter asked. “Is it possible a bum broke in after the workmen left, looking for a place to stay?”