Page 18 of Ink and Ashes

Holland

T he last thing I expected to wake up to this morning was a phone call from Colson. In fact, it’s so far down on the list of things I expected that, when I hear his raspy voice on the other end of the line, I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

I’m not.

“Why are you calling me at four-thirty in the morning?” I ask after glancing at the time on my phone. “How did you even get my number?”

“Dom,” is the response that comes through the phone.

Go figure. Over a yawn, I ask, “What the hell do you want, Caldwell? I was sleeping.”

“You still in town?”

I tense.He definitely already knows the answer to that question, but that doesn’t stop me from saying, “I am.”

“Good,” he states, and I frown. What does he mean good ? “I want to hear more about your theory.”

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me.”

Confused, I say, “Just a few days ago you wanted me gone.”

“Yup.” There’s some shuffling on his end, then he adds, “Come by the station in an hour. We can discuss this in private.”

I grit my teeth together, wanting so badly to deny his request just for the sake of it. But this is a step in the right direction—getting him on my side—and I would be stupid to say no.

So instead, I say a simple, “Yes, sir,” then hang up the phone before he has a chance to respond.

With a groan, I pull myself out of bed and into the shower. I go through the motions of getting ready and just before five-thirty, I pull out of The Scarlet’s parking lot.

Thankfully, Cedar Lane Café—my new favourite place, despite the rude employee I met at the farmer’s market—is open this early, and it’s on the way to the station, so I stop in quickly.

The bell above the door chimes upon my entry, and Liam is standing at the counter.

We’re the only two people in the café, seeing as it’s not even six a.m. His eyes scan my body as I approach, and I force myself not to have a visceral reaction to his appraisal of me.

“Morning, Liam,” I say politely. This guy gives me the creeps, but I refuse to let him have power over me.

“Holland,” he returns, his gaze locked on my breasts. I clear my throat, finally pulling his attention to my face. He has a mischievous look in his eye as he looks at me, and it has all my red flags going up. “Where ya off to so early?”

“Meeting with Lieutenant Caldwell at the fire station.” I swallow roughly. “Can I get a honey lavender latte, almond croissant, and a black dark roast?” I have no clue how Colson takes his coffee, so black seems like a safe choice.

Liam’s jaw flexes as he punches in my order, and I know he’s putting together that I’m buying Colson a coffee. “Anythin’ else?”

I shake my head. He rattles off the price, then I press my card to the reader. Once it beeps, I shift to the other end of the counter, and he turns to begin making my order.

“I’ve seen you investigating around town with Madison,” he grumbles. “You guys find much?”

The espresso machine starts whirring as he makes my latte, and I keep my gaze trained on his still-bandaged hand. Is that a new burn, or the same one he had a week ago?

“Not yet,” I say simply, unwilling to give him more information than necessary.

“Too bad.” Liam passes me the two drinks, then the paper bag with my croissant inside. But even when I take it from him, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in close and says, “Be careful out there, Holland Rhodes. Sure would be a shame if something were to happen to ya.”

A shiver runs up my spine at those words, but I don’t waste my breath with a response. Instead, I narrow my eyes and tear the bag from his hand. Then without another word, I turn my back on him and walk out the door.

I roll up to the station at quarter to six to find Colson waiting outside for me.

Shifting my car into park, I grab the two coffees and my laptop bag then make my way toward where he stands.

He has his arms crossed over his chest, a grouchy look on his face, and his sandy-brown hair is mussed as if he’s been running his hands through it.

He looks every bit like the imposing yet alluring firefighter he is.

As I get closer, though, I notice the bags under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. He may be alluring, but he also looks exhausted.

Though he must not be too tired, because he still barks, “You’re late,” as I make my way toward him.

“You’re lucky I even came at all,” I retort as I march right up to him and hold his coffee out.

He eyes it momentarily before shifting his gaze up to me, and I smile lightly.

“A peace offering. Though you’re making me regret getting it for you.”

He cocks a brow. “Did you poison it?”

A smirk dusts my lips. Was that a joke? “Tempting, but no.”

Reluctantly, he takes the drink from me. Keeping his eyes trained on me as if he’s unsure whether to believe me or not, he brings it to his mouth to take a sip. His face curls in disgust.

“What the fuck is this?”

My brows pull together. Looking down at the cup in my hand, I realize I gave him my coffee. “Shit, sorry. I’m not awake yet.” I swap the cup in my hand for the one in his, not bothering to mention that Liam’s comment also has me a bit distracted. “This is yours.”

His jaw flexes, but he takes a sip anyway. “Black?”

I nod. “Fits your personality.”

He shakes his head, and I swear I see the corner of his lip quirk up. “Thanks.”

I nod, and he turns to head toward the station.

I hesitate for a moment longer, my eyes narrowed in suspicion.

I’m not sure what his angle is right now, but him calling me is still a step in the right direction.

So I drop my shoulders and follow him inside.

We make our way to his office in silence, and when we arrive, he gestures for me to enter.

“Take a seat,” he tells me, nodding toward the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

He sets his coffee on the desk and leaves, so I take it as my opportunity to study the space. I was in here briefly the night we met, but not long enough to look around, and I haven’t been back since.

It’s small, with a desk on one side and a single bed on the other.

The desk is covered in paperwork, the shelves above it full of textbooks, a little model fire truck—which I can’t help but smile at—and a few framed photos.

There’s one of the crew, one of him, Cassidy, and who I’m assuming are their parents from what looks to be a decade ago, and then one of him, the same man I figure is his father, and another older man that is probably his grandfather.

All of them are dressed in the EGFD dress uniform, and his father has the fire chief bugle.

Of course, Colson’s dad is EGFD’s fire chief. I’m guessing his grandfather also was at one point, and I’ll bet someday, he will be too.

Next to the bed is a small table with a lamp and a few more framed photos—one of him with Beau and Dom, and one with a woman I don’t recognize where she’s kissing him on the cheek.

My eyes widen slightly. I haven’t noticed a ring, so that must be his girlfriend.

It doesn’t surprise me. As much of an ass as he’s been to me, the guy seems like a catch. He’s hot, athletic, intelligent, and if you get past the grouchy exterior, I’m sure he’s actually a nice guy. I just haven’t been lucky enough to see it.

My snooping is interrupted by Colson’s return. He glances out the door as if making sure no one else is around, then closes it and the blinds behind him.

Suddenly, the space feels much smaller than it did a minute ago.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I tilt my head in the direction of the photo of three generations of EGFD firefighters. “Your dad’s the chief?” I ask as I take a seat—opting for the desk chair over the bed.

“He was. He retired a few years ago after an on-the-job injury,” he says.

“You didn’t take over for him?”

He levels me with a look. “I was only twenty-seven and was dealing with a lot at the time. I’d just been made lieutenant after taking a leave-of-absence, so it didn’t make sense for me to jump rank to chief. Someday the job will be mine, but for now, Chief Whitlock is doing a hell of a job.”

I nod, my mind racing after what he just told me. I can’t help but wonder if his leave-of-absence was related to the death and, by extension, whatever happened with the press.

He takes the seat across from me on the bed. Our knees brush, and his rough voice pulls my attention back to him.

“Rhodes, are you listening?”

“Sorry, what?”

He huffs. “Considering you’re making some pretty serious accusations about this town, the least you could do is focus.”

Looks like grumpy Colson is back.

“You woke me up hours before my alarm and demanded I come over here. If you wanted focus, you should’ve waited for the sun to rise.” I shift in my seat, but before he has a chance to get into why I’m here so early, I ask, “Why haven’t you told anyone else about me?”

“So Cass did speak to you,” is all he says.

“She did.”

He hums. “Who said I haven’t told anyone else?”

I shrug. “I assumed Dom would be the first you’d tell, given you know he’s been helping me. But he hasn’t said anything.”

“I wanted to see if you guys could find anything first.”

“But aside from the timeline, we haven’t. And that pattern is garbage now anyway since no calls came in yesterday. So why do you suddenly want to hear about the investigation?”

“Because the pattern isn’t garbage. We spent all night fighting fire number nine.” Colson’s jaw flexes. “Got the call at eleven last night.”

My eyes widen. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t a wildfire, though. It was a structure fire.”

My brows pull together. “A structure fire?”

Colson nods.

“Where was it?”

He shrugs. “Some old barn about twenty minutes south of here. It was caught before it had a chance to spread into the forest, but fighting it got me thinking about your suspicions and what you might know.”

“Has Dom told you anything?”