Page 24 of Ink and Ashes

Holland

I leave the fire station with glares from a few of the firefighters, Ray Morgan included, and it sends a shiver up my spine.

Even though Colson’s not quite there yet, I can sense I’m starting to get through to him, and I’ve been holding onto the hope that once I do, others will fall in line too.

But judging from the looks on their faces right now, I’m not sure I’ll be so lucky.

I swallow roughly as I walk by them, and when I catch the small smirk playing across Ray’s narrowed eyes, I make a mental note to keep an eye on him.

To this point, I haven’t given a ton of thought to who could be responsible for the fires, despite my positivity that someone is.

But not for a lack of trying—more for a lack of knowing.

Everyone in this town is just as suspicious of me as I am of them, which means no one is willing to talk to me.

People walk in the opposite direction when they see me coming or give me snide remarks when I do manage to approach.

I can’t exactly narrow down the suspect pool when no one will provide me with information.

The only personal suspects I’ve had are George from the paper and Liam from the café.

But George has been nothing but helpful toward my investigation so far, and his only motivation for starting them would be for the stories.

But there aren’t many stories on fires from the paper, and with his age, I don’t think he’d have the energy to hike hours into the woods and back to set a fire anyway.

I haven’t completely discounted him, but he’s not at the top of my list.

Liam, on the other hand, I do still have suspicions about.

I’ve run into him a few times over the past week and a half since I first spoke with him, and each time he’s shown a significant interest in the fires.

He’s even gone so far as to offer his help multiple times, which I’ve politely refused.

But it raises a massive red flag for me, because Liam has no connections to any part of this case, so it’s weird that he would want to get involved.

And after his comment the other morning about how he would hate to see something happen to me, those flags are up even higher.

Criminals love to insert themselves into investigations, and that’s exactly what Liam has been trying to do. He doesn’t fit a single piece of the rough profile I’ve put together for the arsonist, but his behaviour every time I’ve been around still has me questioning whether it could be him.

I also did look into Tony Watkins, the guy Liam suggested.

My suspicions toward Liam made me wonder if giving me Tony’s name was just a cover-up, but after looking into him more, I discovered that Tony does fit an arsonist profile.

He’s a loner, has a criminal record, and a history—and present—with substance abuse.

But it’s hard to pinpoint what his motivation would be based on what I’ve found online, and I’m not about to start accusing a drug dealer of arson without real evidence.

I also don’t really think a firefighter would be responsible, which all but rules out Ray. It seems wild to me that someone who has dedicated themselves to putting out fires would also be the person responsible for setting them.

But that doesn’t stop me from moving Ray up my metaphorical list of suspects. Something about him rubs me the wrong way, and it’s not just how his gaze lingers a little too long on my ass. He doesn’t quite fit the parameters of an arsonist profile, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t one.

Steeling my expression, I continue walking by without a second glance. When I make it to my car, I hop inside and lock the doors before heading in the direction of Dom’s house.

The drive from the station to his place is short, and once I arrive, I make my way to his front door. Before I have a chance to knock, he swings it open.

Brows tight, he says, “Hey. I was actually just about to come by the inn.”

I chuckle. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“I have the day off so was wondering if you wanted to go check out the barn scene. We cleared it the other day, but even though FI labelled it an accident, it’s still bothering me. I wanna take another look through, see if I can find something we missed the first time.”

I reach into my purse and pull out the Ziploc bag. “Something like this?”

His brows tighten further as he examines the bag. “Should’ve figured you’d go without me. Come on in.”

He opens the door wider to allow me inside, and I follow him toward his dining room table.

“Liv mentioned you guys cleared it, and I was eager to check it out myself.” Dom fills two glasses with water, placing one in front of me before taking a seat across the table. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” he says, then turns his attention to the bag. “What is this?”

I slide the bag across the table so he can take a closer look. “It’s the tab of a candle wick. I don’t know if it’s actually anything, but it seems odd to me that there would be candles in a barn.”

Dom nods. “It is, though people do all sorts of weird things. Might’ve just been stored there. There’s a good chance it’s been in there since the Wellands were still around.”

“Colson said the same thing.”

Dom rolls his lips together. “Did you only find one?”

I nod .

He hums. “I don’t know why there would only be one if it was being stored there, but it also seems odd that the arsonist would use a candle as their form of ignition, especially knowing it would leave behind evidence.” Dom holds the bag up, looking closer at the tab inside.

I ponder that for a moment before I say, “What if they did it because it would leave behind evidence?”

“What do you mean?”

I point at the bag. “They knew we would find this, and they also probably knew we would conclude that it wasn’t actually what caused the fire—that it just happened to be in the barn.

They knew that using a candle would leave evidence, but also that it doesn’t necessarily point to anything or anyone. They did it to fuck with us.”

“You might be onto something.” Dom’s eyes narrow in the direction of the bag. “But there’s no way to know for sure.”

“That’s exactly the point.” I pick up the Ziploc bag.

“There’s no way to prove that this was the cause of the fire, but there’s no way to prove it wasn’t either.

If I continue this investigation on the assumption that the barn fire was caused by a candle, it may help narrow things down.

If I don’t, though, we’re back to square one. ”

Dom is silent for a moment, running a hand through his hair. Then he says, “I think it’s worth it to try every angle, so go for it. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up unless we can find evidence of candles at some of the other scenes.”

I hadn’t even considered that. But now that I think about it, it’s possible the arsonist has been using candles or some other form of ignition that burns away in the flames this whole time.

And if that’s the case, the chances of us finding something at one of the other scenes, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem, is high.

“I won’t. But speaking of, can we check out some more scenes tomorrow?”

He nods. We make a plan to meet up the next morning, then I say goodbye and head out to my car.

It’s nearing nine o’clock in the morning by the time Dom and I make it to the scene of the sixth fire—the one they were fighting when I arrived in town.

We left this morning just before six in an effort to beat the heat, but even with all the smoke in the air, the sun beats down on us, making the hike even more exhausting.

I take a deep breath as Dom slows his pace, giving me a chance to catch up. I had to invest in a pair of good hiking boots after the first scene I visited on my own, but even they aren’t helping with the ache in my feet from the rough terrain beneath me.

“You good?” Dom asks, passing me a bottle of water.

I undo the cap and take a sip, nodding. “I do Pilates. Hiking like this just isn’t what I’m used to,” I admit, and Dom huffs a laugh.

“I can tell. But for what it’s worth, you’re doing well.”

I shake my head with a smile, wondering if my face is as red as it feels.

“The fire started just over that ridge,” Dom says, pointing north.

I jerk my head, then pull myself into gear and continue walking.

We make it over the ridge in no time. Dom leads me toward the point of ignition they identified, and we spend some time searching the area for anything unusual.

This fire was put out at 7.4 hectares, which means there’s a lot of area for us to cover.

Considering we’re looking for something as small as a candle wick tab, I don’t have much hope.

We have yet to find one at the scene of any other fire, and until we do, there’s no way to confirm that candles are the arsonist’s choice of ignition.

Like with the other fires that have spanned over a hectare, Dom wasn’t able to find any evidence of a holdover fire, and neither was Fire Investigation.

They ended up labelling this one as unknown, which has become the norm for fires in this area lately.

But instead of looking deeper into them, they’re brushing them under the rug, leaving us to do the dirty work ourselves .

We search for hours, our heavy breathing and the rustle of debris on the forest floor the only sounds as we dig through it. A few times, one of us calls out, thinking we’ve found something, only to be met with nothing. With each false alarm, my frustration and sense of defeat grow.

“Rhodes, over here,” Dom calls then, and I let out a groan. I’m sure this one will be nothing too, but I make my way over anyway.

Dom is kneeled on the ground, digging through some dirt before he picks something up. His brows are furrowed as he holds it close to his face, blowing some of the dust off. I stand above him, unable to make out what it is until he moves to his feet and spins around, holding it out to me.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asks, and I stare down at the little silver metal circle.

My heart rate accelerates and feels like it’s falling into my stomach all at once.

Candle wick tab.

I pull on a pair of latex gloves, then take the tab from Dom. Like the one I found at the barn, there’s some ash on it, and it’s dirty from being out here with the elements. But there’s no question in my mind that this is a candle wick tab.

Finding one in the barn was one thing. There were a multitude of explanations for why it was in there, so it didn’t really prove anything.

But finding one out here? That makes no sense.

There’s absolutely no reason a candle would be out here unless someone put it here. And that can only mean one thing.

“This town has an arsonist,” is all I say, keeping my eyes trained on the tab.

Dom swallows roughly, clearing his throat. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

We lock eyes, both of us anxious and frightened, but I’ve also never felt surer of myself than I do right now. Finding this tab is the proof I’ve been looking for, and it shows me that I do still have what it takes to figure this out.

I’m right .

Before leaving, Dom and I take another quick look around and happen upon a second tab, which gives me even more strength and determination. We make the long hike back to the road and I drop Dom off at his place before returning to the inn.

As soon as I do, I get to work on finishing the article I’ve spent the past month working on.

The evidence we found today was the final piece I needed before I publish, and now that I have it, I’m not willing to wait any longer.

My deadline to have it included in next week’s paper is tonight at midnight, and I’ll just barely make it.

When I finish, I don’t let myself think twice before sending it off to George.

Shutting down my computer, I exhale deeply, both out of relief and nerves.

There’s a good chance that publishing the article might screw any chance of figuring this thing out.

It’ll put a bigger target on myself, and it’ll probably only make the town more wary of me.

But it’s a risk I’m willing to take if it means getting to the bottom of all this.

I probably should’ve told Dom I was writing it, but I also didn’t want to give him a chance to talk me out of it.

I wasn’t even planning on submitting it for this week, but after what we found today, nothing will convince me this town doesn’t have an arsonist. It may be premature to start spreading the news through the town, but this article is my opportunity to make people listen to me.

And with any luck, it’ll pull the arsonist out of the woodwork and give me a better shot of finding them.

I’m sure Colson is going to lose his mind when he reads this, and Dom is likely to question my motives too.

But it needs to be said, and this is the only way I can force people to listen.

So I try not to dwell on that anxiety—the damage has already been done.

I’ve sent it off, and there’s no taking it back now.

Come Sunday morning, everyone will know that this town has an arsonist.