Page 36 of Ink and Ashes

Holland

C olson stares at me with hurt written on his face, and it immediately makes me wish I could take it back. But I can’t, and more than that, I shouldn’t. He needs to be aware.

“What did you just say?” Colson asks, his voice rough.

I exhale shakily. “I know this isn’t the kind of thing you want to hear. But I think we need to consider the possibility that the arsonist is a firefighter.”

“No. There’s no way. That’s impossible.” He stands from his chair and begins pacing the dining room. I don’t say anything more for a moment, giving him a chance to process. After a beat, he pauses, looking directly at me. “Isn’t it?”

I blow out a breath. “I don’t think it is.

I didn’t want to tell you this without ruling out all other options first, but it’s been on my mind for some time now.

There are too many precautions being taken—too many aspects about the fires that only someone who sees them day-in and day-out would know.

Whoever this person is, they know fire well enough to start them without drawing attention.

This has likely been going on far longer than anyone realizes.

They’ve been smart about covering their tracks, in a way only someone who studies fire could.

Which leads me to believe it’s one of your guys. ”

He looks at me, anger written clear on his face, but I don’t think it’s directed at me. I think it’s directed at the idea that I could be right, and that someone he knows well, someone he’s close to, could be responsible for them.

“I spent some time watching them today during lunch. There are a few who strike me as potential possibilities. Namely Ray, Travis, and Ollie.”

“Fuck!” Colson shouts, and I flinch. He must notice, because his shoulders fall, and he makes his way over to where I stand. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I don’t know what to think about this.”

“I know.” I roll my lips together. “Is there any chance you would be able to get me the files for everyone at the station? And possibly for past staff too?”

His brows pull together, and I read the question on his face before he has a chance to ask it.

He’s wondering why I want the files for everyone.

“I want to look mainly at Ray, Travis, and Ollie, but I still think it’s worth it to look at everyone else too. Just to make sure we aren’t missing anything.”

“I don’t like this, Rhodes,” he rasps. “I don’t know how I wouldn’t have seen it.”

“I know. And it is still possible I’m wrong about this,” I say in an attempt to reassure him. “But until I learn more, we won’t know for sure.”

“I can’t get the files of the full-timers. They’re in Chief’s office. It isn’t any of us anyway.”

His tone is defensive, but it doesn’t faze me.

“I’ve never thought it was,” I say, and it’s the truth. I’ve never suspected any of the full-timers.

He relaxes a touch. “Okay. Then yes, I…” He lets out a sigh. “I’ll get you th e files.”

I take a seat at the dining room table a few days later, Colson following behind me with the stack of files in his hands.

He hesitantly sets the pile down in front of me, and I glance from them to him.

He grabbed them from the station today, and now he’s going to help me go through them all—look into everyone’s past and see if any of them fit the profile.

It’s invasive and distrusting, and I know Colson’s having a hard time with the idea that it could be one of his guys.

“You don’t have to do this with me,” I tell him for the third time, knowing it won’t make a difference. “I can go through the files on my own and let you know if I find anything worth noting.”

Colson shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says firmly.

I nod, then look toward the files again.

Of the current staff at EGFD, Cass and the other paramedics are out—I know that much for sure.

I’m also ninety-nine percent sure Liv, Jess, and Kelsey aren’t an option either, because the rough profile I’ve concocted based on my research points to a male between the ages of twenty-five and forty.

Those parameters rule out quite a few of the other crew members—including Ray and Ollie—but age is the hardest part of a profile to predict, so I’m not willing to dismiss any of them until I’ve gone through each and every one of their files.

The only firefighters I’m certain aren’t behind these are Dom and the one standing next to me. Dom’s been too involved in the case to be the one responsible, and he’s been with me during times when they’ve received calls.

As for Colson, I technically haven’t cleared him, but I also never once considered him a suspect.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s who I’ve gotten to know the best through all this, or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t fit the profile for an arsonist. Whatever it is, though, there hasn’t been a single moment in my investigation where I’ve wondered if he could be the one setting these fires .

I’ve learned to trust my gut in this career. And despite the rocky start we got off on, my gut has always told me that I’m safe around Colson.

“Are you ready for this?” I ask cautiously, not wanting to set him off. Since he started staying across the hall, things have been good between us. But he was resistant for so long, and I know that if I say the wrong thing, we could end up right back where we started.

Colson nods, taking a seat next to me at the table.

We start by going through the files of guys who don’t volunteer for EGFD anymore.

There are a few that stand out to him as potential suspects, so I start two piles: one of people we’ve cleared, and one of people to look into more.

Once we’ve run through all those, we move onto the files of current volunteers.

I pull the folder off the top of the pile sitting in the middle of the table. Opening it, I find a smiling picture of Brian Finnegan staring back at me. I glance at Colson, tension flowing off him in waves as he stares at the pile of folders.

“Colson?” I say softly as I place my hand on his forearm, pulling his attention back to me.

He relaxes a bit, his mossy eyes meeting mine. “Sorry.” He glances down at the folder. “No way in hell is it Finn,” he says defensively. “He has a family that he loves more than life itself. He’s the best husband and father, and he would never jeopardize his family like that. No way.”

I nod, agreeing. I don’t know Finn all that well, but I’ve spoken to him a few times and I’ve seen his wife and daughters around over the past few weeks.

He’s been kind enough to check in with me regarding the investigation, offering his help and letting me know he’s happy to help if I need anything, but not to the point where he’s desperate to be involved.

Unlike with all the other firefighters who have either given me the cold shoulder or flirted with me, Finn has seemed genuine.

And from what I can tell, he’s one of the most loved guys at the station—friends with everyone, mentor to the younger guys, and good at keeping everyone in check.

I couldn’t imagine him being the one responsible for the fires.

So I close his file and move onto the next one: Ray Morgan.

Colson speaks before I have a chance to say anything. “It isn’t Ray either. He may be an asshole, but he’s not an arsonist.”

I nod, agreeing with him. I may not like the guy, but Colson’s right, and he doesn’t fit the profile anyway.

“Okay,” I say easily, then add his file to the pile of people who are clear.

We continue to run through the files of Ace, Hayden, Mickey, Wade, and Caleb, concluding that, as I predicted, none of them fit the profile either. It isn’t until I open the file for Travis Hart that Colson pauses.

He knows Travis is on my list of potential suspects.

He’s in his late thirties, doesn’t talk much, and is good at flying under the radar.

He does what he’s told with no exceptions, but he also doesn’t go above and beyond in his work, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

The only reason I haven’t looked at him further yet is because I’m not sure what his motivation would be.

Some people are just quiet and reserved—it doesn’t make them an arsonist.

“What do you know about Travis?” I ask Colson.

He keeps his gaze trained on the file. “Hart had a difficult childhood. He was in and out of the foster system before running away at eighteen and eventually finding his way here. He does have a history of petty crimes—shoplifting, trespassing… But they were out of necessity. He was homeless with no money and trying to stay alive. Once he started working at the station, he cleaned up his act. My dad mentored him, and his record was expunged after he turned eighteen.” Colson shakes his head. “It can’t be him.”

I hesitantly set Travis’s folder on top of the pile of potential suspects. “Would you talk to your dad about him anyway?”

Colson’s jaw flexes, his hands balling into fists atop the table. I gently place my hand over his, my eyes conveying what my words can’t.

I know this can’t be easy for him. He’s worked with these guys for years—they’re family to him. The idea that any of them could be responsible for what they’ve gone through over the past few months is hard enough for me to process. I can only imagine what must be going through his mind right now.

“Colson?”

He jerks his head roughly. His voice is firm as he says, “I’ll talk to him.” Then he glances down at the last folder sitting in front of me. “Ollie?”

“Yeah. Ollie.”

Colson looks up at me, as if trying to read my mind.

I’ve suspected Ollie for a little bit now, and I think Colson’s finally figuring that out.

He doesn’t quite meet the age parameters, but everything else about him fits—the extreme intelligence, the awkwardness in social situations, single and living at home.

He’s also the newest to the team, and therefore the one the guys know the least about.

“He doesn’t fit all of the profile, though,” Colson says, his voice raspy.

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t him.”

“You’re the one who made the profile. Now you’re telling me that your top suspect doesn’t even fit the criteria?”

Colson’s voice grows angry, but I stay calm. I know he’s just frustrated. If it turns out to be Ollie, Colson will beat himself up for it. He’s the one who hired him, after all.

“A profile is just a guideline. A rough estimation. And the age aspect is always the hardest part to predict. He meets every other part of it.”

Colson shakes his head, unable to tear his eyes from the picture of the probie.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to,” I continue.

“Ollie is new… You don’t know him very well yet.

He also had a rough childhood and has a history with the police.

He’s secretive and keeps to himself, and he isn’t great at making friends.

Something about him has rubbed me the wrong way since I met him. ”

His brows pull together. “So that makes him an arsonist?”

“No, but it doesn’t not make him one either. There have been signs. I don’t know anything for sure, but my gut is telling me to at least…consider him a suspect until proven otherwise.”

“Isn’t the line ‘innocent until proven guilty?’”

I let out a breath. “In typical circumstances, yes. But I’m not saying he’s guilty. I’m saying we should look into him more. Watch him.”

“Just…” He holds out his hand, trying to gather my thoughts. “What would his motivation be?”

“If it is him, he’s an excitement-motivated arsonist with a God complex of sorts.

He’s setting these fires so he can fight them, prove his worth, impress you guys.

He looks up to you all, and I think all he wants is to stop being the probie and show you guys what he can do.

He wants validation that he’s doing a good job.

He’s been careful not to hurt anyone yet, but you guys know fire is unpredictable.

He hasn’t learned that yet. I think he needs to. ”

“Isn’t Ollie a bit too young to be behind this?”

“Arsonists usually start as teenagers and grow from there. If I’m right, Ollie has had years to perfect his craft.”

“But there’s no way he would’ve gotten away with it as a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old.”

“Ollie only moved here a few years ago, though. He could’ve been getting away with it wherever he lived prior and was good enough to hide it by the time he came here.

” I swallow roughly. “Besides, I think there’s something about this year specifically that has caused their behaviour to escalate.

It’s likely that until now, the arsonist was only setting one or two fires a year.

Enough to fuel their urge, but not enough to raise concern. ”

Colson grits his teeth together, blowing out a breath. “This is a lot to process.”

“I know.” I tilt my head down, closing the file and setting it on top of Travis’s. His eyes track every movement, and when I turn back to him, they’re trained on me.

I roll my lips together, braving myself to ask my next question. I don’t believe any of the full-time firefighters could be responsible for this, and I know Colson’s going to deny it whether I ask or not. But in favour of covering all my bases, I do it anyway .

“I hate to ask this…but are you absolutely positive it’s not Beau or Pierce?”

Fire lights in Colson’s eyes. “Don’t ever fucking ask me that again. I told you it’s none of the careers, and I don’t wanna hear another word about any of them.”

With that, he pushes his chair back and storms out of the dining room. I watch him leave, then flinch at the sound of the door to his room slamming shut.

Guilt eats away at me as I glance back at the stacks of folders on the table, and I let out a sigh.

I’ve always loved my job, and I’ve always been good at not getting too invested in the people I’ve worked with.

But this case is turning out to be the hardest I’ve ever worked on, and not just because arson isn’t my area of expertise, though that is a big part of it.

But the real reason is Colson. I’ve grown attached to him, the rough way his voice says my name, the way his green eyes sparkle when he looks at me, how my blood boils when we argue, and the way he goes out of his way to protect me.

And I know it’s probably just him trying to make it up to me after being such an ass when I first arrived, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s more than that too.

Knowing that what I’m doing here is hurting him this much breaks my heart. But knowing that what I’m doing here could also save not just him, but his whole town, almost makes it worth it.

Almost .

I just hope I turn out to be right.