Page 66 of Single Mom's Firemen

Hoffman nods in agreement, then keeps flipping through my file. “You never pressed any charges against Colby during your marriage.”

“No.”

“I presume you were pressured into keeping your mouth shut.”

I nod. “I also didn’t know that what I was experiencing was literal abuse until he actually hit me,” I sigh deeply, going over the many decisions, some smart, others not so much, that brought me to this point.

“And you filed charges after you left.”

I nod again. “Yes, but none of them stuck. Harriet’s lawyers are really good at swatting this stuff away.”

“True enough, but there will be a record of charges filed. Add those to what has happened in the past few months, along with the restraining order and the BOLO, and it’s already looking bad for Colby. By association it will look poorly for his mother as well. We simply need to be careful in how we control the narrative before the judge.”

And in how we cover our asses. The less people know about the Danson men and me, the better.

26

Wyatt

Charlie Drucker welcomes us into his office one morning with a huge grin on his face.

“How’s Halle holding up?” he asks as Eric and I take a seat on the guest sofa.

“She’s holding up,” I tell Charlie. “As well as she can.”

“She’s ready to bolt,” Eric grumbles. “Whether we like to admit it or not.”

Charlie lets a heavy sigh roll from his chest. “Then you’d better not share any of the information that I’m about to give you with her.”

“What’s going on?” Eric asks, his brow furrowed.

We just got off a twenty-four-hour shift, and we’re beyond exhausted.

“We’ve got reason to believe that the warehouse fire was arson,” Charlie says. “We’ve identified the same type of accelerant that was found at the diner.”

“You’re kidding,” I gasp, instantly connecting the dots.

“They filled the canisters at the same station, at least,” Charlie continues. “What are the odds that it was a coincidence, given that they had people dressed up as firefighters, ready to greet you once you came in?”

The realization sinks my stomach into the floor. It’s hard for me to breathe as I remember the carnage and the tragedy that ensued in that place. We worked our asses off to save as many employees as possible, but sadly, the death toll jumped past one hundred in the end. It was a fucking nightmare and a tragedy that never had to happen.

“Charlie, hold up,” I say, trying to keep myself anchored somehow. “Are you saying that Colby Nash started the warehouse fire?”

“It would make sense,” Charlie replies. “Either he did it or one of his associates. He’s clearly not doing any of this alone. He’s got people covering for him, helping him hide, doing his dirty work.”

“Figures, he’s mama’s little boy,” Eric scoffs. “He killed a lot of people with that warehouse fire, man.”

“I don’t think that was the plan though,” Charlie says. “I think the warehouse itself was severely problematic in terms of fire safety, and Nash simply didn’t know it would go up in flames the way it did. That it would escalate to that point.”

I shake my head slowly. “It still sounds astonishingly half-assed.”

“Does Colby Nash strike you as some kind of criminal mastermind?” Charlie chuckles dryly. “The man has cash to burn and a narcissistic character to soothe. His guys don’t give a shit as long as they get paid, and his mother is working overtime to mitigate the PR nightmare. Frankly, she doesn’t stand a chance, but all we can do is watch her flail until she takes the wrong step. She’s going to make a mistake soon enough.”

“We need Colby to make a mistake,” Eric snaps. “He’s responsible for so many deaths. Charlie, you weren’t inside with us. You didn’t see what we saw.”

Charlie gives us a hard, saddened look. “No, but I’ve been poring over crime scene photos for the past couple of days. I saw the damage it did. There’s no unseeing any of it.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “My captain has agreed to put a task force together. Arson is gonna run point, mind you, but the Feds and the ATF are getting involved too. It’s too big for us.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

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