Page 1 of Burning Truth

1

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning debris. Addie Kingston stepped out of the news van, her eyes wide with shock as she took in the devastation before her. Java Joy, the coffee shop on the bottom floor of an old warehouse, had been reduced to a smoldering wreck, its windows blown out and burning pieces of furniture scattered across the sidewalk. Sirens wailed in the distance, and the flashing lights of emergency vehicles bathed the scene in a surreal, strobe-like glow.

“Get the camera rolling,” Addie instructed her cameraman, Jake, who was already gathering his gear. “We need to capture everything.”

Jake nodded, his lined face set in grim determination. Addie knew he was as shaken as she was—they both got coffee here regularly—but they had a job to do. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. The psychology of arsonists dictated that they often returned to the scene of their crimes, seeking to relive the chaos they had created. Every detail mattered.

“Scan the area,” she directed. “We need to get footage of everything—the damage, the emergency response, the bystanders. And make sure to get close-ups of the blast radius.”

She didn’t know why she told him. Jake had been in the business a long time. As he moved through the wreckage, Addie pulled out her notebook and began jotting down observations. The blast had been powerful, targeting a popular spot. The only saving grace was that it was in the middle of the night, when the shop was closed. It wasn’t just about the physical damage—it was about sending a message. But what was the message? And who was behind it?

She approached a firefighter who was directing the efforts to douse the remaining flames. “Any idea what caused this, Chief Black?” she asked.

The firefighter, a grizzled veteran with soot-streaked cheeks who had spoken to her before, shook his head. “Too early to tell. Could be anything from a gas leak to something more sinister. But judging by the pattern of the blast, it looks deliberate.”

“It’s him again, isn’t it?”

The older man looked at her for a long moment. “Off the record? Yes, I think so.”

Addie’s heart sank. Deliberate meant premeditated and premeditated meant the likelihood of more attacks. She thanked the chief and continued to survey the scene, her mind racing with questions. Who would do this? And why?

Addie stared up at the inferno, her mind reeling. Even from this far away, the heat was absolutely scorching. She couldn’t imagine how hot the firefighters were charging into the building.

She glanced behind her at Jake, the cameraman. The big, state-of-the-art camera was already up on his shoulder. “Are you getting all this?” she asked.

Jake nodded and started toward the melee. Grabbing her mic, Addie charged after him. Fastening her pale blue linenjacket closed, she minced over the sidewalk, wishing she’d left her tennis shoes on. It wasn’t like the camera saw her feet, anyway.

Jake tripped over a curb as he tried to get into a better position and she reached out to steady his shoulder. Though he’d been doing this a long time, when you had 30 pounds of camera on your shoulder, it was sometimes hard to maneuver.

The building that was burning was an old monstrosity that was being revitalized. Years ago, it had been a fabric warehouse. Once the company had gone under in the 80s, the building had faded into disrepair. After a while, squatters had moved in, and that was her fear now. She knew people had been living in the upper parts of the building as recently as three months ago because she’d done a segment on the struggling homeless population on the east side. Mama Kate had spoken to her at length, and she’d visited her once since then. Mama Kate took in and guided a lot of lost souls, and she tried to create a home for them.

Was it above board? No. Absolutely not. But sometimes the squatters were incredibly hard to remove. As she looked up at the blazing warehouse, she truly hoped there was no one inside.

“Are you ready,” Jake asked her, planting his camera on a tripod, the blazing building behind her.

Addie nodded, looking back one last time. Then, taking a smoke-laden breath that almost made her cough, she straightened her shoulders and looked into the eye of the camera.

“This is Addie Kingston, reporting live from the scene of a devastating fire in downtown Columbus. Earlier today, a powerful explosion ripped through the popular coffee shop Java Joy on the bottom floor of the building, leaving behind a trail of destruction and panic. While the cause of the blast remains under investigation, initial reports suggest foul play. Authoritiesare urging the public to remain vigilant as they work tirelessly to uncover the truth behind this horrific act. If you have any information, please call the Columbus Fire Department at ….”

The segment would air during the prime-time slot, a quick yet powerful clip designed to grab viewers’ attention and keep them informed. Addie could see it in her mind’s eye, and the way Ron, her producer, would edit the information and place the segment for the most impact.

She filmed for a solid twenty minutes, repositioning, then talking to a couple of bystanders that had seen the blast. They were laughing, high on excitement, and it made her sick that they could be rejoicing in the face of such destruction.

Despite the summer night, and the radiating heat from the blaze, a chill ran over her skin, and she glanced around the area. The crowd ebbed and swelled as they gawked and wondered out loud what had happened. One man caught her attention. Exceptionally tall, his arms were crossed over his strong chest and his feet planted as he stared up at the blazing building. He was taller than most of the crowd around him, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. No, it was the look of fear in his dark eyes. Not fear, dread. Pain. Regret. So many things. Her own heart ached in empathy.

Addie knew people. She could read the expressions on their faces, and she knew when there was information to be found. Before she could give herself a chance to think, she started wading through the people.

She was within ten feet of the man when he suddenly glanced at her, as if he felt her presence. Addie felt the force of that look like a lightning strike, her tummy turning. In the light of the fire, she could see the broken texture of his face. It wasn’t a beard. It was scar tissue, all down the left side of his face, curtaining slightly over his left eye and shortening the dark left brow. Sheopened her mouth to say something to him, but he spun away and faded through the crowd quicker than she could follow.

Addie shook her head, wondering if she’d imagined what she’d just seen and felt. Wondering if she’d just seen the arsonist.

Severn Moran backedaway from the blazing building, not understanding the sick fascination that had drawn him to it. He’d been walking on the street a few blocks away when he’d heard the blast, and he’d sprinted toward the sound. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done that. It had been years since he’d been in the military, and it wasn’t his responsibility to respond to anything anymore, other than the jobs his boss sent him on.

It was some kind of instinctive fear he’d responded to. The sound of an IED explosion was unique, and he could tell that this one hadn’t been big, but big enough to cause damage. And it had obviously been big enough to light an entire warehouse on fire. He hoped there was no one inside, because the building had been completely engulfed.

The present faded away as he’d stared up at the roiling danger. He could feel that fire crawling across his skin, layering pain over pain with no surcease. Standing fifty yards away, he could feel the heat on his sensitive skin, and it reminded him of horror. The horror of lives lost, the horror of not being one of the ones to find silence. For some reason, he had been chosen to live, and he would wonder why for the rest of his life.

More and more fire trucks pulled onto the scene, and a news van squeezed between them but out of the way. Of course, the vultures would be here. The little news reporter dropped out of the van and trotted around the front, dodging firefighters andhoses. She said something to the cameraman, and they moved into a position to film the carnage.

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