Page 102 of Heating Up (Nugget)
“What are you doing with the Ford?” Aidan pointed through the window.
“Checking the brakes. The owner is taking it to a car show this weekend.” He cued up a picture on his phone and showed it to Aidan. “That’s what it used to look like until we restored it.”
Aidan let out a murmur of appreciation. The photo showed a rusted, dented piece of junk. “Nice job. Must be worth a fortune now.”
“Nah, but it’s good-looking. The former owner primarily used it on his ranch to haul hay but kept it outside, where the elements took their toll. The new owner, a collector, only uses it for car shows, parades, that sort of thing, and keeps it in a garage.”
“Beautiful job.” Aidan turned when he heard Griff come into the store.
He nodded his head in greeting. “You come to view the security footage?”
“Yeah,” Rhys said. “How far back can we go?”
“Friday. But the pictures will be grainy. Come on up to my office.”
They went outside and climbed a staircase to a second-story apartment someone had converted into work space, leaving a small kitchen and a bathroom with a tub intact. Griffin had a television where they could look at the surveillance recordings. Pulling up a couple of chairs, he rewound the footage to midnight on Friday.
“This is the best angle I have of Main Street,” he said.
“Actually, could we focus on the gas pumps?” Aidan asked.
Griff shot him a questioning look and changed the frame. “What’s so interesting about the pumps?”
“Our arsonist used gasoline in two of the fires,” Rhys said. “We’re looking to see if anyone filled a gas can. But we’d like you to keep that information under your hat for the sake of the investigation.”
“No problem, but a lot of people use gas cans, especially this time of year . . . for their boats, ATVs, Jet Skis, you name it.”
“We’re aware of that,” Rhys said.
“Then why . . . ah, you’re looking for someone in particular?”
“I didn’t say that,” Rhys said in a Texas drawl that Aidan noticed came and went with his mood. According to Sloane, the police chief had worked for Houston PD for more than a decade before coming back to head up his hometown department.
“Whatever.” Griffin chuckled. “This’ll take some time; you want something to drink?”
“I’ll take a Coke if you’ve got one,” Rhys said, and Aidan asked for one too.
Griffin handed Aidan the remote control and wandered into the kitchen to grab the drinks. They made small talk while Aidan fast-forwarded the recording until he caught a human in the frame. If he or she was just filling a car tank, Aidan moved on.
“Stop it for a second,” Rhys said. “Isn’t that Cal Addison?” It was a fuzzy picture of a man pumping gas into a red, five-gallon gas can.
“Don’t know him,” Aidan replied.
Griff came over and hunkered over Rhys’s shoulder, scrutinizing the frame. “Yep, that’s him.”
Rhys laughed. “What? Did the bear T-shirt give it away?” He explained to Aidan that Addison and his wife owned the Beary Quaint, a motor lodge up the road. Aidan had driven past it a few times. A fire waiting to happen with all those chainsaw bears in the yard.
“He’s got a fishing boat,” Griffin said. “Takes it out on Lake Davis.”
Rhys nudged his head at the screen, indicating that Aidan should continue fast-forwarding. They went through the footage over the next couple of hours. Aidan thought it was a little like watching paint dry, except for the occasional play-by-play on the various residents shown in the pictures.
“You hear he’s getting a divorce?” or “You see that new Ram he just bought? That had to set him back at least fifty thousand bucks.”
But by the time they finished, they still had nada. No signs that Rigsby had gotten his accelerant at the Gas and Go. So far, the only thing they had on the guy was the stinkin’ shirt. They went back to Rhys’s vehicle so they could talk without Griffin overhearing them.
“Should we yank him in?” Rhys asked.
“What other option do we have?”
