Page 57 of Wildfire
She's leaving her car here, so I know I'll be the first to see her again when the tour finishes, but it's cold comfort. At least I have fire season to keep me busy.
We eat breakfast and load her things into the truck, and I drive her over to Trevor's place. He and Jordy are outside, caffeinated and bouncing around like toddlers in a playhouse. I see the excitement build in Renée as she puts her things on the van's roof rack and jokes with her new friends.
The guys pile in the van, and I know it's time to say goodbye. Again, I feel the black hole threatening to suck me in, and I can't find too many reasons to resist it.
The town needs me. Georgia needs me to solve this mystery. That has to be enough.
I pull her in and wrap myself around her, feeding on her warmth. It's the remedy for the cold circling in my gut, but I can only give her a smile and cheer her on. That's the brave thing to do. It's what a real man would do.
We kiss one last time, and then she climbs into the back seat. I stand beside my truck and watch them drive away, and my heart unravels on the sidewalk.
I decided to go see Georgia in the hospital. Maybe she's ready to talk about the fire, and she can shed some light on my hunch that her ex-boyfriend, Jensen, is behind this.
I hop in my truck and gun it to Port Stratton Hospital. The sun is already high in the sky, and it's cooking everything. The grass along the highway that used to stay green all year long is brown, and the edges of the forest are drying up. I pass by the entrance to the park where my brother works and decide to turn around and pay him a visit.
He has a small office in the Ranger station but spends most of his time outside, so I'm not surprised when the woman at the information desk tells me he's out in the field. I text him, and he lets me know he's in the park's southeast quadrant and sends me the coordinates. The lady gives me a topographical map and sends me on my way.
An hour later, I'm covered in sweat from scrambling up some rocky outcroppings and find him near what looks like an old shack that had burnt to the ground.
Cody is a replica of Caleb, except for the hair and clothes. Where Caleb likes to be clean-shaven, Cody is bearded. He's always wearing thick work pants, hiking boots, and a green or brown flannel—a real mountain man to Caleb's slick look.
"Good to see you, brother. You're exactly the guy I wanted to talk to today." He claps me on the back and then points to the remnants of the shack. "I found this about two weeks ago. I keep a perimeter around all the old miner's shacks up here in case something like this happens, so it didn't spread, but this is the second one I found this season."
I leaned toward my brother. "And you're only just telling me now?"
"Woah. Hold up. These old shacks are fires waiting to happen. If it weren't for the Preservation Society wanting to keep them for the tourist trade, I would have pulled them all downyears ago. I didn't think anything of it until I found this at the other one when I went back there this morning."
He pulled out a charred piece of paper that had been rolled up. It was probably used to start the fire. What was interesting was that there was handwriting on it. It was thick, unlined paper, similar to what you'd see in a greeting card. The only words I could still make out were, "This has to end."
"Did you read this?"
"Yeah. That's what I wanted you to see. The handwriting looks like a man wrote it."
"My thoughts exactly. I need to take this."
"Be my guest. I'm combing through the recordings to see if there's anything useful there. I don't usually listen for human sounds, so a grad student is helping me."
"What, did you forget what people sound like?" I poked him in the ribs.
"Something like that."
"You need to come into town more often."
"I get enough of people up here."
I look at my little brother. He keeps his face neutral and covered with facial hair, so I struggle to read him sometimes. But I know there's something he holds back. Ever since his sophomore year in college— which he started a few years early because he's such a brainiac— he's been different.
"What I mean is, you should come over."
My brother raises an eyebrow at me in response.
"Let's have dinner this week."
"What happened, Cole?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit. I haven't seen you in a couple of months, and suddenly, you're up here on the hill with me, and you want me to come to dinner. What happened?"
