Page 44 of Ink and Ashes
Liv glances at the empty one-litre wine bottle on the counter before turning toward me. “You bring more wine?”
Both Kelsey and Blair walked in with wine bottles too, but I simply nod.
“Then we’re good.”
Just like that, the tension I was feeling a moment ago washes away. I still doubt any of them will be as willing to trust me as Cass has been, but at least they aren’t immediately jumping to conclusions.
We grab our food and wine, then make our way back into Cass’s living room.
“So, you guys found nothing at the scene?” Cassidy asks as we get comfortable around the coffee table.
Jess shakes her head. “Not even an ignition site, and neither did Fire Investigation.”
Kelsey meets my gaze while she speaks next. “At this point, we’re not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.”
Cass looks at me and I let out a sigh.
It’s definitely bad, but I don’t say that out loud.
“Dom doesn’t think it was an accident,” Liv adds. “He told FI that he’d look more into it. He was going to give you a call after shift, but I told him we’d fill you in.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
She smiles before the conversation shifts to a new topic, but my mind stays locked on the barn fire for the rest of the night.
Looks like I have a trip to make tomorrow.
The driveto fifteen thirty-eight Creighton Valley Road is short but beautiful, the rural winding roads guiding me through the mountains. It only takes twenty minutes before my GPS is telling me the address is coming up on my right. I slow my car to a roll as the driveway appears.
After I left the fire station yesterday morning, I spent most of my day looking into the property before going over to Cassidy’s. It wasn’t an accident that the arsonist chose a structure this time around, and I wanted to find out if this specific location held any significance to the area.
It’s significant, alright. Turns out this property, once known as the Welland Ranch, was the location of the worst structure fire EGFD has ever faced. Thirty years ago, the house went up in flames in the middle of the night, and it ultimately took both parents and two of their three children with it.
I wasn’t expecting this investigation to be happy, but I definitely wasn’t expecting anything as horrific as this.
After learning about the history of this house, I prepared myself for what to expect. But as I turn onto the hundred-acre property, struck with the view of a half-burnt farmhouse, the barn behind it nearly in ashes, I realize nothing could’ve prepared me for this.
In my research on this land and the family, I’d begun wondering if the only surviving child, Joseph Welland, could be responsible for the fires. It seemed the most likely possibility, given what happened to his parents and siblings when he was young. He’s likely to have a lot of trauma from losing his whole family and then growing up in the system, and it wouldn’t have surprised me to learn he came back to the area he grew up in with a penchant for setting fires.
But that idea was quickly squashed when I stumbled upon a death record for him, ten years after the fire had happened. He was twenty-five. The cause of death was unknown, and with hishistory, it could’ve been anything.
Being here now, staring at the two burned buildings, I can’t help but wonder why the arsonist chose this location to burn. This specific location, with its history, makes me wonder if it’s someone who was close to the Welland family. This year marks thirty years since the main house burned down, so it seems odd to me that this happened to be the year the barn caught fire too.
The possibility that this wasn’t the arsonist at all has crossed my mind. Despite the significance of fire on this property, there’s nothing and no one around for kilometres, and everyone from the only family who lived in this house has been dead for at least twenty years. The barn is made entirely of old, rotting wood, and from all I’ve learned, is the ideal structure for a lightning fire.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to check it out anyway.
As I pull my car down the long driveway, past the blackened farmhouse that has never been fully repaired, toward the back of the property where the barn sits, my shoulders fall in defeat. If this was the arsonist, I’m going to have a hard time proving it. There’s nothing left of the building that once stood here—the roof and walls are completely caved in, and my guess is that any evidence there was burned in the fire.
I get out of my vehicle anyway and head inside. It’s overcast and smoke still fills the air, but with the roof gone, it’s bright enough that I don’t need my flashlight. Walking carefully, I pull on a set of latex gloves as I make my way through what’s left of the building, keeping my eyes peeled for any indication of an accelerant or ignition site.
As I expected, there isn’t much remaining. There are a few areas that look like they could be the point of ignition, but with how burnt everything is, it’s hard to tell for sure.
I spend about an hour searching the barn, hoping I can find something that EGFD or FI missed. But nothing pops out. That is, until the sun peeks through the clouds and reflects off something shiny, catching my attention. When I turn in the direction of the light, it disappears. My brows pull together and I adjust my angle, hoping to see it again.
I walk toward the general location I first saw it, and when I’m a few feet away, the sun catches again. Heart racing, I dart forward. I’m careful as I dig through the ashes to find a small, metallic circle. It’s no larger than my thumb nail, and though it’s bent and burnt, I can tell right away that it’s a tab from a candle wick.
My eyes widen, my heart rate picking up. Maybe it was the arsonist after all. Why else would there be evidence of a candle if it hadn’t been?
