Page 57 of Ink and Ashes
Shaking my head, I look back at my car to see Dom laying on his stomach, searching for a sign of what started this. When he comes up empty, I sigh, frustrated that there’s no evidence at this scene either. Whoever’s behind these fires is damn good at covering their tracks, and I’m getting sick of looking for something I’m not even sure is there.
With each day that passes since my article came out that I don’t find anything new, I wonder if Colson was right—if maybe I did jump the gun. Cass mentioned that things have been…chaotic, to say the least, and I know that I’m to blame for that. There’s a reason I’ve spent the past week hiding at the inn, and it’s not because of Emmett’s cooking. It’s because I’m questioning if my eagerness may have clouded my judgement, if publishing made the town extra wary for no reason. Because despite my determination and the evidence I’ve found, I still don’t have enough to prove there’s an arsonist. And if the mechanic doesn’t find anything with my car either, I’m not sure what that will mean.
Annoyed with Colson, his uncle, Ray Morgan, and this entiresituation, I cross my arms over my chest. “Can I go now?”
The two men share a glance before Colson nods. “I’ll call a tow truck to take it to Jimmy’s Garage.”
“Don’t bother.” I scoff. “I’ll handle it myself.”
I shove past Colson as I pull out my phone, leaving him standing with his uncle. Then I dial the number.
Four hoursand a two-hundred-dollar tow-truck bill later, Jimmy re-enters the lobby of Jimmy’s Garage, a small mechanic on the outskirts of Ember Grove. His shop doubles as the towing company, so when he showed up to the scene, I rode back with him to fill him in on the situation. I’ve been waiting in the lobby since we arrived, my anxiety heightening with every minute that passes.
When Jimmy looks at me and says, “Well, Miss Rhodes, it looks like you were right,” my pulse quickens even more. He sets some papers down on the counter as he adds, “Someone did this to your car.”
“Someone set it on fire?”
He shakes his head. “Well, I can’t prove the exact cause of the fire, but I did find evidence that the fuel line was tampered with.” He flips open the file on the desk, showing me a picture of the underneath of my car. He points to a close-up photo of a line that’s been cut in half. “See here? This is your fuel line. That rip is too smooth for it to be wear and tear. My guess is someone cut it.”
“Okay…” I blow out a breath. “How would a cut fuel line cause a fire?”
“Gasoline is highly flammable, and when it leaks, it creates a vapour in the air. Any ignition source could set it off. My guess is when you turned your car on, a spark from the engine connected with the vapour, and it went up.”
I shake my head. “I found it on fire. It wasn’t on.”
Jimmy’s brows pull together as he glances at the file again. Hehums, and I wish I could read his mind.
“Do you think someone could’ve set it intentionally?” I ask.
His eyes narrow slightly, assessing me. But then he says, “It’s possible, but it’s hard to prove something like that without physical evidence. Like I said, any other heat source could’ve caused the car to go up. Vapours can travel far distances. It could’ve been an engine spark from another car nearby, someone lighting a cigarette, or even static electricity. We may never know for sure.”
He continues talking, and I try to focus on the words coming out of his mouth, but the world around me spins. Jimmy may not be able to prove it without evidence, but this is enough proof for me.
I’ve been in plenty of sticky situations through my years as an investigative journalist, but being the target of an arsonist? That’s a new one.
Jimmy’s voice brings me back to the present. “What I do know is that you’re lucky it happened when you weren’t in the vehicle.”
“Why’s that?”
“A fire like this would’ve gone up fast. I’m honestly surprised it didn’t get called in sooner. Was there an explosion?”
I shake my head.
Jimmy hums. “You must have caught it right after it happened then.”
He closes the file as my stomach drops. That likely means that whoever set it was still nearby when I called it in.
“You can take this so you can report it to your insurance and the police, but unfortunately, I can’t let you leave with the car. I’m going to need a few days to uncover the full extent of the damage and determine if it’s even repairable. Do you have someone who can come pick you up?”
“Yeah, I…” I hold up my phone. “I can call someone. Thanks, Jimmy.”
He hands me the file on my car. “Be careful out there, Miss Rhodes. Clearly your business in this town is pissing someone off.”
I swallow roughly, doing my best to fake a smile as I grab the file. Whether or not the fire was set intentionally doesn’t changethe fact that my car was still tampered with. Someone is definitely angry about my presence here, and I’m beginning to wonder if I should be taking these threats more seriously.
Making my way outside, I dial Cassidy’s number.
“Hey,” she says when she answers on the third ring. “Everything okay?”
