Page 68 of Ink and Ashes
“Well? Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Dom urges, making his way deeper into the dining room. His eyes scan over all the evidence laid out on the table before he takes the seat across from Colson.
Colson nods at me, a silent signal that I should be the one to fill Dom in on the past twenty-four hours.
On an exhale, I say, “Jimmy told me that the fuel line on my car was tampered with.” I shuffle through the files, searching for the one Jimmy gave me. When I find it, I hand it to Dom. “He’s not sure if the fire was intentional or not, but it seems too convenient for it not to be. And it was the only fire you guys got called to yesterday.”
“So it was fire number ten,” Dom concludes, coming to the same realization both Colson and I did.
I nod, and he continues scanning the file.
“Show him the emails too,”Colson adds.
Dom’s brows furrow. “What emails?”
I swallow, pulling up my inbox on my computer and navigate to the one I received yesterday first. A chill runs up my spine as I read it again, and Dom’s brows pull even tighter as he does too.
“The first one I received was from the same address and same format, but all it said wasI’m watching you. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but coupled with the note, this email, and my car being tampered with…”
“It appears the arsonist is after you now.”
I nod.
Dom blows out a breath, leaning back in his chair. I can tell thoughts are racing through his mind, as if he’s debating whether this is enough reason to forgive me for lying.
“You haven’t made trusting you very easy, you know,” he says, meeting my gaze.
“I know. I’m sorry for lying about who I am. And for publishing the article without telling you about it first. But I did it for a reason, and I promise, aside from my name, everything else about me is true. I just want to help.”
His jaw clenches. “Why did you lie?”
Colson simply answers his question with, “She was framed.” I turn my head toward him, smiling softly. It surprises me that he’s trusting me so easily after everything, but I appreciate it.
Dom hums. “What is your real name?”
I tense, glancing between him and Colson. I know I told Colson I wouldn’t tell him, but at this point, I don’t really have anything left to lose.
After a beat, I blurt, “Hollis Rothwell.”
Dom’s tongue darts out over his lips, while Colson narrows his gaze on me.
“Hollis Rothwell…” Colson repeats, and I flinch hearing my given name from his lips. “Why does that sound so familiar?”
I turn to him, swallowing roughly. “My dad is Harrison Rothwell, Ontario’s Premier.”
A muttered, “Shit,” falls from Dom’s mouth as Colson’s face falls.
“Fuck, Red…” he says. My heart skips a beat at the nickname he hasn’t used since our first meeting.
I really shouldn’t be surprised that they put it together so quickly. My dad has always been well-known throughout the country for his ultra-conservative views, and with all the current press surrounding the Ontario election, it doesn’t shock me that they know who he is.
“That must’ve been a fun childhood,” Dom says, the sarcasm clear in his voice.
“Pretty much exactly as you’d expect from a man who hates women. I don’t know how my mother puts up with it. But they’re a big reason why I left.” I shake my head, rolling my lips together. “I know you’re probably going to look me up now, but I promise you, the articles online aren’t true. You can find my other work in the Investigative Journalism Foundation’s archives and see that I’m serious about what I do. I would never go against my morals or do anything the articles claim.”
The men share a glance. Dom’s jaw flexes, then he says, “We’ll take your word for it.”
My shoulders drop in relief. “I really am sorry for not telling you from the beginning.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m still not happy about the article, but I get why you did that too. Let’s just focus on catching this bastard before someone ends up dead.”
