Page 28 of Ink and Ashes
After a beat, I navigate to Google and type her name in the search bar.
I don’t know why I haven’t thought to look her up before now. Maybe because it feels invasive, but what she’s doing in this town is invasive too. So without thinking twice about it, I click search.
I prepare myself to be shocked, expecting to find something that tells me what it is she’s running from. Instead, I find nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
My brows pull together. According to this, Holland Rhodes doesn’t exist. I figured at the very least I’d find a Facebook account or something, but it’s almost as if Holland Rhodes was completely wiped from the internet. There’s no way to erase everything from the web, at least not without doing something illegal, and if that’s the case, there’s definitely more to the story.
Confused, I try adding the words “Toronto” and “journalist” after her name.
Still nothing.
Holland Rhodes is a ghost.
I take a screenshot of the search results on the page and print it. A few hours later when shift is over, rather than heading home like I normally would, I head in the direction of The Scarlet.
Dom may be willing to hear her out, but I’m not. I’ve had enough of the secrets. I’ve had enough ofher. And once he finds out she’s been lying all along, I’m sure he’ll change his tune too.
Of course, when I arrive, her car isn’t here. So I park, planning on waiting for her to return.
I should’ve trusted my gut from the beginning. This whole time, I’ve been telling myself that she’s running from something, and now I know it’s true.
Did she think that she could hide out here under the guise of trying to help us when we don’t need it, thinking no one would figure out she’s not who she says she is? Or maybe she’s some typeof con artist and this whole thing is an act of fraud for her. I don’t know what she’d be getting out of it, but if I wasn’t sure she was using this town to bury something before, I am now.
That’s when a thought hits me.
Maybesheis the one setting the fires.
My brows pull together, and I squash the suggestion as quickly as I thought it. If that were the case, she wouldn’t have mentioned the possibility of arson. No one here had any suspicions until she arrived, and if she was behind them, she wouldn’t have started drawing more attention to them.
She also didn’t show up until two months after the fires started, for fuck’s sake. There’s no way she’s responsible for them. But she’s definitely hiding something, and I refuse to let her take our town down with her.
After about twenty minutes of waiting, her car pulls into the small lot. She parks in the spot closest to the door, and before her vehicle even stops moving, I’m out of mine.
I walk up to her car, furious and determined, slamming the printed paper against her window. Her face flashes briefly with what looks to be fear, but she quickly masks it with anger.
I move back as she swings her car door open, her expression hard. Her eyes drop from my face back to the page, unamused.
“You Googled me?”
I ignore the question. “Care to explain why Holland Rhodes doesn’t exist?”
She rips the paper from my hands, crumpling it up. “Nope,” she says, popping thep. She storms past me in the direction of the inn, but I’m hot on her heels.
I run ahead, stopping her in her place. “What’s your fucking angle?”
Her brows pull together. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not an idiot. You may wear your mask well, but I can see through the façade.” I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “I don’t know what you’re running from, what you’re trying to prove, but just give it a fucking rest. This town was fine until you came along. Don’t take us down with you.”
She shakes her head. “I…” She pauses, clearing her throat. “I’m notrunningfrom anything. Running would imply someone is chasing me, and no one back home cares enough to do that.”
There’s sadness in her tone, which has me pulling my brows together.
“Who are you?”
She rolls her lips together but doesn’t say anything.
