Page 34 of Ink and Ashes
About thirty years ago, the main house on the property caught fire in the middle of the night. The ranch is a hundred-acre property, with no neighbours around for kilometres, so it took a while for anyone to call it in. By the time the fire department made the twenty-minute drive out, both parents, Susan and Henry, and two of their three young kids—Lisa, age twelve, and Tommy, age ten—had burned alive. Given that it was well before the time when fire alarms were required in homes in the province and they’d all been fast asleep, we had to assume they went quickly and painlessly, at least.
My dad was a lieutenant at the time, my grandfather the chief. I know from their retellings of that night that it’s the worst fire either of them have ever fought. This area had never seen anything quite like it, and there hasn’t been anything like it since. Aside from the fire that resulted in the incorporation of the town, the Welland fire is one of the most horrific in Ember Grove’s history.
The only surviving child, Joseph—known to everyone as Joey—was fifteen at the time and had been spending the nightat a friend’s. Neither Susan nor Henry had any extended family remaining, so he ended up being put into foster care. My dad told me he did his best to keep track of Joey for as long as possible, but eventually, he was lost to the system and vanished for a decade.
The next trace of him online after that is a death certificate, cause of death unknown. My dad assumed it was either drugs or suicide, and neither would surprise me. I can’t imagine the things that poor kid faced. He lost his entire family, was ripped from his home and the town he grew up in, and sent to live with God knows who, God knows where.
Regardless of the cause, at least he’s not suffering anymore.
After that night, the bank took ownership and started to rebuild the house. But after multiple delays in permits, the build was put on hold. It never did get finished, and though it’s been listed as-is multiple times over the past three decades, no one’s ever bought it, probably due to the sordid history the property holds. The house, the barn, and the entire hundred-acres have sat empty and abandoned ever since.
Which means the fact that we’re responding to a fire on the property is alarming.
We make it to the scene in no time. The moment we cross the property line, my eyes train on the smoke billowing from behind the main house, just before the tree line. Even in the dark, it’s obvious, thanks to the glowing orange from the flames below.
As we approach, I realize it’s the barn, and the entire structure is engulfed in fire. Given the location of the property and how run-down this old, wooden barn is, it shouldn’t be a surprise. The area is dry and surrounded by hay—a perfect accelerant for a fire. Simply put, it’s honestly more shocking that it hasn’t caught fire before now. One lightning strike would do the trick, and if I were a betting man, I’d assume that’s what happened here tonight.
But I’m not a betting man, and something about the scene feels off to me.
Chief Whitlock starts calling out orders, and we get to work. It takes a while to get the fire out, and once we finally do, we take a quick look around to see if we canfind anything.
We don’t. At least nothing that can be spotted beneath the dark sky.
Thankfully, the structure wasn’t quite close enough to the tree line that the fire spread into the forest. But in an area as dry and secluded as this, it would’ve been easy enough for a stray ember to spark a spot fire, so we also do a quick walk through the area to make sure that didn’t happen.
When we turn up empty, we conclude that the fire is out. We’ll report our findings to Fire Investigation, and they’ll send someone out to take a look at the scene.
With our mop-up done, we all pile into the trucks and make our way back to the station. Ten minutes into the twenty-minute drive, I shift my headset and turn to Dom, covering the microphone so only he can hear me.
He had called me this morning asking for the day off to do more investigating with Holland. I reluctantly agreed, because even though we knew there was the possibility of receiving a call, I also wanted to know what they might find, and he promised to come in if we did get one. On the phone, I’d asked how things went last night with her, and he’d brushed it off, claiming he wasn’t sure what to make of it yet but would let me know when he did. So I let it go.
But now, I need to know.
“What did Holland have to say last night?”
His brows furrow as if he’d completely forgotten about his conversation with her yesterday. Then his eyes widen.
“You need to talk to her. She should be the one to fill you in.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think this fire was an accident.” His throat works as he swallows. “And if anyone is able to figure out why, it’s gonna be her.”
My brows furrow, but I don’t question him further. And despite the fact that it’s after four o’clock in the morning by the time we get back to the station, I do the thing I’ve been debating doing for weeks.
I pick up the phone and call Holland.
CHAPTER 13
Holland
The last thing I expected to wake up to this morning was a phone call from Colson. In fact, it’s so far down on the list of things I expected that, when I hear his raspy voice on the other end of the line, I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.
I’m not.
“Why are you calling me at four-thirty in the morning?” I ask after glancing at the time on my phone. “How did you even get my number?”
“Dom,” is the response that comes through the phone.
