Page 48 of Ink and Ashes
I slide the bag across the table so he can take a closer look. “It’s the tab of a candle wick. I don’t know if it’s actually anything, but it seems odd to me that there would be candles in a barn.”
Dom nods. “It is, though people do all sorts of weird things. Might’ve just been stored there. There’s a good chance it’s been in there since the Wellands were still around.”
“Colson said the same thing.”
Dom rolls his lips together. “Did you only find one?”
I nod.
He hums. “I don’t know why there would only be one if it was being stored there, but it also seems odd that the arsonist would use a candle as their form of ignition, especially knowing it would leave behind evidence.” Dom holds the bag up, looking closer at the tab inside.
I ponder that for a moment before I say, “What if they did itbecauseit would leave behind evidence?”
“What do you mean?”
I point at the bag. “They knew we would find this, and they also probably knew we would conclude that it wasn’t actually what caused the fire—that it just happened to be in the barn. They knew that using a candle would leave evidence, but also that it doesn’t necessarily point to anything or anyone. They did it to fuck with us.”
“You might be onto something.” Dom’s eyes narrow in the direction of the bag. “But there’s no way to know for sure.”
“That’s exactly the point.” I pick up the Ziploc bag. “There’s no way to prove that this was the cause of the fire, but there’s no way to prove it wasn’t either. If I continue this investigation on the assumption that the barn fire was caused by a candle, it may help narrow things down. If I don’t, though, we’re back to square one.”
Dom is silent for a moment, running a hand through his hair. Then he says, “I think it’s worth it to try every angle, so go for it. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up unless we can find evidence of candles at some of the other scenes.”
I hadn’t even considered that. But now that I think about it, it’s possible the arsonist has been using candles or some other form of ignition that burns away in the flames this whole time. And if that’s the case, the chances of us findingsomethingat one of the other scenes, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem, is high.
“I won’t. But speaking of, can we check out some more scenes tomorrow?”
He nods. We make a plan to meet up the next morning, then I say goodbye and head out to my car.
It’s nearingnine o’clock in the morning by the time Dom and I make it to the scene of the sixth fire—the one they were fighting when I arrived in town. We left this morning just before six in an effort to beat the heat, but even with all the smoke in the air, the sun beats down on us, making the hike even more exhausting.
I take a deep breath as Dom slows his pace, giving me a chance to catch up. I had to invest in a pair of good hiking boots after the first scene I visited on my own, but even they aren’t helping with the ache in my feet from the rough terrain beneath me.
“You good?” Dom asks, passing me a bottle of water.
I undo the cap and take a sip, nodding. “I do Pilates. Hiking like this just isn’t what I’m used to,” I admit, and Dom huffs a laugh.
“I can tell. But for what it’s worth, you’re doing well.”
I shake my head with a smile, wondering if my face is as red as it feels.
“The fire started just over that ridge,” Dom says, pointing north.
I jerk my head, then pull myself into gear and continue walking.
We make it over the ridge in no time. Dom leads me toward the point of ignition they identified, and we spend some time searching the area for anything unusual.
This fire was put out at 7.4 hectares, which means there’s a lot of area for us to cover. Considering we’re looking for something as small as a candle wick tab, I don’t have much hope. We have yet to find one at the scene of any other fire, and until we do, there’s no way to confirm that candles are the arsonist’s choice of ignition.
Like with the other fires that have spanned over a hectare, Dom wasn’t able to find any evidence of a holdover fire, and neither was Fire Investigation. They ended up labelling this one as unknown, which has become the norm for fires in this area lately. But instead of looking deeper into them, they’re brushing them under the rug, leaving us to do the dirty work ourselves.
We search for hours, our heavy breathing and the rustle of debris on the forest floor the only sounds as we dig through it. A few times, one of us calls out, thinking we’ve found something, only to be met with nothing. With each false alarm, my frustration and sense of defeat grow.
“Rhodes, over here,” Dom calls then, and I let out a groan. I’m sure this one will be nothing too, but I make my way over anyway.
Dom is kneeled on the ground, digging through some dirt before he picks something up. His brows are furrowed as he holds it close to his face, blowing some of the dust off. I stand above him, unable to make out what it is until he moves to his feet and spins around, holding it out to me.
“Is this what I think it is?” he asks, and I stare down at the little silver metal circle.
