Page 58 of Ink and Ashes
My eyes begin to water from that question alone. “The fire to my car…” I shake my head, trying to grasp my thoughts as I stare down at the file. “Jimmy said it was intentional. Or at least the tampering of the fuel line was. I can’t drive my car until it can be fixed. Would you mind coming to pick me up?”
“Shit.” Cassidy doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Thanks,” I say before hanging up. I take a seat on the curb of the sidewalk in front of the garage, unable to tear my eyes away from the folder.
Then I wait.
CHAPTER 22
Colson
I’m finishing up paperwork from the situation with Holland earlier when the klaxons sound again. I brace, prepared to head out to a fire, when the voice on the loudspeaker calls out for the ambulance instead.
Before the call alert even finishes, my phone rings, Cass’s name popping up on the screen.
“Hey.” I can hear the ambulance sirens in the background. They were still out at the party, so the call would’ve come through their radios. “Everything okay?”
She doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Col, Sam and I got a call, but I just got off the phone with Holland and she needs someone to go pick her up. She can’t drive her car until Jimmy fixes the tampering, and?—”
My brows pull together as I stand from my chair. “Wait, what?”
“Oh, crap. Um, yeah, Jimmy said the fuel line was tampered with. I didn’t get many details, but I have to go, so can you…?”
Fuck.
Without a second thought, I grab my keys from the desk and head out to my truck. “Yes, go. I’ll get her.”
“Thanks, Col,” Cass says before hanging up, leaving me to process that information alone.
Holland’s car was tampered with. Whether the fire was intentional is still to be determined, but she definitely has a target on her back.
On my way to Jimmy’s Garage, I call Beau to let him know what’s going on. After we responded to Holland’s call earlier, I’d come back to the station to write up the report, while most of the crew stayed out for the holiday. I told him I’d be back as soon as possible, but given the situation, I doubt I will be.
He hangs up the call with a quick, “Go get ‘em, Tiger,” and I huff a laugh. Beau’s ability to make a joke out of a serious situation is unparalleled, but sometimes that hint of humour is exactly what’s needed to ease my anxieties.
Still, I break every speed limit on the drive to Jimmy’s Garage, my mind racing with so many questions. Normally it takes twenty minutes to get here from the station in a fire truck. I make it in fifteen.
Pulling into the parking lot, I instantly spot Holland sitting on the curb with her knees to her chest. I shove my truck into park and stare at her for a moment, trying to wrap my head around the chaos of this woman.
She’s distracted, staring down at the folder in her hand, and she hasn’t noticed me yet. It isn’t until I exit the vehicle and slam the door shut that her attention shifts to me.
Her brows pull together. “What are you doing here?” she asks. To anyone else on the street, they’d assume she was angry, with her furrowed brows and firm tone. But I see through that anger; beneath that mask, she’s terrified.
She should be.
I approach her slowly. “Cassidy got a call, so she asked me to come get you instead.”
Even if she hadn’t asked, the moment I found out it was tampered with, I would’ve been here. But Holland doesn’t needto know that.
“And you said yes?” she asks in disbelief.
I swallow roughly, nodding. “Cass told me what happened. Jimmy said someone tampered with the fuel line?”
She hands me the folder she’s holding, and I open it to find a full report of what happened with photo evidence. There are multiple pictures of proof that the fuel line was cut and clear markings of where the fire started.
Looking at it, the one thing I’ve been trying to avoid thinking pops into my mind.
Does this mean she’s actually right?
