Page 63 of Fear of Flames
Ali laughed.
The boot prints seemed to be taking them in a circle, until they veered away from the house. Kenzi brought out her phone. They’d walked what seemed like a mile. Although the charred bones of the house were no longer visible, the stench was imprinted in their noses. “I see something,” she said, lifting her phone. “In Iron Falls, we heard that there was a shed on the Holdcraft property, spared by the fire. What was he keeping out there? We’re getting close.”
There was yellow tape over a broken window above the door and a yellow taped X over the door.
“Looks like we found the shed, Kenzi.”
Both of their faces were on camera. “We came a long way,” Kenzi said. “Do you think we should take a peek inside?”
“Let’s do it.”
They rotated the camera and pushed on the heavy door. “It looks like someone broke in. See the splintered doorjamb?” Kenzi made sure to record the damage.
The door creaked further open.
Nothing.
“It’s empty.” The ladies stepped inside. The soles of their boots echoed within. The space was vastly larger inside than it appeared from the outside. The concrete floor was spotless as if someone scrubbed it. “Someone took a lot of time to clean this place out,” Ali said and began walking along the walls. “How could someone have technology out here? How do they get electricity?”
Kenzi recorded as Ali went to a plug and removed a charger from her purse. “Let’s see if it works.” She plugged the charger into the wall and then her phone into the charger—nothing. “No electricity.”
“Or,” Kenzi said, “whoever cleaned this place out disconnected the electricity. Why have plugs if there’s no electricity.” Her eyes opened wide. “I’ve heard the commercials for generators. Do they make them powerful enough to run whatever Mr. Holdcraft had here?”
Again, both of their faces were on the screen. “We’ll find out.”
Kenzi’s eyes opened wide. “Do we both agree that the sheriff is hiding something?”
Ali nodded. “First, he insinuated Michelle killed her father, and then he insinuated suicide. What if whatever was in this shed got him killed?”
Ali and Kenzi boarded their nearly three-hour flight in Boston bound for Indianapolis at 5:16 p.m. Seated in the third row, they exchanged phones and watched each other’s videos.
“I’m really curious what was in that shed and who cleaned it out.”
Kenzi agreed. “Especially after Sheriff Perkins went ice cold when we mentioned it.”
“Do you think we could call Deputy McBride for follow-up?”
“When we land, we’ll check into our hotel. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Hopefully, the Indianapolis police will be more forthcoming with answers to our questions.”
Chapter
Thirty
Friday afternoon, after a shopping trip where Fletch bought more food than he ever had, he settled into his home office and took a seat behind one of the desks. His setup was similar to what Denny had. With VPNs and browser extensions, Fletch had the ability to move about the web without leaving cookies or a digital footprint.
Peterson asked him a few questions earlier that had his mind racing. Denny’s loss was felt by all, a fallen soldier in one of their many wars. Members of the agency were currently in Nova Scotia. Things were looking positive in the Wells boy’s case. Denny’s service was one of the reasons Arrow hadn’t been reprimanded for bringing Chell to the complex and the agency.
He entered Chell’s name, Michelle Ellen Holdcraft, into a special search engine. Crime Daily Podcast was the first site to come up. An article in News Bulletin confirmed she was the person behind the pseudonym D. Valentine.
Fletch debated sharing that with Chell. He knew she wouldn’t be happy.
The Indianapolis Star was next with a story about the house explosion. Those were mostly expected. What wasn’t expected was the NewsBreak announcement of an upcoming press conference broadcasting from the Birch Bayh Federal Building in Indianapolis, Indiana, tonight at five thirty.
Fletch checked the time. It was nearly three thirty, which meant it was five thirty in Indiana.
“Chell,” he called.
Michelle appeared in the doorway, her sapphire eyes wide. “Is something wrong?”
