LITMIR.BIZ

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pulse quickened at the sight of spray-paint cans lining the shelves just inches above the reach of the flames. That wasn’t good. In another minute those cans would start to explode. Pushing the door open, he stood back and motioned the other guys through, pointing to the burning car.

      Jim and Derek moved closer and opened the nozzle on the flames.

      When the fire was mostly contained, he said, “Bulk of the fire is knocked down. Let’s create a cross draft of air flow. I don’t want any airtight areas and we need to get this thick smoke out of here to secure the remaining area.”

      “All clear,” Derek reported.

      “Windows are all broken out,” Mark said.

      “Heavy smoke only, no more flames.” Ethan gave the final all clear and a collective sigh of relief could be heard over the radios. Jim shut off the water access and disengaged the hose.

      Great, now for the hard part, Ethan thought as he scanned the charred walls and ceiling above the bays. The sound of Bailey’s motorcycle approaching made him sigh. He’d hoped to do this without her watching.

      * * *

      FRANTICALLY, BAILEY CUT the engine on the bike and pulled off her helmet.

      “What happened?” she asked, approaching Ethan, who was exiting through the broken glass in the front door.

      The sound of crunching glass under his boots made her cringe, and she stared blankly at the burned shop with its broken windows and melted bay doors.

      “I was just here a couple of hours ago.” She’d stopped by the shop on her way home from the fire hall and noticed that Nick had left the back door wide open. Nick... She’d bet almost anything that he had something to do with this. Why had she agreed to let him work in the shop for the summer? Anger mixed with her shock and confusion.

      Ethan met her gaze, but hesitated.

      “What are you not telling me?”

      “The fire was started by a short circuit of that Volkswagen Jetta’s battery cable.”

      The disabled car on the highway. Her knees weakened and she placed a hand to her stomach as a wave of nausea made her dizzy. She’d brought the car in...disregarding Ethan’s advice not to. This wasn’t Nick’s fault; it was hers.

      “You okay? Here, sit.” Taking her arm, Ethan guided her to the back of the fire truck and gently forced her to sit. “Take a deep breath.” His voice sounded far away.

      “We’re about to start the overhaul.” Jim’s voice came over Ethan’s shoulder radio and Bailey saw him flinch before giving the go-ahead.

      She forced herself to sit straighter. “Overhaul? What does that mean?” Her mouth was dry, but her skin was damp with sweat as she fought another wave of nausea.

      Ethan cleared his throat, and despite the August heat, he retrieved a blanket and draped it over her shoulders. “He means the teardown—we need to make sure there isn’t any hidden fire in the walls or ceiling.”

      The loud crashing noises behind her made her jump, and discarding the blanket, she stood and moved closer to the garage. Ethan’s hand on her arm prevented her from going too close.

      “No farther,” he said.

      The front wall of the shop collapsed in front of her and her hand flew to her mouth. “They are destroying the place.” She turned to Ethan. “Make them stop.” The damage from the fire was more than enough mess to clean up.... If they kept tearing down the main structures, the entire garage would need to be rebuilt from the ground up.

      “I can’t, Bailey. This is protocol. It’s a safety—”

      “You know what? I’m sick to death of your safety measures. This is my shop, Ethan, it’s my life, my livelihood—they can’t just tear it down.” Enraged, she blinked away the tears that stung her eyes.

      “There could be more fire somewhere in there. We can’t take the chance. I’m sorry.” His voice was calm but she heard a note of anguish.

      Desperate to argue but knowing it was no use, she watched the back ceiling give way, falling to the floor of the shop in a heap of rubble. Her shoulders slumped as she lowered herself down to the gravel parking lot, tucking her knees under her. “So that’s it. They’re just going to continue pulling down the entire building?” she said, more to herself than to him.

      Ethan knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her bare shoulders. “We won’t leave until we’re certain that we’ve put water on anything glowing.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      “SO WHEN YOU left last night at midnight, everything looked fine?”

      The insurance adjuster from Newark, who’d introduced himself only as Phillips, had arrived early the next morning. The area around the garage had been roped off with caution tape to prevent anyone from going near the ruins of the building. The fire crew had instructed Bailey not to touch anything or attempt to clean up until the insurance adjuster had time to assess the full extent of the damage. She understood the reasoning, but driving away the night before from the shop that had been a major part of her life for ten years and was now lying in a heap of rubble had been difficult.

      “Yes. I noticed the back door ajar when I drove past, so I stopped to close and lock it.”

      “An employee left a door open?” Phillips raised an eyebrow as he glanced up from his paperwork.

      Bailey nodded, her jaw clenched. Nick.

      “You know that your insurance wouldn’t cover theft if the premises were left unsecured?”

      “Yes...but this is Brookhollow. No one would ever think of stealing anything. Heck, I’m sure if someone in town had noticed the door open, they would have just locked up themselves.” It was one of the things she loved most about her hometown—the neighborly comfort the residents enjoyed. Everyone looked out for one another.

      “Maybe, but you can never be too sure,” he said, stepping over the broken glass in the metal shell of the door frame to enter the shop. “Wow, quite a lot of damage.” He studied the scene, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook.

      Bailey found it difficult to look as she followed him inside, stepping over the large wooden ceiling beams that now lay on the ground.

      “Yes. The fire from the vehicle spread very quickly, so the firefighters were forced to tear everything down.” An image of the fire crew using their axes and hammers to bring down the walls and ceiling flashed in her mind and she cringed. She knew they had been doing their job, but they’d destroyed everything. All she had.

      The man nodded. “Happens often,” he said dismissively.

      Not to her. What he casually shrugged off as just another insurance claim was one of the most stressful and heartbreaking events in her life. Bailey had worked in the shop since she’d moved out on her own at seventeen, and it had become a familiar and comfortable place. She knew what she was doing inside the shop, something she couldn’t say for many other aspects of her life. Memories were buried within its walls and the building had stood in Brookhollow for over forty years. Noticing her calendar sticking out from under the charred desk, she bent to retrieve it. She dusted off the image of the St. Mark’s, the August picture on the calendar of Italy that Ethan had given her for Christmas to keep her motivated to save for her trip. Rolling the calendar, she tucked it into her back jeans pocket.

      Inspector Phillips continued to walk through the rubble, making several notes, until he stopped beside the charred Volkswagen Jetta. “This was the one that started the fire?”

      “Yes.” The one she never should have towed.

      “Fire report says it had caught on fire on the highway the day before, as well.”

      It wasn’t a question, so she remained silent. No doubt Ethan’s report was detailed.

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