Chapter 22 #2
When another siren joined the first, Nate stumbled from the bed and across the room to the window.
He pushed aside the curtain and looked down the street.
Shock held him in place for about two seconds before he scrambled to find the jeans he’d been wearing before bed.
As fast as he could, he jerked them on and then pushed his arms into the sleeves of his shirt.
Skipping socks altogether, he jammed his feet into his shoes and, after grabbing his phone, he headed for the door of the dingy motel room.
He sprinted down the sidewalk, did a quick check for traffic then bolted across the road toward where the fire engines were stopped, their lights still sweeping against the night sky. When a wall of heat slammed into him, Nate skidded to a stop.
Surely this was a bad dream.
It had to be.
"Sir, you need to move back!" The full-suited firefighter reinforced his statement by placing a gloved hand on Nate's chest and pressing.
Move back?
Red hot flames flickered and roared as they slowly, but determinedly, consumed half his livelihood. Nate took one step back to appease the man, but he refused to move any further away. The firefighter moved on to other people standing nearby.
When nothing remained between him and the blazing building, the heat once again hit Nate.
The hair on his arms stood on end and his skin felt singed—even blistered—by the fierce heat.
Flames continued to dance and burn, lighting up the summer night sky as the fire spread across the roof of the building.
Waves of heat battered his body as he stood, hands on his hips, watching the flames reach high into the dark sky. When the smell of burning rubber and oil assaulted his senses, Nate blinked rapidly to keep his eyes from watering. As much as the heat burnt his skin, his insides were chilled.
This was arson.
And he had a pretty good idea who was responsible. But right now he was trying to accept the reality that once the flames had wreaked their havoc, his auto repair shop would be nothing but a blackened, charred structure.
The crowd grew as people stumbled from their beds to see what the commotion was about, but Nate stood alone watching as firefighters worked to put out the flames.
"Are you the owner?"
Nate glanced away from the fire to see a tall man in firefighter gear standing next to him. He gave him a quick nod and looked back at the garage.
"Not going to be much left," the man said. "We're doing our best, but given the nature of the business and the products you kept on site, the fire spread rapidly."
The man was right, but Nate knew he ran a safe workplace.
He followed all safety requirements and protocols.
It was something he emphasized with the staff at both of his garages, the one here in Sanford and the one in Collingsworth.
The fire should never have gotten this out of control unless the sprinklers had been tampered with prior to it being started.
"Are you up for some questions?" the man asked.
When Nate nodded, the man gestured to a nearby fire truck. "Let's get back a little from the heat. It's not safe for you."
As reluctant as he was to leave his business, Nate needed to let someone know about his suspicions. The noise of the fire lessened a bit as they moved away, enough for him to hear his phone ring.
Frowning, Nate pulled it from his pocket where he'd shoved it on his way out the door earlier and stared at the display. Dean Marconett. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. A call from the sheriff at this time of night couldn't mean anything good.
Had something happened to Lily?
Please, God, don't let it be Lily.
"Hello?"
"Nate? You're okay?"
Nate rubbed his forehead. Okay might be a stretch. "Basically. What's up, Sheriff?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm in Sanford. Currently watching my business burn to the ground."
There was such a long pause Nate wondered if the call had been disconnected but then the sheriff said, "Well, we have a situation on our hands here in Collingsworth, too. Your house was set on fire earlier."
Nate was sure he hadn't heard the sheriff correctly. "My house?"
"I'm so sorry, Nate. It started about an hour ago and was fully engulfed by the time the fire engines got there. We thought you were inside." The sheriff let out an audible sigh. "I can't tell you how relieved I am that you're okay."
His house? The only home he’d ever known? The place that held most of his happiest memories? The pain that sliced through him threatened to take him to his knees. He had to push that aside to deal with later. Now was not the time.
He swallowed hard, willing away the emotion that wanted to flood him. "What about the garage?"
"Looks like there was an attempt to start a fire there, but it never really got going. Just one corner of it was really damaged. Kinda looks like the person setting it got spooked."
"So you believe it's arson?"
"Oh, without a doubt. All signs are pointing in that direction. And you said the business there in Sanford was hit as well?"
"Yes. I'm watching it burn right now. Doesn't look like there's going to be much left of it." Nate was surprised he was able to speak so normally. The chill that had invaded his body earlier was giving way to numbness as he absorbed the news the sheriff had given him
"I suppose you'll need to deal with things there tomorrow, but give me a call as soon as you're back in Collingsworth."
"I will." After he said goodbye, Nate lowered the phone to his side, clutching it tightly in his hand. How much more was he supposed to take? Three devastating hits to his life in three years. Lily. His dad. And now this. There wasn't much left that could be taken from him at this point.
Nate felt a touch on his arm.
"You okay, son?"
Nate glanced over. He'd forgotten about the man standing next to him. "Sorry. I just got news that my home in Collingsworth was also set on fire, and an attempt was made on my garage there."
"Really?" The large man looked toward the fire. "Guess we're going to find some proof of arson here, too, then. Three fires on one person's property seem a little too much to be accidental."
"You might want to call the sheriff there in Collingsworth. Dean Marconett. He was the one who called me and could give you details of what happened there as well."
"I'm sorry about this," the man said as he clapped Nate on the shoulder. "I've heard good things about your business. Word was you ran an honest, affordable place."
"I tried." Nate gazed again at the inferno in front of him. "Guess it doesn't matter much now."
"Do you have any idea who might have done this?"
"Nate!"
Hearing the shout, Nate swung around to see the man he'd hired to be manager of the Sanford garage jogging in his direction.
Marty Stevens came to a stop next to Nate, his gaze on the garage. "I couldn't believe it when Drake called to tell me what was going on."
Nate knew Marty's younger brother was part of the fire department in Sanford. No doubt he'd recognized the address when it had been called in. "I got a call from Collingsworth. They set my house on fire and made an attempt on my garage there, too."
Marty draped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a quick hug. "I'm so sorry, man. It's Chip, isn't it."
"Chip?" This time it was the man to Nate's right who spoke. "You think you know who did this?"
Before Nate could answer, Marty said, "Yes. We had to fire Chip Lassiter last week. He was not a happy camper."
"Why did you have to let him go?"
Again Marty spoke first. "He was doing shoddy work and then overcharging for his time.
We also suspected he was telling customers that parts needed to be replaced when they didn't. Figure he charged for the replacement part but put the old one back on and sold the new part so he could pocket the money. "
"Was this going on for a while?"
"Not long. Nate runs a tight ship, and we figured out pretty quickly that something was off. We have a reputation to uphold." Marty shrugged. "He was an ex-con, but Nate gave the guy a chance. Guess it just wasn't meant to be."
"You hire ex-cons?" This time the man directed his question to Nate.
Nate nodded. "I figure everyone deserves a second chance. It doesn't always work out, but we've never had something like this happen before."
"He must have had some help."
Marty grunted. "No doubt some of those dudes that kept coming around the shop when he was supposed to be working."
"Yeah, I would agree with that," Nate told the man. "But I don't know who they were."
Throughout the conversation, he'd kept his gaze pinned on the burning building. Slowly but surely the flames were dying out. The heat radiating off the building also began to ebb away. The charred rubble of the building represented more than just the loss of a business. This had been his dad’s dream, the last thing they had worked to build together.
In fact, it had been at this garage that Mike Proctor had the heart attack which eventually led to his death.
"I’m so sorry, Dad," Nate whispered as he looked up to the black night sky.
As the flames faded away, so did the crowd.
Soon it was just him, Marty, the firefighters and a handful of cops.
Nate let out a weary sigh as he envisioned what lay ahead of him in the coming days.
A small voice told him to dump it all, jump in his truck and leave everything behind.
The heartbreak, the pain, the ruins of his life.
Go start over somewhere else. Someplace the memories didn't follow him everywhere he went.
His phone rang, and when he lifted it to see the screen, he frowned. Crystal. He didn't want to talk to her right then. No doubt she was calling for the same reason the sheriff had.
Nate took a few steps away from Marty and the firefighter. "Hello?"
"Nate? Nate? Is that you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." He kicked at the ground as he stood with his head bent. "I wasn't at my house in Collingsworth."