Chapter 37. Holly #2
“Nobody has ever written about the fire at the Carmichael estate, and I have a connection to the town, so I thought it would be good material for a book.”
Ethan pulled away, sitting back in his chair. He started to say something but stopped. “I remember that fire. Almost everyone in town knows about it.”
He paused—maybe just a beat too long. “From what I remember, they said it was probably a gas leak. Is there really a story there?”
“Could be. That’s actually one of the places where I’ve hit a wall.
I got to look at the evidence box at the police station, and the report from the gas company might be counterfeit.
And that’s not all. The inventory sheet listed a prescription bottle recovered from the scene, but it wasn’t with the other evidence.
And good luck getting answers from the local yokel cops. ”
Ethan sank into thought, his brow furrowed.
“Can’t help with that pill bottle, but around here all gas service is from East Coast Gas and Propane.
I happen to know a guy pretty high up in the company.
I’m not sure how far back their records go, but if there’s something to find, he’ll get it for me.
I helped rebuild his house after that nor’easter back in March of ’18.
He’s still grateful I didn’t jack up my prices like other contractors were doing, and we’ve become good friends. ”
And there was that pesky little voice again. Just like you and Conrad are good friends? Interesting that your family benefited from their fancy fundraisers. Why didn’t you mention that when we spoke about the Carmichaels?
Holly kept those thoughts to herself. She could use his help getting the missing gas report, which would likely benefit her more than slinging accusations.
Ethan finished his water and got up to go.
“It’s getting late. I should head home.” He paused.
Holly tensed. She knew that delay—the way his gaze drifted to his feet, a sudden shift of his weight from one foot to the other—like a man in the midst of personal conflict. Was he feeling guilty about something?
The answer surprised her.
“Holly—I know this is unprofessional, but I really like you. I enjoy your company. I was wondering … um, if you’d like to have more than ice water with me?”
Despite her doubts, Holly smiled. “Like that promised lemonade?” she said.
Ethan smiled back with newfound confidence. “I was thinking more like dinner. Maybe tomorrow?”
Holly spoke without thinking. “I’d love that,” she answered, and meant it.
Ethan cleared his throat. His mission was over. Now he had to depart, as gracefully as possible. “I’ll be back in the morning to do the shingles on the outside,” he said.
There was awkward silence as they both stood close, acting as unsure as middle schoolers. Ethan made the first move, leaning toward her. He gave Holly a quick hug. Somehow he got it just right—not too friendly, but not too distant—almost perfect. And she liked how he smelled—woody, masculine.
Could it be that the headaches she experienced around him, her worries about Ethan’s link to Conrad and to the mangled book she received, and her concern about his reputation around town as a womanizer were all just a cover-up for her deeper emotional barriers?
Ethan said goodbye, then loaded his tools into his truck. Holly noticed he’d left his phone on the table. She picked it up, intending to bring it to him, when it buzzed in her hand.
She glanced down to see a text message pop up on his lock screen from a woman named Colleen. The message was short and sweet.
See you tonight! Pick me up at six? Followed by two heart emojis.
Ethan came back inside, realizing his oversight. He smiled appreciatively as Holly handed him his phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow—already looking forward to our dinner,” he said, beaming.
Holly returned a strained smile. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
Gail had warned her. Why hadn’t she listened?
Holly trudged upstairs, still in a daze. She needed to lie down. The headache struck as soon as she saw the text message and those telling heart emojis. Now her skull felt like it was cracking. So did her heart.
She told herself that Ethan did her a favor, or maybe the gods had, or maybe it was Anna’s spirit.
Whatever the source, it was freeing, and it was better for her to know now rather than later.
She didn’t need the distraction, especially not from a smooth-talking two-timer.
She’d use his skills with tools and his connections to the gas company and send him on his way.
But her writing needed to stay on course; the time had come.
She had to take the book seriously. And it had to be this book—the story of her sister.
It was perfect. She’d come full circle. She was ready to stare down the dragon: do the research, get the facts, knock on doors, knock down walls if she had to.
The disappointment over Ethan was just the kick in the ass she needed to take her work seriously.
Holly reached for the box beside her bed.
She picked it up as if it weighed nothing.
It took her a moment to realize why. She opened the lid, peering disbelievingly into the cavernous space within.
She had moved on from the laptop where she had stored the book long ago.
There were no backups. There was one—and only one—copy of Beach Thriller, and it was gone.