Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Well, when he put it that way…
“I just don’t want to complicate things even more,” I told him as worry flickered in my eyes. “We’ve got enough on our plate.”
Before Paolo could reply, the power suddenly came back on, flooding the office with bright light that made us squint and grimace.
“We should get cleaned up,” he suggested as our conversation derailed.
Oh, well. Another time. It wasn’t like I had any good suggestions or plans on what to do going forward anyway.
I nodded in response, feeling a brief moment of cold emptiness once he pulled away from me. Eventually, this case would be finished, and my time back in my hometown would come to an end. Could I really handle that empty feeling and cut ties with the men who made this place actually feel somewhat close to home again?
Chapter 16
Zoe
After cleaning up and blowing out all the candles, Paolo and I retreated back to the dayroom where my things still were. It sounded like the rain was starting to let up, and there were no more cracks of lightning and rumbling thunder to be heard. Time certainly flew once we got cozy in his office.
“I should probably head out soon,” I said as I checked my phone, seeing a few notifications on my home screen. An email from work. A text message attachment from Matty that had to be some sort of meme or funny photo. And a photo memory.
I tapped on the photo memory and felt my heart lurch at the sight of a photo of me and my mom in our old kitchen. We were posing with bright smiles in front of a sheet of freshly baked peanut butter cookies, and maybe it was just the sun in the background, but it looked like we were surrounded by a warm, golden aura.
A picture-perfect moment.
“Are you okay?” Paolo asked.
I blinked my eyes, not even realizing they were watering until then. I cleared my throat and showed him the photo.
“Me and my mom. It was years ago, but I actually remember that day really well,” I explained, fighting past the grief weighing on my heart. “Ironically, she taught me about fire safety that day. You know, don’t throw water on a grease fire. Baking soda, not baking powder.”
Paolo smiled and placed his hand on my back, rubbing gently as I continued staring at the photo.
“You look a lot like her,” he commented.
He was right. Her eyes were mine. Her hair was mine. So much of her spirit passed down to me. What I did get from my dad was the ability to shut down but to also love hard. He was never the same after she passed, but I guessed the same went for me.
We never saw my mom’s death coming. Everyone said that, but my mom was cautious and always prepared. Nothing caught her off guard, and on family TV nights, we always joked that my mom could win any survival show based on sheer determination and preparation.
That type of person wouldn’t be sloppy and lose the proof she found about the arson cases. She would’ve been prepared for something to go wrong and stashed the information somewhere safe. Somewhere only she and maybe those who knew her best would think to look.
“Zoe?”
My wide eyes shot up to his.
“My mom was investigating the arson cases that happened in the past before she died,” I told him. “She had proof, which means it’s hidden away somewhere. If I can find it, maybe I can figure out who is behind this entire arson disaster.”
Shock filled his face.
“You really think she found out who’s behind this?” he questioned me.
“She had to have come close,” I replied as I started gathering my things. “But I won’t know until I find her research.”
“Where would you even look?”
There was only one other person who knew my mom more than I did.
“I… I have to go home,” I murmured, the strength of my voice faltering as my eyes dropped.
I had to go back to my childhood home where me and my dad drowned in our grief for years until the place was unrecognizable. It didn’t feel like home. It was just a structure full of painful memories.
Paolo gently grabbed my hand to prevent me from rushing off.
“Are you okay? You got this?” he asked as concern filled his eyes.
I peered up at him, realizing that he didn’t just care about the case. He seemed to care about me too. Just having that support encouraged me to take a deep breath and focus, the side of my mouth turning up in a small but determined smile.
“I got this,” I assured him. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
Paolo mirrored my smile and drew his hand away, letting me walk off.
The smell of rain and asphalt filled my nose the moment I stepped out of the fire station, small puddles of water rippling beneath my boots as I crossed the parking lot. Nervousness still lingered in my chest like a trapped cough, but if I wanted a chance at figuring out where my mom’s research was, I had to ask my dad.