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)
As I approached the front of the fire station, I could see the fire truck parked inside through the large, open entrance. At least I came at the right time and not when they were out on a call. I strode through the front, hearing thuds from behind the truck.
“Hello?” I called out, hoping that Matty was around. He was my connection, and if anyone was going to help me convince the fire chief to give me information and to let me stay close throughout the investigation, it would be him.
The thuds stopped, and a tall, dark-haired man with a matching beard stepped out from behind the fire truck. With his broad muscles and slightly grown out hair, he had a rugged look to him that made my stomach twist. Woah.
“Can I help you?” he asked as he wiped his hands off with a shop rag.
My eyes shifted to the tribal tattoo winding up his forearm, my words refusing to come out at first. In my defense, he caught me off guard.
“I’m Zoe Collins,” I said as I extended my hand out for a handshake. “I’m a journalist at The Blue Ridge Times.”
“Cohen,” he replied as he shook my hand, seeming a bit stiff once I introduced myself. “Blue Ridge? Like North Carolina?”
I smiled and nodded, the warmth of his grip lingering when our hands broke apart.
“That’s the one,” I told him, having to tilt my head back a little to meet his ocean blue eyes. There was just something about a man with pretty eyes.
Cohen crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at me in a suspicious manner.
“What’s a journalist from North Carolina doing here?” he questioned me.
Uh oh. I had heard that tone quite a few times before from people who were wary of journalists or reporters. They didn’t like being questioned or having anyone in their business, which I understood, but I was here for the good of the community. I wasn’t trying to dig out the skeletons in his closet.
And I wasn’t looking to drag mine out either.
“I’m here to write a story about the arson case. I’m hoping to work closely with you guys to uncover what’s really going on and make Rockview safe again,” I explained with a friendly expression, hoping to relax him. “Oh, and I’m from here.”
Cohen didn’t lighten up in the slightest. In fact, his eyes narrowed slightly as he fixed me with a stern look.
“We don’t really have time to accommodate a journalist,” he stated. “We’re in and out fighting these fires and getting people out of harm’s way.”
There it was. The resistance that I was so used to facing. He didn’t want me to get in the way and slow down their progress, but he would have the opposite problem. They would have to keep up with me because I was determined to get to the bottom of this.
“You don’t have to accommodate me. I want to work with you,” I replied. “If I’m going to properly investigate these fires and figure out who’s behind them, I need to be up close and personal. Where you guys are.”
Cohen’s jaw tensed, and I could tell that he wasn’t in the mood to argue. That was just too bad because I’d driven all the way here for this.
“I think the police are better suited to figuring this out than a journalist,” he commented, his tone starting to sharpen.
“How have they been doing so far?” I asked as I tilted my head at him.
Air puffed out of his nose sharply.
“They’re doing their best,” he said with some grit in his voice.
“I know they are, but this is a small town. We only have so many resources, and I’m here and ready to be a helpful resource,” I told him before gesturing behind me. “Do you think I like hearing about the houses of old friends burning down or my favorite ice cream shop being torched? I don’t.”
Cohen lifted a hand, trying to wind our conversation down to a close.
“Which I understand, but you can wait until after the fires are out to investigate like everyone else,” he replied as he started to turn away.
“Nothing has worked!” I told him, raising my voice to get his attention.
Cohen paused and turned back to me.
“Doesn’t mean they eventually won’t. Give it some time,” he replied.
I stepped closer to him with a look of pure defiance on my face.
“The longer we wait, the more will be destroyed,” I bit out. “Are you willing to risk that just because you don’t want to work with me?”
Cohen shook his head at me, looking as aggravated as he sounded.
“It’s not a good idea,” he said. “I’m sure my fire chief will agree with me.”
Now, we were talking. I hoped that he wasn’t the fire chief because it would take a miracle to gain his trust. Maybe the fire chief would be easier to sway.