Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
My brain couldn’t catch up with my body. My nervous system had tilted straight into abject terror. I had to get out, and I couldn’t believe how fast those flames were devouring the walls, already nibbling at the edges of the ceiling above. Was the whole thing going to fall on my head? It could, but I’d probably be dead from smoke inhalation first. Fuck.
My shoulder bumped into a metal stool, and I thought of the glass front door. I was probably shatterproof, but I’d seen enough movies to know there was some kind of backdraft thing with opening doors and a fire. But my other choice was to stay here, and that would definitely kill me. Metal stool and glass door it was.
Dragging the stool, I crawled as fast as I could to the door, trying to stay under the smoke. I only stood when I was there, struggling to drag in a breath through my shirt and coughing instead. I swung the stool, the hit glancing off. Spiderwebs crackled across the glass. I swung again, my lungs catching on the black, acrid smoke, the cough doubling me over. I didn’t have time to cough. The heat was unbearable, sweat pouring down my face and stinging my eyes.
I slammed the metal stool into the door again, the distant shriek of sirens hitting my ears. Thank fucking God. I held my breath until I saw stars, slamming the stool into the door again and again, the spiderweb of cracks spreading, deepening, bits of glass crumbling out. My vision was going grey, I gave one last desperate swing of the stool, and the glass shattered enough for me to dive through.
Sweet, fresh air teased my nose. I tried to drag in a breath and choked on it, rolling to my side, lungs heaving, desperate for oxygen. A shadow fell across my face, and I blinked up at a firefighter in uniform, his face grave. He looked across me at someone else. I turned my head to see Jim, one of West’s deputies, staring down at me.
“Thought you were smarter than this, Avery,” he said. “You need medical attention?”
I shook my head slowly, my lungs finally relaxed enough to pull in air. I lay flat on my back on the pavement, staring up at the blue sky and the clouds of smoke billowing from Wild Haven Brewing. Firefighters streamed into the building. More sirens wailed in the distance. I forced myself to focus on Jim, still leaning over me, a look of disgust on his face that I couldn’t process.
“On your feet,” he said.
I wobbled as I stood, not quite understanding what was happening. I was alive and breathing fresh air, while behind me, Wild Haven Brewing burned. It had happened so fast. I’d only been in the building for minutes. How had they gotten here so quickly? I hadn’t called, too focused on getting out before the smoke and flames took me.
I straightened, drawing in a breath, and my lungs caught. A second later, I doubled over, hands on my knees, hacking, tears streaming from my eyes. When I thought I could talk, I rasped out, “How did you get here so fast?”
I straightened, and a hand closed over my wrist. Jim. He grabbed my other wrist, slapped on cold, metal cuffs, and said, “Call came in ten minutes ago. A trespasser at Wild Haven Brewing. Someone saw a tall, dark-haired woman unloading gas cans from the back of her vehicle.” He looked over to my car and the three red gas cans sitting behind it on the pavement.
“Those aren’t mine,” I said, blinking stinging tears from my eyes.
“Sure,” Jim said. “But considering I got a report of arson and found you here with gas cans by your car, I’m going to arrest you, and we’ll let the judge sort it out.”
I froze, struggling to understand what was happening as he roughly grabbed my arm and led me to his cruiser. “I didn’t—I just got here. Bob texted me.” I was babbling, but I couldn’t get my head around what the deputy had said.
The call came in ten minutes ago? Had I even been here ten minutes ago? Maybe, but barely. How? There definitely hadn’t been a fire ten minutes ago unless—I felt like I was in a puzzle someone had tossed in the air, the pieces falling everywhere, and I couldn’t put them together to make a picture that made sense.
“I didn’t set a fire,” I said. “I just got here.”
“Save it.” Jim splayed his hand over the top of my head and pushed me into the back seat of his cruiser, closing the door with a thunk.
“Don’t I get a phone call?” I asked as soon as he got in the driver’s seat.
“Later,” was all he said.
I craned my neck to see another fire truck pulling into the parking lot. I hoped they could save Bob’s brewery. Whatever was going on here, I was pretty sure he was an innocent victim, just like me.