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)
“I had a word with the fire chief,” Jim said. “Definitely arson. You could smell the accelerant.”
And Avery was in jail. My jail.
I got back in the car, made the short drive into town, and parked in front of the station, my mind slowly turning over everything I knew. The thing was, when I’d arrested Ford for killing Prentice, I’d been seventy-five percent sure he hadn’t done it. After I’d talked to him, I’d been ninety percent sure he hadn’t done it.
But with people, you never knew. I’d learned in doing this job that you could think you understood everything about a human, but there were always hidden layers. Everyone had secrets. I hadn’t had a choice with Ford. The evidence had been too good. My gut wasn’t any help when we had the murder weapon in his closet, witnesses who saw him fleeing the scene, and his footprints outside his father’s window.
With Avery, I had a caller describing her at the scene and the gas cans by her car. But if what Jim and the fire crew had told me was true, she’d been trapped in the building. My heart stuttered at the thought of what would have happened if she hadn’t found that stool and broken through the door. I couldn’t function if I let the picture develop in my mind. Avery, on the floor, passed out as flames raced closer, the air gone.
Stop thinking about it.
Right now, I had to focus on being a cop. I had an arson to deal with—that I knew with one hundred percent certainty. I’d smelled the gas myself through the acrid black smoke. But was Avery my arsonist? My heart and my gut said no fucking way. But there were those gas cans. And the witness who described her at the scene.
I walked through the front doors, nodding at Amanda at the front desk. She called out, “Chief,” but I waved her off. I unlocked and pushed through the multiple sets of doors between the reception area and the cells.
Avery sat on the bench in the first cell, her arms braced on her knees, head down. At the sound of the door opening, she looked up. Soot and sweat streaked her face, her eyes bloodshot and swollen.
“West! West, I swear I didn’t—”
I held up a hand, but she kept going.
“I know they said they found gas cans, that someone saw me, but I—”
“I know,” I said, cutting her off.
She fell silent, staring up at me from across the cell. I didn’t say anything else. I knew, down to the core of my soul, that Avery Sawyer had not set that fire. It didn’t matter that all the evidence said she did it.
This was where I was supposed to turn around and walk away. Let her have her phone call, probably to Harvey, or Cole Haywood, since this was a criminal offence. My job was to get the wheels of justice turning and leave this to the system I believed in. That was my job. I was West Garfield. I always did my job. No bending the rules. No exceptions.
But looking at Avery—her sweat-stained face and tangled hair, the smell of smoke poisoning the air around her—all I could feel was grateful that she was alive. Fire moved fast, and she’d been trapped. I forced the thought from my mind. If I thought about what could have happened…
I needed a clear head. I had to follow the evidence, but this time the evidence was pointing at the wrong person. And this time, I couldn’t let the wheels of justice do their job. Not if it meant keeping Avery locked in a cell.
“Do you need anything?” I asked. “Water, coffee, food?”
Her eyes slid away as she realized I wasn’t going to let her out. She shook her head, then said, her voice scratchy and low, “Water. Can I have some water?”
I nodded and turned for the door. I grabbed a few waters and a granola bar from my office, brought them back, and handed them to her through the bars.
“Do I get a phone call?” she asked, hesitant, trying, I guessed, to read my mood.
I couldn’t give her anything.
“Not yet,” I said. “Drink that water. Eat the granola bar. I’ll be back.”
I turned to leave. From behind me, I heard her call, “West!” but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
I left the station as abruptly as I’d entered, ignoring Amanda at the front desk yet again. Jim caught up to me as I strode into the parking lot.
“Chief, I’m sorry. I had to. We got that call, and the cans were right by her car. But, Avery? I wouldn’t have thought— Maybe I shouldn’t have—”
I shook my head. “You did exactly what you’re supposed to.”
“She had her phone call?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Not yet.”