by Lolita Lane
“Go!” he shouted, giving her a warning look that could have melted the polar ice caps. “You’re just making shit up to try to break us up so you can sink your little claws into me! Well, I’m onto your little game! Leave me the fuck alone!”
She backed slowly away, unsure what to do. She fought back a levy of tears. No, she wouldn’t let him see her cry! She had to make him understand, but there was nothing she could say that hadn’t already been said.
She trudged up the hill toward her car with tears streaming down her face. It was hopeless. If she couldn’t get through to him… no, wait. It wasn’t hopeless. She could go to the police. Maybe they would believe her!
She drove straight to the county police station and strode purposefully to the front desk.
“I need to speak with Officer Bond immediately!” she said.
“What is this regarding?” the officer manning the desk asked.
“A potential arson case and possible murder attempt,” she said.
The officer raised an eyebrow and said, “Officer Bond is narcotics. I can direct you to…”
“No, I know Officer Bond,” she said. “I work with the Clarksville Post.”
The officer shrugged and picked up the phone, dialing some numbers. Then he said, “I have a woman here who says she needs to see you right away. She says she’s from the Clarksville Post.”
“It’s urgent!” Sarah said.
“She says it’s urgent,” the officer added. He looked up at her and asked, “Sarah?”
She nodded, and the officer said, “Yes, it’s her. Ok. He said he’ll come get you in a minute. Just have a seat.”
Sarah sighed and plopped into a nearby chair. She crossed her legs and arms and began to swing her leg impatiently. After what seemed like two lifetimes, Officer Bond opened the side door.
“Sarah! Good to see you!” he beamed. Then his face fell at the sight of her serious expression. “Come on back to my office.”
She followed him silently to his office and took a seat before being asked. She immediately said, “The fire at the bowling alley wasn’t an accident.”
“And how is it that you know this?” he asked, sliding into his own chair across the desk from her.
“Long story, but I overheard a conversation today,” she said. “I believe a man’s life is in danger, because the people who set the fire are going to try again.”
“How did you happen to overhear such a personal conversation?” he asked, his head tilted like a curious puppy. “And how do you know it was related to this particular incident?”
“I told you it’s a long story, but here goes,” she said. “I’ve known one of the firefighters who was hospitalized for about twenty years. While he was in the hospital, I saw his fiancée kissing another man in the cafeteria, and I took a picture. She was with that same man at Nicholson’s today, and I heard them talking about how they failed the first time, and she said it was all his fault because he botched things and that she would have her insurance money right now if he hadn’t, and he said they would try again as soon as he went back to work. So now I’m afraid Luke’s life in in danger and…”
“Whoa, slow down!” said Officer Bond. “Are you sure you heard them correctly? Maybe they were talking about something else entirely.”
“No, I’m certain I heard them correctly,” she said. “I tried to tell Luke about it, but he doesn’t believe it. I even showed him the picture I took of his fiancée kissing another man.”
“Yeah, denial is a beast,” said Officer Bond. “He doesn’t want to believe it. But eventually he will if it’s true.”
“I just hope he believes it before it’s too late,” she said.
“You mean before the wedding?”
“No! Before they try again to kill him!”
“Oh, right. Well, I can’t do much with no evidence, but I’ll talk with arson investigations to see what they come up with. I’ll call you if I hear anything.”
“I’ll see if I can come up with any evidence,” Sarah said. “Please do all you can. I’m really in fear for his life, and he… he’s a good friend. A good guy.”
“Understood,” said Officer Bond.
Chapter Thirteen
Unable to convince Officer Bond that the situation was serious, she approached her boss with her information, hoping at least to get clearance to use her press credentials to attempt to gain more information about the story.
She paused with her hand in the air, took a deep breath, and then rapped at the frosted glass window on his door.
“What?” his voice gruff called.
She opened the door and said, “Mr. Fuller, I think I have a potential story, and I need clearance.”
“Fine, come in,” he said. “Sit.”
She sat down and got right to the point, “I believe the fire at the bowling alley was arson, and I also believe I know the motive.”
“What in blue blazes gives you that idea?” demanded Mr. Fuller.
“I overheard a conversation between the fiancée of one of the firefighters who was injured in the fire and the man she’s cheating on him with,” Sarah answered. “They were talking about…”
“Wait, how do you know this guy’s fiancée is cheating on him?”
“I saw her, sir,” she answered, pulling out her phone. “I snapped this shot at the hospital cafeteria the other day. She was kissing another man while he was lying in a coma upstairs.”
Mr. Fuller grunted and said, “And what exactly did you overhear?”
“They were at Nicholson’s today,” Sarah said. “They were talking about the fire, and that it didn’t work, and that she would have gotten her insurance money if he hadn’t screwed it up. Then he told her they’d try again when he went back to work.”
“You’re certain you heard this right?”
“Sir, Donna was with me, and she heard the same conversation.”
“Alright, fine,” he said reluctantly. “You have clearance to use your press credentials to investigate the story, but it better not interfere with your other work at all, because as of right now you don’t have much to go on, and I don’t even really believe you heard this conversation right.”
“Thank you, sir!” she said, standing up to leave.
“Brewer!”
“Sir?”
“Do whatever you have to do break this story,” he said. “It’s huge! That is if you’re not a lunatic following nothing. Just do it in your downtime. And keep me updated!”
She nodded and made a hasty retreat.
Unfortunately there were several breaking stories that day, and Sarah spent hours making phone calls an interviewing people. She hadn’t had a moment to investigate the situation with Lacey and her lover, and it was weighing like an elephant squatting on her shoulders.
It was nearly lunchtime when a name came across her phone. It was Officer Bond. She answered quickly.
“Sarah? It’s Officer Bond. I spoke with arson, and they said they actually just got the report back that there was an accelerant found at the scene of the bowling alley fire. They’re waiting to find out exactly what the accelerant is. I’ll give you a call as soon as they get the report in.”
“Thanks,” she said. “This is progress.”
“Because there’s arson involved, it makes me rethink what you overheard,” he told her. “I can’t really do anything about it yet, but if you get me any kind of physical evidence, I’ll see that someone takes it seriously.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” she told him. “I’ll call you if I find anything.”
She fired off a quick email to Mr. Fuller to let him know he had made the right decision by allowing her to investigate.
Mr. Fuller,
* * *
Just wanted you to know that my contact at the police department informed me that an accelerant was found at the scene of the bowling alley fire. We’re on the right track.
* * *
Sarah
She went to Donna’s offic
e, eager to tell her in person. When she entered the room, she noticed Donna’s face was ashen and she held up her hand to keep Sarah quiet while she talked on the phone.
“I can’t believe this,” Donna said into the phone. “Thanks for letting me know. Bye.” Then she shot a frightened look at Sarah and said, “You’re never gonna believe this.”
“What?”
“You might want to sit down,” Donna said.
Sarah slowly lowered herself into a chair.
“They discovered an accelerant at the bowling alley,” Donna said.
Sarah released a held breath and said, “I know, Donna. My contact at the police department just told me.”
“But I have a contact at the lab,” she said. “And it’s not just any accelerant. It’s a specific type of acetone that’s mostly used by artists. They believe it’s a brand called Sullivan’s, but they stopped making it about a year ago, so it’s hard to find.”
“Wow! It’s amazing what they can figure out these days,” Sarah said. “So I guess my next step is to find out who still sells this stuff.”
“That’s what I’d do,” Donna agreed. “And maybe find out of Lacey or her boy toy happens to be an artist.”
“Thank you so much,” Sarah said. “I owe you big time!”
“Anytime, girl,” Donna said.
Sarah headed back to her office and began calling art supply stores, eager to find out if any sold Sullivan’s acetone. As she expanded her search further and further outside the city, she began to give up hope.
“Hudson’s Art & Hobby,” answered a young sounding female dully.
“Yes, I’m looking for a particular brand of acetone called Sullivan’s. Do you by any chance carry it?” Sarah asked.
“I think so,” the girl answered. “Let me check.”
She heard the phone rattling as it was set down. Moments later she picked up the phone and said, “We have two left in stock.”
“Really? Will you be there in an hour?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah, my shift doesn’t end until six.”
“Thank you!” Sarah said.
She grabbed her purse and coat and dashed out the door, but then she quickly raced back inside and went to Mr. Fuller’s office, knocking impatiently.
“What?” came the familiar gruff reply.
She opened the door and popped her head in, saying, “Field trip. Found the accelerant used in the fire. Super rare stuff.”
“Go,” he waved her off.
While driving down the interstate, she quickly dialed Luke’s number.
“What do you want now?” he demanded.
Ignoring his rude opening, Sarah asked, “Is Lacey an artist by any chance?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just answer me, please.”
“She’s taking some kind of painting class down at the community college one night a week, why?”
“No reason. Gotta run.”
She hung up the phone, undoubtedly leaving Luke shaking his head in disbelief. But she had no time to explain.
The little shop was about twenty miles outside of town in a sleepy little nondescript strip mall. She almost missed it, as it was hidden in the far corner of the center behind a massive apple tree.
The parking lot was eerily empty, and she almost though the place was closed. But she noticed a pink haired girl leaning on the counter inside. The girl stood upright as soon as Sarah entered the shop, causing the little doorbell to chime pleasantly. She closed the book she’d been reading.
“Can I help you?” she asked Sarah.
“I called earlier about Sullivan’s acetone,” Sarah said.
“Oh, yeah, it’s right over…”
“No, wait,” Sarah said. “Actually, I don’t need to buy any.” She held up her press pass and the pink haired girl’s eyes widened. “I’m investigating an arson and potential murder attempt.”
“Whoa, deep,” said the girl. “What do you need?”
“There’s a suspect already, but the police won’t investigate further until they have concrete evidence,” Sarah explained. “I have to get something for them to go on, or someone could die. Can you help?”
“I guess so,” the girl shrugged. “But what can I do?”
“My contact at the police department says an accelerant was used in a fire where several firefighters were nearly killed. That accelerant turned out to be Sullivan’s acetone. I need to know who bought it.”
“Why do you think they bought it here?” the girl asked.
“Yours is the only store within 20 miles that still sells it,” Sarah answered. “They don’t make it anymore.”
“Oh,” said the girl, twirling her pink hair.
Sarah realized she had no photo of Lacey, and she cursed under her breath. She did a quick search on her phone and located a Facebook page for Lacey. She pulled up her profile picture and showed it to Pink.
“Do you recognize her?” Sarah asked.
The girl shook her head and picked at her eyebrow ring. “I’ve only been working here a week.”
“Damn,” Sarah muttered. “Can you think of anything that can help me figure out who bought this, then? Do you know who was working here before you?”
“No idea,” she said. “I don’t even really know what I’m doing yet, but the owner had to find someone to run the place on short notice.”
“I need something… anything!” Sarah pleaded.
“So what do you want? Security tapes?”
“Do you guys have cameras?” Sarah asked hopefully.
“Yeah. I can let you borrow the tapes you need, but please get them back as soon as you can. I really can’t afford to lose another job.”
Pink disappeared into the back and came out carrying a box of VHS tapes. She thrust the box into Sarah’s hands.
“That’s all the tapes from the last month or so,” said Pink. “Hope it helps.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said. “I’ll get these back as soon as I possibly can.”
“’K,” Pink said. “Good luck.”
Sarah shoved the tapes into her backseat and raced back to the office, eager to use their equipment to view the tapes.
This wouldn’t be the first time she’d worked far into the evening hours at the office, but this time she had a far greater purpose than ever before. As the coffee dripped behind her, she dove into the tapes, starting the day of the fire and working her way backwards. She used fast forward to skip through the tapes, but she was worried she might miss something crucial.
It was nearly three in the morning before she was ready to give up for the night. She’d already gone back nearly two weeks from the fire, and she was just about to throw in the towel when she spotted someone who looked an awful lot like Lacey approaching the counter with an armful of merchandise.
The footage was incredibly grainy, but she could barely make out what appeared to be the same engagement ring Lacey wore, or something incredibly similar. She squinted, trying to see the purchases being made, but the woman’s body was hiding the counter from sight. She did notice her swiping a card for the purchase rather than paying cash.
After reviewing the footage multiple times, she was certain it was Lacey. She made three copies of the tape and then put the original back into the box with the other tapes. She’d return them to the store the next day at lunchtime. For now, she quickly scribbled the date and time on each of her copies. One, she placed on Fuller’s desk. One she locked in the safe in her office. The third would be taken directly to the police.
Chapter Fourteen
Armed with the surveillance tape, Sarah made her way to the police department before work the next morning to speak with Officer Bond, who ushered her straight into his office.
“I suppose you’ve received the information from the lab?” Sarah asked him.
“No, not yet, I’m afraid,” he told her.
“Really? Because I have.”
“What? How did…”
“A friend at work has a contact at the lab,” she interrupted him. “The accelerant was a brand of acetone called Sullivan’s. It’s typically used by artists. Lacey happens to be taking a painting class at the community college once a week.”
“That doesn’t prove anything, Sarah.”
“No, but this does,” she said, pulling the surveillance tape from her purse and handing it to him. “I found one store within twenty miles that still sells Sullivan’s acetone. It hasn’t been manufactured for around a year, so it’s hard to find. And a woman who looks suspiciously like Lacey is on this tape about two weeks before the fire making a rather large purchase.”
“You caught her buying that specific brand?” asked Officer Bond, leaning forward excitedly.
“Not exactly,” Sarah said. “You can’t see exactly what she’s buying. But she’s buying something from the only store within twenty miles that still has some of this stuff in stock.”
“It’s circumstantial,” Bond argued. “I can’t use this. It’s useless.”
“Please, just take a look at it,” she pleaded. “Maybe your guys can find something with your forensic stuff. Enhance it.”
“I’ll take a look and see if anything can be done,” he promised her. “But if you can get something more solid it would help a lot.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Sarah said. “I appreciate your help on this. I know it’s not your department.”
“Get me something more solid,” he told her.
She promised she’d try, and she left, knowing she had very little time to get to work before Mr. Fuller flipped his lid.
“Brewer!”
The gravelly voice sent shivers down her spine the moment she walked through the door, and she winced.
“Sir?” she asked, turning to face the red-faced man.
“You’re late!”
“Yes, sir. Sorry,” she said. “I was at the police department.”
“For?”
“Delivering evidence,” she said. “There’s a copy on your desk, sir.”
“It better be good,” he warned her.