And it should scare the crap out of me.
And yet…a sense of peace and calmness comes over me when I recollect that moment with her.
Ashley’s bare hips in my hands.
Her eyes wide but with a touch of innocence that she miraculously never lost, locked on mine.
Her mouth parted in bliss.
And all I want to do is make her broken heart whole.
The best way I know how to do that is to help heal her past.
Right on cue, my phone buzzes. I turn off the truck and glance at the screen before swiping.
“Hey, Pete.”
“It’s not in the report.”
“I’m not following.”
“The location of where the fire started. The officer on duty that night didn’t put it into the official police report.”
That makes no sense.
“Isn’t that unusual?” I ask him.
“Not necessarily. The implication in the report is that the resident was nearby.”
“You mean Aaron, the man who died in the fire?”
“Yes.”
“Well, who would have the specifics? Someone must, right?” I’m not going to let this go just because someone didn’t take good enough notes.
“The fire chief. He’s retired now.”
I clench my jaw. “Let’s reach out to him. Is he in New Orleans still?”
“He is, and I’m already on it. I’m going to see about getting my hands on his report.”
“Great. I appreciate it.”
“This girl must mean a lot to you, huh?”
“She means the world,” I say simply. “And you uncovering this information could change her life.”
“I’ll do my best. Be in touch,” and he clicks off.
I toss my phone onto the passenger seat in frustration.
If the chief has a comprehensive report from that night, it should have the location of the heater listed.
It has to.
If not, I’ll find out another way.
I get out of my truck and stare out at the mountains. Maybe I’m wasting my time.
