Her office was small but efficiently organized, with commendation certificates on the walls and family photos on her desk. Holt noticed a picture of Shaun in his dress uniform, forever young and smiling.
“I’ve been going through the files from the fire that killed your husband,” Holt said gently, opening the folder. “I have some concerns about how the investigation was handled.”
“Did you see what I wrote at the back of the main folder?” Willa asked, settling into her chair.
“Yes,” Holt nodded. “That’s actually part of what concerns me. The targeting was clearly systematic and personal, but the official investigation seems to have ignored that pattern.”
“I told the previous detective, Nigel Frost, to keep investigating,” Willa said with evident frustration. “But he insisted there was nothing more to check. Which was odd because when the fires started and the incidents began happening alongside them, he was the one who first thought to link them together.”
“What changed his mind?” Holt asked, making notes.
“I think there were things happening to him as well,” Willa said thoughtfully. “I’m sure he noted them down somewhere. I know his tires were slashed at least once, and he got a warning note left on his windshield.”
Holt made a mental note to contact Nigel Frost and ask about his experiences during the investigation. It seemed increasingly strange that the detective who had initially recognized the pattern would suddenly close the case without pursuing obvious leads.
“Didn’t Nigel’s mother have that fatal accident a few weeks before all the fires that led up to the main one?” Holt asked, his memory stirring. “If I remember correctly?”
“That’s right,” Willa said with a sad nod. “I think he was distracted during the arson investigations because of that. His mind was focused on proving his mother’s accident was actually murder.”
“Did he conduct an official investigation into her death?” Holt asked.
“Yes,” Willa nodded. “Chief Morrison agreed with Nigel’s suspicions initially, but all the evidence pointed to it being a genuine accident caused by a faulty brake line.”
“How often are brake lines actually faulty in newer vehicles?” Holt asked rhetorically, his investigative instincts immediately suspicious.
“Shaun agreed with Nigel’s theory that it wasn’t an accident,” Willa said, her expression darkening with painful memories. “He was the first responder on the scene who cut Cynthia out of the car wreckage. She was still alive when he reached her, and she kept saying over and over, ‘They wanted to kill me. Tellmy boy to be careful.’“ Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Nigel arrived on the scene just as they were loading her into the ambulance. Shaun heard her tell Nigel the exact same warning. She died from massive internal bleeding and organ damage on the way to the hospital.”
“If both Shaun and Nigel believed it was murder, why didn’t Chief Morrison continue the investigation?” Holt asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Alvin Frost told everyone that his wife’s mental health had been declining rapidly,” Willa explained. “Nigel was convinced his father was lying about that. He insisted his mother’s mental health had been perfectly fine, and that his father was the one who had pushed for the bipolar diagnosis and medication.”
“What happened when Nigel challenged that narrative?” Holt asked.
“When Nigel insisted on getting a second psychiatric opinion, his father kicked him out of the family home,” Willa said with a heavy sigh. “And then the night before his mother’s fatal accident, she’d actually gone to stay with Nigel in his apartment because she and Alvin had gotten into a huge fight about something.”
Holt nodded thoughtfully. “I seem to remember that Cynthia’s family had all the money, and that was the reason Alvin was appointed CEO of her father’s financial company when he married her.”
“Exactly,” Willa confirmed. “Nigel and Shaun had become close friends during the investigation period. Shaun was also completely convinced that Cynthia’s accident wasn’t an accidentat all.” She frowned. “At one point, Nigel even accused his father of trying to steal his mother’s company from her.”
Something triggered an alarm bell in Holt’s analytical mind. “You mentioned that Nigel also started experiencing incidents just like Shaun in the weeks before the fatal fire?”
“Yes,” Willa nodded grimly. “When we discovered the evidence of deliberate arson from the first few small fires, Nigel was convinced they were all connected to his mother’s death somehow.”
“Did he or Shaun develop any theories about why someone would target just the two of them?” Holt asked.
“It wasn’t just the two of them being targeted,” Willa told him. “Margo Tanner was also experiencing incidents.”
“Margo?” Holt said, flipping through the files with increased interest. “I don’t see any reports about that in here.”
“Turn to page twenty-two,” Willa directed. “You’ll see the fire reports for the dumpster fires behind Teacups and the inn. The burners being left on in the coffee shop and bakery’s kitchens. Plus her tires were slashed multiple times, and the windows of her cottage beside the inn were broken twice.”
Holt turned to the fire reports and scanned them carefully. “Where are the police reports about the vandalism to her property?”
“You’ll have to ask Chief Morrison for those files,” Willa told him. “They should be in the police records.”
“Do you know if Shaun, Margo, or Nigel had any personal connection to Gilbert Fry?” Holt asked. “It seems strange thathe would target the three of them specifically for no apparent reason.” His brow creased even more. “Did he know Cynthia?”
“No, none of us knew him personally,” Willa said with certainty. “As far as anyone determined, he was just here on vacation, gathering footage and content for his podcast or YouTube channel about small-town drama and tangled relationships.” She shrugged. “Whatever that was supposed to mean.”
