When we arrive, the smoke is visible from the end of the street. It’s blowing out of broken windows, and I feel a wave of heat hit me as we get close. Nova is standing by herself in the parking lot. People are starting to gather around the edges of the lot as firefighters struggle to get the fire under control.
Getting off my bike and jogging over to Nova, I can tell she’s been crying because there are tear stains on her face. I wrap her up in my arms.
“What caused the fire?” I ask. “Did a piece of heavy equipment malfunction?”
“I don’t know. I had to wait for one of the prospects to change my tires, and it was in flames when I arrived.”
“Did anyone get hurt?”
“No. I had the drivers take their trucks away from the building. They didn’t want to leave me alone, but I told them to start their routes. There’s no sense in them staying here. There is nothing any of us can do.”
We watch in horror as the side of the office collapses, bringing down part of the roof with it. It’s pretty clear this building is going to be a total loss. I pull Nova closer as we realize a huge piece of her grandfather’s legacy just went up in flames.
The fire marshal eventually comes over, and we introduce ourselves. His very first question is, “Were you storing gasoline inside this building?”
“No. Of course not. Storing volatile liquids inside our office would be dangerously irresponsible.”
“Yes, it would be. Did you notice anything unusual when you first arrived?”
Nova shakes her head and then stops. Her head snaps over to the still smoldering building. “A couple of minutes after I got off the phone with 911, there were two loud explosions, one after another, and the flames got higher. What do you think caused the fire?”
The fire marshal is an older man with gray hair and thick glasses. He looks at her intently and responds soberly, “We won’t know until we can get inside and conduct a proper investigation. But I need to warn you that it might be arson. The firefighters reported smelling gasoline. If we find someone brought in large containers of gasoline and then set the office on fire, it might explain the sounds you heard.”
Nova’s hands fly to her mouth, and she makes a distressed sound.
The fire marshal’s eyes move from her to me. “Do you have any idea who might want to burn down your wife’s trucking business, Mr. Jackson?”
“No, I really don’t.”
He hands me a business card and says, “We’ll need you both to make yourselves available for questioning.”
“Surely we’re not suspects.”
“Unless we find evidence of intended insurance fraud, no. But I’m sure law enforcement will want to pick your brain about possible suspects.”
I give him my own business card and tell him, “We’ll be happy to talk to anyone who can help us find answers to this senseless destruction of property.”
As he walks off, I realize that this is not Devon Marsh’s doing. He was with us when this fire started.
I ask Nova, “Do you think you can drive?”
She nods. “Yeah, where are we going, back to the clubhouse?”
“No. We’re going to my office. We’ll set you up a temporary office there.”
Her eyes go wide. “Is that allowed? Do you even have space for me?”
I begin guiding her over to her vintage vehicle. “Yeah, I own the entire building, so whatever I say goes. We have an empty space right beside my office. It’s big enough for you. If you need more space, I’ll evict one of the other businesses.”
She gets behind the wheel on shaky legs and takes a minute to acclimate herself before following me to my office.
Rachel jumps up from her desk when she sees us walking into the office. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“Yeah, we weren’t expecting to be here. We’re both going to be working out of this office for the time being. Call the cleaning crew to get office one eleven ready for use.”
She stammers, looking from one to the other of us, “Yes, sir. I’ll make some coffee as well. The two of you look like you could use some.”
“Thank you, Rachel.” As she walks away, I remind her, “Call me Mica. Everyone does.”
