“I have.” He shrugged. “I fell for it too.”
I raked my hand through my hair aggressively.
“Fucking answer.” I dialed Jameson’s number again but to no avail.
After some tension-filled minutes and questionable driving maneuverers worthy of racetrack representation, we pulled up to the storage facility to find heavy black smoke billowing from the building while a bloody media circus full of news reporters and cameras took up residence on the curb.
“Jesus, what the hell is with all the camera crews?”
We were a small town with our local news station being thirty minutes away, so it wasn’t often reporters were boots-to-the-ground kind of people around here. Much like me, Jaxon was about to get a firsthand sampling of the intrusive media attention Lakelyn garnered.
I was out of my truck before Jaxon shifted it into park, only to be swarmed by reporters as I tried to rush toward the scene.
“Are the reports true that Lakelyn married her dead twin sister’s husband?”
“Can you comment on the fact that—”
“Are you fucking serious right now? There’s a goddamn fire that’s out of control. Get out of my way,” I snapped and continued pushing through the crowd, not giving a damn that I was rude.
The reporters were a sea of relentless vultures who had their priorities ass-backward and appeared more interested in Lakelyn’s alleged activity rather than the problematic building fire risking the health and safety of all those working onsite or potentially trapped inside.
The scene was chaotic, with crews scrambling to control the fire’s intensity. I busied myself scouring through the masses, looking for the captain, when I spotted Mitchell, the facility’s owner, getting treated in the back of one of the ambulances for what looked like a nasty gash to the forehead.
His eyes widened when he spotted me. “Boden, I tried to help. I tried to stop him.”
“Stop who, Mitchell? Tell me what happened.”
“This guy, really shady-looking fella. He rented a unit a few weeks back.”
I opened my photos app and pulled up one of Anthony’s prior mugshots. “Is this him?”
“Yes, yes, that’s him.” He pointed with surety. “At first, he would come during the day, trucked some stuff in, then he started coming late at night and not leaving.”
“Meaning he stayed overnight in a storage locker?”
“Yes. I tried questioning him but didn’t get far. Then this morning, when I arrived for the day, I swore I heard a woman scream.”
“Are you sure?”
“I wasn’t at first, so I went for a walk. All was quiet until I got to the rental unit and heard shouting through the door. My cell phone then rang, and I froze. The next thing I knew, the door to the unit flew up, and a bat came swinging for my head. After a few attempts, the guy managed to land a blow, and I fell to the ground. All went fuzzy, but not before I saw a woman tied up inside.”
“Where are they now? Are they still inside?”
“I think so, but I don’t know for sure.”
“What do you mean?” I shouted in agitation.
“I left to call the police from the front desk because the guy smashed my cell phone with the bat, but before I got there, the fire alarms started going off.”
“What’s the unit number?”
“Eleven twenty-six. It’s in the back corner on the left.”
“Eleven twenty-six,” I repeated and took off.
“Boden, wait.”
Jaxon grabbed my arm. “You can’t go in there.”
