Chapter 2
“Get him in the car!” Sheriff Grady barked.
Deputy Weller grabbed the boy’s arm, but Jace didn’t resist. He just stared at the flames, eyes wide and vacant, like his soul hadn’t caught up to his body.
The acrid stench of gasoline clung to him. His clothes were soaked, charred at the cuffs. His hands trembled at his sides.
Grady leaned down, sniffed once, then pulled back fast. “Damn near poured it on himself.”
“I told you,” Jace muttered. “I didn’t set it.”
“You were seen running from the woods,” Grady growled. “And you’re dripping in gas. You think we’re stupid?”
“I was trying to get her out.” His voice cracked. “But she was already... she was screaming. Then she wasn’t.”
Deputy Weller looked uneasy. “Sheriff, maybe we oughta let the medics check—”
“No.” Grady cut him off. “We’re takin’ him in.”
Across the road, Nathan stood beside a rusted mailbox, arms folded, watching every second. He didn’t move, didn’t blink.
His gut clenched.
This was off.
The boy didn’t look like an arsonist. He looked like a broken branch in a storm.
He whispered to himself, “That kid’s not lying.”
Someone next to him echoed the thought. “He didn’t do it.”
Nathan turned.
An old man in a coat two sizes too big was leaning against a tree, a cigarette trembling between his fingers.
“You say something?” Nathan asked.
The man nodded slowly. “That boy? Jace? Ain’t got it in him. He ain’t got nothin’. Too quiet. Too kind.”
Nathan studied him. “You know him?”
“Everybody in this town knows everybody. Jace ain’t like the others. Keeps to himself. Draws things. Watches the stars.” He flicked ash. “You ever see a firestarter who cries at the sight of smoke?”
Nathan looked back at Jace being shoved into the cruiser. The kid didn’t fight. He just folded in, like he’d already lost.
“You think he’s innocent?” Nathan asked.
“I think Hollow Creek don’t ask questions it don’t want answers to,” the old man said.
Nathan’s phone buzzed. He glanced down. A text from Marlene.
Did you make it? Everything okay?
He didn’t respond.
The fire crackled louder behind him. Windows burst. Embers flew like dying stars into the black sky.
Grady turned to the crowd. “Anyone else here when it started? Speak up now.”
No one moved. No one breathed.
A few kids from town stood in a huddle, wide-eyed. One of them whispered something. Another shook her head quickly. Nathan caught it. Fear.
“Where’s the girl?” Grady barked. “Somebody said a girl was inside.”
A woman sobbed. “Callie... she was in her room...”
The firemen dragged a hose forward, too little, too late.
Nathan stepped closer to the cruiser.
Jace sat inside, head down, fingers clenched into fists so tight they were white. His lips moved.
Nathan knocked on the window gently.
Jace looked up, startled.
Nathan didn’t smile. Just spoke low. “What did they say to you?”
Jace blinked fast. “I—I can’t—”
“I’m not a cop,” Nathan added. “I’m here for something else. Just tell me.”
“They said it had to burn,” Jace whispered. “They told me... no one would believe me.”
“Who told you?”
Jace swallowed. “They wear masks. They watch from the woods. They said it was my turn.”
Before Nathan could respond, the door opened.
“Step back, Rourke,” Grady warned. “This ain’t your case.”
“Wasn’t trying to make it mine,” Nathan replied. “Just seems like maybe you’re making it yours a little fast.”
Grady’s eyes narrowed. “You’re three hours off the bus and already pokin’ around?”
Nathan stared him down. “My brother’s body is barely cold, and you want to pretend this town’s clean?”
Grady leaned in close, voice low. “Don’t go digging where snakes sleep, Rourke. You’ll get bit.”
Nathan didn’t flinch. “You should’ve told me what he was working on.”
“Wasn’t my place.”
“You were the last person to see him alive.”
Grady said nothing. His jaw clenched, then he turned and slammed the door shut behind Jace.
The cruiser pulled away, tail lights disappearing into the dark.
Nathan stood there long after everyone else had cleared.
The fire hissed behind him. The girl hadn’t made it out. Callie was gone.
The old man in the coat stepped closer again.
“You gonna help him?” he asked.
Nathan didn’t look away from the trees. “I’m gonna find out what really happened.”
The man took one last drag of his cigarette, flicked it into the grass, and muttered, “Then you better start prayin’. 'Cause Hollow Creek don’t like outsiders. And it don’t forgive diggers.”
Nathan whispered to himself, voice barely audible, “Neither do I.”
He walked away from the burning house, his mind spinning.
This wasn’t random.
This wasn’t some lost kid playing with matches.
This was Hollow Creek.
And Hollow Creek was hiding something.
