“Thanks, man.”
Hanging up the phone, a man approached my side. He was looking out over the smoky terrain with a stone-cold look on his face. His brow was furrowed, and hands were on his hips. We both stood there for a little while before he finally broke the silence.
“Detective Landry,” he said.
“Brian Murphy.”
“It’s obvious this is arson, but there’s no security footage in this warehouse compound. It appears all of the cameras had been disabled before the fire was set,” he said.
“Fuck,” I said, murmuring.
“Without footage, it’ll take a couple of months before we can link this to anyone. That’s the average timeframe for a case like this.”
“Even understanding it was arson?” I asked.
“Especially with that understanding. We can know it’s arson, we can label it as arson, but the fact is that arson is extremely hard to prove. We’re going to get this fire under control first, then there are some questions we want to ask you. Starting with whether or not you or the other owner have any enemies that might want to do something like this.”
I turned my body toward him as the detective’s eyes turned to look at me.
“I have my own private investigator. He’ll contact you with the information you need to know. I’m currently entrenched in a custody battle for my niece. I have a feeling this is connected,” I said.
“Any information that you can give us will be helpful in proving this case. I’ll be happy to take a look at anything and everything you have.”
“Thank you, Detective. Do you have a card?”
The man pulled one from his pocket and handed it to me.
“I have to talk with my lawyer, then I’ll call my P.I. I’ll give him your number, and he’ll call you as soon as he can,” I said.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your warehouse.”
“No one’s hurt, and we had insurance on it. Things can be replaced. People can’t be,” I said. “Talk with you soon, Detective.”
I pulled my phone out and sent a text message to my P.I. I gave him a quick rundown of what was going on and gave him the number of the detective. Then, I called my lawyer as I turned on my truck.
“Mr. Murphy,” Luther said.
“Are you in your office? We need to talk,” I said.
“I can get there. Is everything okay?” he asked.
“No, not really. I need to see you immediately,” I said.
I hung up the phone without even saying goodbye and started at full-speed toward her place. I was not only racing against the clock at this point, but I was also racing against Lanie’s father. He was obviously devolving in his mental state and willing to destroy anything to get to Lanie.
And if we could prove this shit, our case was already half-won.
I pulled up into my lawyer’s office thirty minutes later. I saw him getting out of her car as I turned off my truck, and he immediately came walking toward me. His eyes were scanning me as I got out of my car, my eyes wild and my body smelling of smoke.
“Come into my office,” he said. “You look like you could use a place to sit.”
“There was a fire at my warehouse this morning,” I said.
“What were you storing in the warehouse?” he asked.
“New supplies my business had just purchased for our employees.”
“And the warehouse is here? In Asheville?” he asked.