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As the company grabbed their gear and headed for the firetruck, laughter filled the air, lightening the mood. Jackson chuckled. “Looks like it's time to rescue Fluffy, everyone.”
Luke grinned. “Just another day in the life of firefighters – saving pussycats.”
Another firefighter laughed heartily. “Who knew being a hero also meant rescuing feline friends?”
The friendship among the group was palpable as they shared jokes and exchanged playful banter while rushing to respond to the call. Despite the seriousness of their work, moments like these were few and far between among the usual carnage they faced.
The firetruck screeched to a halt beneath the tree, where a frantic elderly woman was waiting, tears in her eyes. As Jackson stepped out of his Tahoe, the woman ran into his arms. “Please, you have to save my precious Cleopatra.”
“We’ll take care of her, ma’am.” Jackson called out a set of orders.
With precision and skill, the firefighters set up a ladder and ascended it to rescue the stranded cat. Jackson wasn’t going to tell the woman that cats were rarely stranded. They usually returned to safety on their own. But in the darkness and the cool weather, he was worried about the older woman. He watched with a smile as one of his team members cradled the cat in their arms and lowered it safely to the ground.
Jackson turned to the woman. “Cleopatra is safe and sound, ma'am.”
Tears of joy dripped down her cheeks. “Oh, bless you all. Thank you, thank you.”
As the company packed up and headed back to the firehouse, all Jackson could do was smile.
* * *
Olivia's mind was heavy with thoughts as she sat at her desk in her Waverly County office. The events of the day had left her emotionally drained, but she had work to do. Sophie chased them out of Ruthie’s hospital room so she could get some sleep. Instead of returning to her apartment to rest, Liv pushed aside her personal concerns and focused on sorting through the information she had gathered from the Waverlys.
With gloved hands, Olivia carefully examined the cigar butt she had retrieved from the ashtray in the living room. It was a small piece of evidence, but potentially significant in her quest to uncover the truth about Jackson's connection to the Waverly family.
Sinclair Waverly’s personal life remained shrouded in mystery. In the interview, he rarely disclosed details about his past or current affairs, leaving her more curious. Sinclair’s austere exterior suggested layers of complexity and a persona that guarded his secrets with meticulous care.
She walked to the whiteboard and, following her gut, drew a line to the picture of Rainey Ashcroft. She drew another line from Rainey to the baby picture of Jackson. Her gut told her that Sinclair had taken advantage of Rainey and fathered Jackson.
As Olivia returned to her desk, her mind buzzed with the possibilities laid out before her. She carefully organized the notes she had taken during her interview with the Waverlys, each detail a potential clue to unraveling the mystery.
“The history museum... a warehouse on the east side,” Olivia muttered to herself, her brow furrowing in concentration. She knew this may hold the key to unlocking the secrets.
With a sense of urgency, Olivia made a mental checklist of her next steps. First, she needed to gain access to the history museum storage. She would need to be discreet, perhaps posing as a researcher or historian to avoid drawing suspicion. She didn’t want it to become a target of the arsonist.
She needed to trace the Waverly and Ashcroft family trees. This would require extensive research and meticulous attention to detail, but Olivia was undeterred. She was determined to leave no stone unturned in her quest for answers.
As she delved into organizing her notes, she couldn't shake the feeling that time was of the essence. The longer she waited, the more elusive the truth seemed to become.
But amidst the mess of her thoughts, one name kept resurfacing—Jackson. He was starting to trace the Waverly and Ashcroft family trees as well, and she couldn't help but wonder what he might uncover in his own investigation. Would their paths intersect, or would they find themselves on opposing sides of the truth?
Each fire occurred when he was working. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t deny it. She had to consider Jackson a suspect, though it was more likely he was the target.
Olivia's exhaustion caught up with her, and she found herself unable to keep her eyes open. With a heavy sigh, she leaned back, her head dropping over the back of the chair.
The forensic reports of each arson fire lay scattered across her desk, the details blurring together in a haze of fatigue. Olivia had spent countless hours poring over the evidence, searching for any shred of information that could lead her closer to the truth.
But now, as sleep beckoned, she couldn't fight it any longer. Her eyelids grew heavy, and before she knew it, she had succumbed to the pull of slumber.
In her dreams, flames danced before her eyes, twisting and turning with an eerie intensity. She found herself surrounded by the chaos of the arson fires, each one a vivid reminder of the danger lurking just beneath the surface.
But amidst the chaos, a single figure stood out—Jackson. He reached out to her, his expression grave but determined. Olivia reached back, grasping for his hand that seemed just out of reach.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the darkness, jolting Olivia awake. It was her phone ringing, pulling her back to reality with a start. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she reached for it, her mind still foggy from the depths of her slumber. With a groggy voice, she managed to answer, “Everhart.”
On the other end of the line, the urgency in the voice flooded her veins with adrenaline, instantly driving her to action. “Liv, it's Sergeant Eaton,” the voice crackled over the phone. “We've got a fire in the county, up in Parkside Woods. The county got it tamped down before it spread too far. PD on scene thinks it's arson.”
Olivia's heart raced as she absorbed the gravity of the situation. Another fire—this time in Parkside Woods. The proximity to Waverly Junction sent alarm bells ringing in her mind. Could this be connected to the escalating events unfolding in the small town?
