Chapter 5

The sharp shrill of sirens dragged Nero from an already restless sleep. Glow from the red lights of a fire engine cut through the darkness in the cabin, splashing the walls with an eerie light. Blinking, Nero hoisted himself out of bed and stumbled the few steps it took to get to the window that looked out over Cooper Springs.

"What the hell? Is that what I think it is?"

Half-awake, he hurriedly pulled on his jeans, a t-shirt, and a thick wool sweater. Shoving his feet into his boots, Nero shrugged into his peacoat and headed out the door. At the last minute, he remembered to lock up and then tucked his keys into his coat pocket.

Hurrying down the footpath to the parking lot, he decided not to drive to the scene; the Explorer would just be in the way. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, Nero crossed the highway and walked quickly toward the flashing lights. Selfishly, he hoped it wasn't the historic Cooper Mansion, but he was very afraid he was wrong.

Within blocks, he knew he was wrong.

For once, it wasn't drizzling, showering, or otherwise raining. But with all the storms they'd had recently, maybe the general damp would save the old building. He quickened his pace, as if his arrival would stop the hungry flames from devouring the town's history.

A water truck blocked the street and a second engine was parked on the sidewalk. Nero wasn't the only one who'd come out to watch the firefighters do their jobs. He recognized the rumpled form of Rufus Ferguson and walked over to stand by his side.

"Hi, Rufus. What happened?"

"Hey, Nero." Rufus shook his head. "No idea yet. Looks like someone called the fire station in time, but who knows."

Several people were milling around but staying behind the yellow tape that had been stretched across the street. Rufus, who seemed to know everyone and probably did, raised his hand in greeting toward the group.

"I was hoping to get access to the archives stored there," Nero said morosely. "I'm guessing they no longer exist."

Even with the responders' lights and the streetlamps, it was dark. Nero peered around at the rest of the crowd. If a fire had been purposefully set, an arsonist often would stick close by to watch their work. Unsurprisingly, Nero didn't recognize anyone. He did see police chief Andre Dear and the two brand-new officers directing traffic. But no one was looking particularly guilty while also holding a lighter and something inflammable.

"Doesn't look good, that's for sure," Rufus said. "If it makes you feel any better, whatever was stored there was probably destroyed long ago. There was a flood or something, I remember."

"I heard there'd been a leak. The librarian told me about it. But he seemed to think the old newspapers might still be okay."

Rufus glanced up at him. "The Cooper Sentinel? Magnus claims I'm a hoarder, but I have a few years' worth."

Nero eyed the older man. "A few years?"

"In my defense, it was a weekly, not a daily. But my Da always saved them and after he passed, I guess I just kept it up."

As horrified as Nero was by the loss of the historic Cooper Springs home, a thrill shot through him at the thought that he might be able to look through copies anyway.

"Do you think I might be able to take a look at them sometime? I promise to be careful."

Someone from the growing crowd bumped into Nero's back, sending him stumbling toward the yellow tape. Rufus grabbed Nero's sleeve to keep him from falling. He turned to frown but whoever it had been, they were already gone.

"I'm happy to have you look. Stop in at the pub tomorrow and we can set up a time. Looks like they're wrapping up. Good thing it didn't spread to other houses." Rufus turned away from the ruined mansion. "I might be able to set you up with Robert Butler too. He was the last publisher, ran the Sentinel until the end."

Nero followed Rufus's lead, heading back toward the highway and the relative comfort of his tiny rental cabin.

"Robert lives in some kind of bougie assisted-living place south of Aberdeen. He loves to get visitors, especially folks interested in the past."

Nero smiled at Rufus's use of the word bougie.

"I'll find you tomorrow," Nero promised as he continued back across the highway and up the path to Cabin Five. As he drew close, he thought he saw a human-shaped shadow dart along the side. Maybe he needed to get his eyes checked or learn to leave the outdoor light on because when he looked again, there was obviously nothing and no one there. Just a figment of his imagination.

Who would be hanging around the resort this time of night anyway? As far as Nero knew, he was the only resident until Martin opened a couple of cabins for the upcoming test run during the first annual Cooper Springs Chainsaw Art Festival.

When he got to his small front porch, Nero realized his door was slightly ajar.

"Motherfucker."

He obviously hadn't secured it as well as he'd thought. If something happened to his equipment, he'd be in trouble. Without thinking, Nero pushed inside to the dark of the cabin, flipping up the light switch by the door as he did so.

"Mother fucking hell."

The cabin was a mess. His bedding was strewn around, the mini fridge's door hung open, and the few books he'd brought with him were flung to the floor. Nero stood stock-still, trying to take it all in.

The plastic bins packed with his recording equipment had been pawed through but at first glance, nothing seemed to be missing. He heaved a huge sigh of relief. Even his laptop was still propped against the wall underneath the table where he'd left it. Had the intruder just missed it, had they been after something else, or had it just been kids looking for booze? Nero didn't have much; they had to have been disappointed.

The shadow he'd seen must not have been his imagination, after all.

If his laptop had been stolen, it would have been inconvenient but not the end of the world. Everything was backed up to several external hard drives as well as the cloud because Nero was that paranoid and had learned his lesson the hard way years ago.

The recording equipment would have been much harder for him to replace seeing as how he had no job and no verifiable income to parlay into a loan.

He flung the door open again, looking around but not seeing anyone or anything. There didn't appear to be any footprints that weren't his.

The half hour he'd been away had been just long enough for someone to break in. Had it been Forrest Cooper? Nero shook his head. No, he just didn't see Mr. Cranky being behind this, and he wasn't sure what his reason would have been besides a general hatred toward Nero.

But who could it have been? He was new to town, new enough that not many people even knew him yet. So far, Forrest Cooper was the only one of those who did who also appeared to actively dislike him. Even Nick Waugh was starting to come around.

He briefly considered calling Cooper Springs' finest but—he glanced back out the window toward the mansion—they were all still at the scene of the fire. Morning would be soon enough.

Had the fire been set purposely, Nero wondered, to get him out of the cabin? That seemed ridiculous. Someone had just taken advantage of him being gone when the rest of the town's attention was elsewhere. It was only a short walk to the mansion and back; if the fire had been planned, the thieves couldn't have known how long Nero would stay away.

"Dammit."

The open mini fridge suggested it was kids, maybe looking for alcohol and something easy to carry away and sell, but they'd left the computer. Maybe they didn't know that the equipment the bins held was worth a great deal of money. Maybe it had been deemed too hard to carry? He hoped they'd been disappointed by what they'd found.

Tomorrow he'd talk to the police and, he reminded himself, to Rufus about the newspapers. Nero wanted to read any original news reports that had never been scanned and put online. He also still planned on trying to speak with Amy Blass, the mother of one of the girls who disappeared.

After cleaning up the best he could, Nero tossed the clothing into a pile and changed the sheets before crawling back under the covers.

Sleep didn't come easily.