Chapter 7 – The Fire He Started
The drive to the house felt endless.
Every red light seemed to last forever.
My father gripped the steering wheel while Daniel contacted the police, explaining that we had received a threatening voicemail connected to an ongoing legal dispute.
As we turned onto my street, flashing red and blue lights filled the night.
Three police cruisers.
Two fire engines.
An ambulance.
My stomach dropped.
The front lawn was crowded with neighbors watching in stunned silence.
Smoke drifted from an upstairs bedroom window.
I jumped out of the car before it had fully stopped.
"My son!" I cried instinctively.
A firefighter caught my arm.
"Ma'am, no one's inside."
I nearly collapsed with relief.
Ethan was safe at my father's house.
A police detective approached us.
"Mrs. Whitman?"
"I prefer Amanda Carter."
He nodded.
"Your security company alerted emergency services after the alarm system detected forced entry and smoke."
"The house was empty."
"It appears someone knew that."
Inside, the damage was surprisingly limited.
A fire had been started in the master bedroom closet.
It had burned only a small section before the automatic sprinkler system activated.
The detective knelt beside the blackened floor.
"This wasn't an accident."
He held up a half-melted plastic gasoline container.
"Someone wanted the fire to spread."
As investigators photographed the scene, another officer called from the hallway.
"Detective! You need to see this."
We followed him into Richard's former home office.
The room had been torn apart.
Cabinets stood open.
Desk drawers were scattered across the floor.
Someone had searched frantically for something.
"They weren't here to burn the house," Daniel said quietly.
"They were looking for evidence."
The detective agreed.
"And when they couldn't find it, they tried to destroy everything."
I walked toward the hallway security monitor.
Despite the fire, the backup system had survived.
The detective loaded the footage.
A hooded figure appeared at the front door just after 8:40 p.m.
He entered using a key.
My spare key.
His face remained hidden for several minutes as he searched room after room.
Then, in the hallway mirror...
The hood slipped back.
Richard.
No one spoke.
The detective paused the video.
"I believe we have probable cause for an arrest warrant."
Just then, another officer hurried inside holding a phone.
"Sir, we found this outside near the mailbox."
It was Richard's company cell phone.
Apparently dropped in his panic.
The detective unlocked it using emergency authorization.
A recent text message flashed across the screen.
Burn everything. She can't find the files.
The message had been sent...
To Vivian.
The detective slowly looked up.
"So his mother was involved."
My father exhaled heavily.
"Amanda..."
I looked at the frozen image of Richard on the monitor.
A man so desperate to protect his lies that he had set fire to the very home he once claimed as his own.
He thought he was destroying evidence.
Instead...
He had just handed the police the strongest case against him yet.
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And by sunrise, Richard Whitman would no longer be running from the truth.
He would be running from the law.
