Chapter 2 - The Closet That Burned First
The fire department allowed me inside the apartment the next morning.
A helmet, mask, and borrowed boots protected me from the worst debris.
Nothing protected me from seeing my life reduced to black walls and collapsed furniture.
The fire had burned hottest inside my bedroom closet.
My clothes were gone.
My grandmother’s cedar box was gone.
The folder containing her letters had become gray flakes beneath a fallen shelf.
Reyes pointed toward a dark pattern on the floor.
“Someone poured accelerant here.”
“Then they opened the bedroom window to increase airflow.”
“How can you tell?”
“The burn moved too quickly for an ordinary apartment fire.”
He showed me another pattern near the front door.
A second ignition point.
Whoever entered wanted the fire to spread before anyone noticed.
“Was I supposed to be home?”
Reyes did not answer immediately.
“Your calendar was open on the kitchen counter.”
“It showed you returning from the lawyer’s office at six.”
The first emergency call came at 6:08.
I had stayed late because the attorney wanted to review another document.
If I had returned on time, I would have walked into the apartment minutes before the hallway filled with smoke.
My mother knew my schedule.
Miles knew it too.
Reyes’s team recovered a metal lockbox from beneath the bed.
The outside had warped.
The inner compartment remained closed.
I had forgotten it was there.
My grandmother gave it to me when I was sixteen.
The brass combination dial still moved.
I entered her birthday.
The lid opened.
Inside were photographs, a cassette tape, and one sealed envelope.
My grandmother’s handwriting crossed the front.
CLAIRE, OPEN THIS ONLY IF YOUR MOTHER TRIES TO TAKE THE HOUSE.
Reyes looked at me.
“What house?”
May you like
I stared at the envelope.
“The one my parents told me had already been sold.”
