Chapter 13 - THE FRIEND WHO OPENED THE DOOR
Natalie did not look at Mason immediately.
She folded the photograph and slipped it into her pocket.
Mason was helping Ashley gather her blanket from the patrol car. His movements seemed normal. Concerned. Familiar.
He had served beside Natalie for four years.
He had attended her father’s funeral.
He had carried groceries to her apartment after she injured her ankle.
He had been the first officer to reach the bridge.
He had found Andrew’s jacket.
He had remained beside Natalie through every stage of the investigation.
And he had been present when Malcolm escaped.
Natalie turned to Rachel.
“Stay with Andrew.”
Rachel noticed the change in her expression.
“What happened?”
“Nothing yet.”
Natalie walked outside.
Mason closed the patrol car door.
“How bad is Andrew?”
“Alive.”
“Good.”
“Where’s Officer Dane?”
“Ambulance is treating him. Malcolm struck him with the handcuffs.”
“How did Malcolm get the key?”
“Hidden in his sleeve, like I said.”
“You searched him at Mercer.”
Mason’s eyes shifted slightly.
“Rachel searched him first.”
“No. I watched you do it.”
Rainwater dripped from the roof between them.
Mason’s hand rested near his holster.
Natalie kept her voice calm.
“You missed a key?”
“I was dragging two wounded men from an exploding facility.”
“Elias fell.”
“Yes.”
“So you only had Malcolm.”
Mason frowned.
“What is this?”
Natalie removed the photograph.
His expression changed for less than a second.
Enough.
“Hands away from your weapon,” she said.
Mason looked toward the house.
“Who gave you that?”
“Turn around.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Turn around.”
“Natalie, listen.”
She raised her gun.
“Now.”
Mason slowly lifted his hands.
Then the Carter house exploded.
The front windows burst outward.
A wave of heat threw Natalie across the yard.
She struck the ground hard.
Her gun disappeared into the mud.
Smoke poured from the kitchen.
“Ashley!” Natalie screamed.
Mason ran toward the house.
Natalie grabbed his ankle.
He fell.
“Get off me!”
“You set it!”
“No!”
He kicked free and rushed through the broken doorway.
Natalie followed.
Flames covered the pantry.
Andrew lay near the living room, shielding Ashley beneath his body. Rachel dragged both of them toward the porch.
Shaw was gone.
His severed handcuff hung from the radiator.
The back door stood open.
Someone had triggered an incendiary device hidden beneath the floor.
Mason lifted Ashley and carried her outside.
Natalie helped Andrew.
Within minutes, the entire kitchen was burning.
Fire crews arrived too late to save the structure.
The Carter house collapsed shortly before dawn.
Everything Andrew owned disappeared into flame.
Photographs.
Ashley’s drawings.
Rachel’s letters.
The hidden boxes.
Whatever evidence Shaw had failed to find.
Andrew sat inside an ambulance with Ashley asleep against his side.
Rachel stood nearby, uncertain whether she belonged beside them.
Natalie approached Mason.
He had soot on his face and burns along one hand from carrying Ashley through the fire.
He looked at the photograph again.
“That’s not my handwriting.”
“Your name is on it.”
“That doesn’t make it true.”
“You were present every time evidence moved.”
“So were you.”
“You found the wallet.”
“Yes.”
“You found the jacket.”
“Yes.”
“You stayed with Andrew when the hospital lost power.”
“And he stole a gun from me.”
Natalie remembered.
Andrew had emerged from the hospital carrying a security pistol, not Mason’s.
“Why did you leave him?”
“I heard shots.”
“You said you were guarding him.”
“I made a choice.”
“Did you help Malcolm escape?”
“No.”
“Did you know Shaw worked for Hartley?”
Mason hesitated.
That was his mistake.
Natalie drew her weapon again.
“What do you know?”
Mason looked toward Ashley.
“My mother worked at Hartley House.”
Natalie said nothing.
“She was a kitchen assistant,” he continued. “She died in the fire.”
“What was her name?”
“Laura Reed.”
Natalie remembered the newspaper article.
One employee had died.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew what you’d think.”
“What should I think?”
“That I joined the police to protect Hartley.”
“Did you?”
“No. I joined to find out who killed my mother.”
“Rachel started the fire.”
“And Malcolm locked the doors.”
Mason’s voice broke.
“My mother called me that night. I was fifteen. She said the children were trapped. She said a man with a scar was carrying a baby away while everyone else burned.”
Andrew.
“You blamed him,” Natalie said.
“For years.”
“Do you still?”
Mason looked toward the ambulance.
“No.”
“Then who left your name beneath Andrew’s floor?”
“I don’t know.”
A firefighter approached carrying something recovered from the edge of the kitchen.
A metal container had survived beneath the floor.
Inside was a voice recorder.
Natalie pressed play.
Andrew’s voice filled the air.
“If anyone finds this, Ashley is in danger. Do not trust Shaw. Do not trust Malcolm. Do not trust Rachel until she explains where she went after the fire.”
The recording crackled.
Then Andrew said one more name.
“And do not trust Natalie Brooks.”
Natalie froze.
Mason slowly turned toward her.
The firefighter stepped backward.
May you like
Andrew looked up from the ambulance.
For the first time since Natalie had met him, fear appeared in his eyes when he looked at her.
