Chapter 2 - The Room They Wanted Destroyed
Three fire engines blocked Hawthorne Avenue when Amelia arrived.
Neighbors stood beneath umbrellas on the sidewalk, watching smoke rise from the second floor of the narrow craftsman house Amelia and James had purchased seven years earlier.
The fire was already under control.
A firefighter stopped Amelia at the edge of the property.
“I live here.”
He studied her identification and waved over a woman wearing a dark fire-investigation jacket.
“This is Investigator Elena Soto,” he said. “She needs to ask you some questions.”
Elena had short black hair, a steady voice and the watchful expression of someone who noticed more than she revealed.
“Were you expecting anyone at the property today?”
“No.”
“Does anyone else have access?”
“My father and brother had emergency codes. My husband created them years ago.”
“You received a door notification?”
Amelia showed her the access log and camera recording.
Elena watched without speaking. Then she requested a digital copy.
“The fire appears to have started inside the upstairs office,” she said. “The door was closed, which slowed its spread. Your suppression system activated quickly.”
“James designed that system.”
Elena glanced at her.
“Your husband?”
“He died three weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Amelia had heard the words dozens of times. From Elena, they did not sound automatic.
“Was the office primarily his workspace?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He was a forensic accountant.”
Elena looked back toward the house.
That answer had changed something.
“Did he keep sensitive records there?”
“I don’t know.”
James had never discussed his clients by name. He investigated financial misconduct for companies, attorneys and insurance firms. Most nights, he left work at his downtown office.
During the final month of his life, however, he had spent increasing amounts of time in the room upstairs.
He installed a new lock.
He replaced the hallway camera.
He began carrying a portable storage case whenever he left the house.
A black storage case.
The same kind Troy had carried through the smoke.
An officer approached Elena and spoke quietly. She nodded, then turned to Amelia.
“We found signs that someone searched the office before the fire spread. Drawers were opened. A cabinet was damaged. At this point, we’re treating the scene as suspicious.”
“Did they take anything?”
“We won’t know until you identify what was there.”
Amelia looked toward the second-floor window. Black marks stained the white frame. Water dripped from the roofline.
A dark sedan was parked across the street.
She recognized it immediately.
Her father’s car.
The rear passenger door opened.
Richard Carter stepped out wearing the same beige trench coat visible in the camera recording.
Troy emerged from the other side in his green plaid jacket.
Amelia’s grief briefly disappeared beneath a surge of disbelief.
Her father hurried toward her.
“Amelia, thank God you’re safe.”
He opened his arms, but she stepped back.
Richard stopped.
Rain gathered in his silver hair.
“We heard about the fire,” he said.
“How?”
A pause.
“One of the neighbors called.”
Amelia looked toward the watching crowd.
“Which neighbor?”
Richard’s face remained composed, but Troy shifted his weight.
“What does it matter?” Troy asked. “Your house was on fire.”
“You said you were out of town.”
“I came back early.”
“And Dad said he was in a meeting.”
Richard lowered his voice.
“This isn’t the time.”
Amelia held up her phone.
“When is the right time to talk about this?”
She played the recording.
Richard’s face changed only once, when Troy looked directly toward the hallway camera. Then his expression settled into patient concern.
“That isn’t what it looks like.”
“You entered my house.”
“We received an alert from the security system,” Richard said. “We came to make sure you were safe.”
“I was in Seattle. You knew that.”
“We thought someone might be inside.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“The situation happened quickly.”
Elena joined them.
“Mr. Carter, I’m Investigator Soto. I’ll need both of you to remain available for interviews.”
Richard offered a polished smile.
“Of course. We’re only concerned about my daughter.”
Elena looked at the black storage case inside Troy’s car.
“Did you remove anything from the property?”
“No,” Troy answered too quickly.
Amelia followed Elena’s gaze.
Richard placed a hand on Troy’s shoulder.
“We should let the professionals work.”
They returned to the sedan.
Amelia watched them drive away.
“Do you believe them?” she asked Elena.
“My job isn’t to believe people,” Elena replied. “It’s to verify what they say.”
When firefighters finally allowed Amelia into the ground floor, the house smelled of smoke and wet plaster. Water ran down the staircase. Family photographs hung crooked on the walls.
Elena instructed her not to enter the office.
Amelia stopped outside the kitchen instead.
Something white rested on the floor beneath the mail slot.
It was an envelope addressed in James’s handwriting.
AMELIA ONLY.
The paper was dry.
It had not been delivered through the mail. There was no stamp.
Someone had pushed it beneath the door shortly before the fire.
Inside was a single line.
The safest place is the one they believe you already emptied.
Beneath the sentence, James had drawn a small burgundy square.
Amelia looked down at the shirt still folded across her suitcase.
Her hands began to shake.
May you like
The evidence her family wanted might never have been in the office.
James had hidden it in something they believed was only clothing.
