Page 216 of The Devil's Fire

“I hope you’re right.” I sighed and tried to relax.

I felt my heart beating just a little faster as we neared my house. I squeezed his hand in an attempt to comfort myself in some way. We drove closer and closer, only for confusion to set in when he drove past the house without stopping.

“Why are you not stopping? You just missed it.” I looked at him, but he remained focused, scanning the area.

“I’m just going to drive around the block to make sure it’s safe before we get out. Just in case.” He slowed down a bit as he kept looking around. I did the same, my eyes scanning the area to see if anything looked suspicious.

Michael was being careful and thorough as he drove around a few times, then stopped and parked further away from the house to see if someone had followed us.

Fortunately, there wasn’t anything, and he pulled up in front of the house. My heart was racing when I got out of the car, and I could feel my legs losing a bit of strength as I looked around.

Every single thing came rushing back to me; gunshots, screaming, running, and blood. I knew this would be hard, and I hadn’t even taken a step inside the house, yet already, I was feeling like this.

Michael pulled me close to his side, keeping a vigilant watch. I noticed he had his gun in his hand, though hidden if anyone were to look our way.

I let out a breath as we stood in front of the door, hesitating a little before pulling the handle down. Only to find it locked.

“Huh, that’s weird…” I muttered and tried the door again in case it was just stuck. It remained stubbornly locked. “Who could have locked it? It’s not like we had the time to lock the freaking door before running for our lives.” I frowned, and then it hit me. It could have only been him.

“Don’t you have a key?” Michael turned his head to look at me while keeping an eye out.

“No…” I sighed in frustration. We came all the way here for nothing. “I didn’t expect it to be locked.” I said, glancing around the front porch.

“Want me to kick it open?”

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea.” I raised a brow at him, and he just shrugged his shoulders at me as if saying ‘I tried’.

“Actually… No, wait! Maybe there’s still a spare key out here?” I rushed to the small bench on the porch.

“I just remembered she used to put a spare key here because there was a time when I kept forgetting my keys.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He grinned, and I flipped him off in response. Crouching down, I reached under the bench, feeling around until my fingers found the tiny hole my mother had made to place the spare key.

“Found it!” I exclaimed happily and pulled the key out. I unlocked the door, only to be halted just before I could turn the handle.

“Let me go in first, but stay close behind me.” Michael cautiously opened the door, gun at the ready in case someone were to suddenly appear.

We stepped into the house, listening intently for any signs of movement, but all was quiet. I released a breath when Michael declared it safe. At least for now.

Scanning the surroundings, I found the house surprisingly clean. Damiano must have taken care of that.

Being back inside the house flooded me with so many emotions that I had to bite my lip to keep it from trembling. I swallowed hard as I made my way to my mother’s bedroom. Neither Michael nor I said much as he checked out the house. He didn’t push for conversation, recognizing the difficulty of the moment, and I appreciated that.

Reaching my mother’s bedroom, I turned to him.

“Can you stay out here, or maybe grab the photo albums for me while I go in? I just want to do it alone.” He nodded and headed to the living room after I directed him to where the albums were.

Closing the door behind me, I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. The weight of being back in this place hit me hard.

I pushed my emotions aside, trying to clear my head, knowing time was limited. I searched the room, my main goal being to find anything that could provide answers or at least a clue. Until recently, I had never suspected my mother of anything, but now I knew she was involved in something; something that ultimately led to her death.

I continued my search in her closet, sifting through her clothes and feeling for any hidden compartments. I couldn’t shake the feeling that if there were secrets to be kept, they would be hidden somewhere in her bedroom.

I kept looking around, my eyes darting in every direction, but the more I searched, the more my frustration grew as nothing came into view.

With a huff, I placed my hands on my hips and looked around in the room, trying to think from my mother’s perspective. Where would she hide something she didn’t want anyone to find?

I almost gave up when I stared at the large carpet that was under the bed. I mentally groaned when I realized I had to move her gigantic bed and the large carpet to see if there was anything there.

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