Page 121 of The Locksmith's Promise

I didn’t know how to do this.

Any of it.

But swept up in John and Eric’s enthusiasm, I didn’t have time to think about it.

We got to my father’s house just after two o’clock. Miller, John, and Eric outfitted me much like themselves and handed me a blowtorch.

“If anybody asks,” Miller shouted. “This is a training exercise.”

Miller stuck close, ensuring I stuck to the plan, while John and Eric were well-used to executing prescribed burns.

It was hot and smoky, like hell on earth, which was fitting because in my mind, that’s what I was burning.

When the surrounding field was reduced to ashes, Eric advised, “If there’s anything in there you want, best get it now.”

Jogging up to the door, I pushed it open. The truck keys along with the house key Vince had taken possession of lay on the table.

I looked around. The windows, now layered with smoke, allowed even less light in than before.

But this house harbored the darkness. I couldn’t remember much before my mom left, but perhaps it always had.

There were no happy memories here for me.

This was his house.

I didn’t have a key of my own until he died.

And I didn’t want one now. Reaching into my pocket, I retrieved the key that was his and tossed it on the table in exchange for the truck keys.

Donating his precious truck to the high school auto mechanics class would have him rolling in his grave.

Outside, Miller moved the small fire engine up closer and ensured it was ready to go if needed while Eric and John readied the fuel.

When they stepped back, Miller turned to me. “Are you ready to burn this bastard to the ground?”

Already, with all the brush burned back, the house looked even less significant.

“Never been more ready for anything in my life,” I stated.

Eric paused and turned to look down the driveway. “Someone’s coming.”

Sergeant Elliott and Maggie’s dad circled around the fire engine.

Sarge nodded at me before turning to Miller. “Chief.”

Miller nodded back, face blank. “Sarge.” He paused. “Are you here in a professional capacity, Sir?”

Sarge looked down at his Toronto Blue Jays hoodie, ancient, faded jeans, and cowboy boots. “Do I look like I’m here in a professional capacity, son?”

Miller smiled widely. “No, Sir.”

Sarge grunted and dipped his chin to greet Eric and John. “Boys.”

Eric grinned while John shook his head. “You dump a tractor in a lake one time, and they never let you grow up.”

Sergeant Elliott chuckled and looked at Maggie’s dad. “Keith, you got the sticks?”

Maggie’s dad raised a package of marshmallows and roasting sticks. “Yup.”

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