Page 19 of Slow Burn
Leaning in, he focused up. “Alright, Darlin’. I’ll bite. Why?”
Taking a breath, she began: “The fire started in her room. They said a candle caught the curtain.”
He didn’t know much about the nitty-gritty of the fire. He’d been fourteen at the time and already on his path of destruction. The hubbub surrounding that night only sent him down faster.
“Okay,” he said, trying to understand the importance.
Her focus remained on the coffee she hadn’t even taken a sip of. “But she didn’t keep candles over there.”
“Maybe she moved it.”
“Maybe,” she acknowledged, but he heard the doubt there. “But how come she didn’t notice?” Jocelyn cut a look to him. “Do you know how long it takes for a house to go up?”
It was clear the question was meant to be rhetorical, this line of thought obviously well-worn.
“Ten minutes?” he tossed out anyway.
She smiled a little, having expected that. “A new build, yeah. Less, actually.”
Because he was a firefighter’s son, her knowledge trumping his irked him. There was one thing he knew for a fact: very few houses in Cedar Hollow had been built later than the 1980’s. And even though he didn’t know much about the fire, he did remember that house. It was older than most.
“That house wasn’t new.”
Her smile grew, even if it was grim. “No, it wasn’t. It would’ve taken closer to twenty minutes for it to be fully engulfed.”
He squinted at her. “Wasn’t it at night? She might’ve been asleep.”
“Chief Ward said the call came in sometime around ten. I woke up around then, and your dad got me out before the fire truck arrived. By the time they pulled in, the whole house was on fire, and they couldn’t get in.”
He tapped the tabletop with a finger, trying to nail what it was she was getting at. It felt just out of reach, so he grasped onto the details he could follow. “So probably started sometime around 9:30-9:45.”
She was excited now, pink brightening her cheeks and lighting up her eyes. “Right. Tell me, what time would the average adult go to bed?”
He clicked his tongue, her point solidifying. “Around that time—ifthey’re early-risers.”
She was leaning forward now, too, breathing his air. “My mom was a night owl since she usually worked the later shifts at the diner.”
He shifted back, not wanting to let her proximity get to his head again. “You don’t think she was asleep.”
“No, I don’t. Ward tried to feed me some line that she’d been drinking. I’d seen her drink a glass of wine myself, but that was a pretty regular thing for her, and she didn’t like being drunk.”
It was only a faint shadow, the doubt easy enough to ignore. Plenty of others had. “Then what do you think happened? She was there when it started, didn’t try to put it out, didn’t come for you.”
Her shoulders lifted. “That’s why I’m here. To do the math myself—because none of it adds up.”
He studied her. “Nonemight be stretchin’ things.”
The brightness in her face dimmed like a lightning bug going out as her walls slammed back into place.
“I’m just playing devil’s advocate, here, Darlin’,” he said, softer now, a little mad at himself for putting out that light. “Hell, all I know about that fire is everyone wanted a piece of Pop. It stole him away from me for a long time.” He hadn’t meant to say that last part and looked away when her expression softened.
She took the hint and sipped her coffee.
“I’m just sayin’,” he went on after a minute, guarded again, “folks agreed with what was in those reports for a reason.”
Her scowl said she didn’t think they should’ve. “Yeah. They would.”
The bitter words stung his skin, wending their way into his chest, oddly deep. Like she was indirectly accusinghimof something, though she wasn’t. Couldn’t be.
