Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO DIED TWICE
I grabbed the steel case and threw myself against the door.
It didn’t move.
Gasoline spread across the floor, soaking cardboard boxes.
“Carter!” I shouted. “If you burn this place, the cameras will catch you.”
A man laughed outside.
It wasn’t Carter.
“You really think those cameras work?”
A match flared beneath the narrow gap.
Fire raced across the floor.
I wrapped my jacket around my hand and smashed the small rear window. Smoke filled the unit as I forced the steel case through the opening.
The window was barely wide enough for my shoulders.
Flames climbed the evidence wall.
I pushed through broken glass, landed behind the building and ran with the case pressed against my chest.
An explosion blew out the window behind me.
I made it to an all-night diner two miles away. Blood ran from cuts along my arms.
A waitress named June brought me a towel.
“Should I call an ambulance?”
“No police.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I can’t afford either.”
She studied me, then pointed toward the restroom.
“Clean yourself up. I’ll find a first-aid kit.”
In a booth near the kitchen, I opened the case.
The cash was intact. So were the passports and flash drive.
One passport belonged to my father under the name Charles Ward.
The other belonged to Elena Ruiz.
According to the fire report, she had died at sixteen.
According to the passport, she was alive until at least eight months ago.
I used one of the burner phones to call the number written beneath Elena’s photograph.
A woman answered.
“Camden?”
“My name is Finnley Dennis.”
Silence.
Then a shaky breath.
“Your father said you might call.”
“Where is he?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because the people watching you aren’t guessing anymore.”
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“So is your father.”
She told me to meet her the next morning at an abandoned church outside Bellhaven.
Before I could ask another question, the diner door opened.
A uniformed police officer stepped inside.
He looked directly at me.
“Finnley Dennis?”
June froze behind the counter.
The officer approached with one hand near his holster.
“You’re wanted for questioning in connection with a fire at Lakeview Self Storage.”
“The fire was set to kill me.”
“Stand up.”
Two more officers entered.
I thought of Reagan’s warning. One complaint could put me back inside.
Then June walked over carrying a coffee pot.
“He’s been here for the last two hours,” she said.
I looked at her.
That wasn’t true.
She smiled at the officers.
“The man you want came in before midnight. Check my security camera.”
The first officer hesitated.
June’s hand moved beneath the counter. A monitor showed a frozen image of me sitting in the booth. She had changed the timestamp.
Why would a stranger risk arrest to protect me?
The officers stepped aside to make a call.
June leaned close.
“Elena Ruiz was my sister,” she whispered. “And your father didn’t start that fire seventeen years ago.”
“Who did?”
May you like
Her eyes shifted toward the officers.
“Your stepmother.”
