*We are in position. Stay in the vehicle.*

I looked down the street.

A dark sedan was parked near the corner, its headlights off.

Another unmarked SUV sat at the opposite end of the block.

The trap was set.

On the receiver, we heard the sound of liquid splashing.

It was a wet, heavy sloshing sound.

“What is that?” Wyatt asked.

“Kerosene,” I said.

“He keeps two cans in the garage for the heater.”

My mother’s voice came through again, sharp with terror.

“Richard, don’t pour it near the stairs.”

“Melanie is still upstairs.”

“Call her down!” he shouted.

“Melanie!” my mother screamed.

“Get down here now!”

We heard the hurried footsteps of my sister running down the stairs.

“What is that smell?” Melanie yelled.

“Why is there gas on the floor?”

“Grab your coat,” my father said.

“We are leaving.”

“But my clothes,” she cried.

“My jewelry.”

“Leave it!” he roared.

The sound of a match striking hissed through the receiver.

Then, a low, sudden *whoosh*.

Even from two blocks away, I saw the sudden orange glow illuminate the front windows of the house.