There was nothing there but a stranger who had tried to erase my family from its own home.

“Get him to the car, Vance,” Sheriff Miller ordered.

Vance dragged Mark down the stone steps of the porch.

Mark’s shoes scraped loudly against the gravel.

“You’re making a mistake!” Mark shouted back at the house. “I built this place back up! You were nothing without me!”

His voice faded as the heavy metal door of the patrol car slammed shut.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the drip of water from the ceiling where the sprinkler system had briefly activated.

Inside the library, the smoke was clearing, leaving a gray haze that hung three feet off the floor.

Deputy Carter came out, his face covered in soot and white extinguisher powder.

“It’s safe,” Carter said, wiping his brow with his forearm. “But the rug is ruined, and some of the books near the desk are scorched.”

I felt a sharp pain in my throat.

“My mother’s desk?” I asked.

“The desk is fine, ma’am,” Carter said. “Just some soot on the drawers.”