The Truth About the Fire That Scarred My Body and Exposed My Family
I didn’t care.
I opened the trunk of my car and placed the suitcase inside.
Just as I went to close the trunk, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out.
It was an unknown number.
I hesitated, then swiped the screen.
“Maya Vance?” a voice asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“This is Detective Miller. We’ve just opened your father’s private safe at the office.”
My grip on the phone tightened.
“Did you find the rest of the records?” I asked.
“We found the records,” the detective said, his voice dropping to a lower, quieter register.
“But we also found something else.”
The wind rustled the trees above me, casting moving shadows across my car.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“There is a second insurance policy,” the detective said.
I waited, my breath caught in my throat.
“It was taken out on the house,” he continued. “Two weeks before the fire.”
“And?”
“The beneficiary wasn’t your mother or your father,” he said.
I looked back at the house, at Chloe still standing on the porch under the yellow light.
“Who was it?” I asked.