Chapter 4 - The Fire That Never Went Out
Bennett did not ask whether she was being dramatic.
He called Dominic.
Twenty minutes later, Evelyn sat in a quiet interview room with Dominic, Bennett, and a detective named Elena Ruiz.
She repeated Mercer’s question exactly.
No interpretation.
No additions.
Ruiz wrote it down.
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Mercer is suspended immediately.”
Ruiz looked up.
“And he’ll know why.”
“He’ll know he failed.”
“He’ll also know you suspect him. Let us handle the interview before you start a private war.”
Evelyn watched Dominic struggle with the instruction.
Then he nodded.
It was the first time she saw him choose restraint when anger offered something easier.
Bennett drove her to a hotel using his own reservation.
Evelyn disliked needing it.
She disliked more that she was relieved.
At six the next morning, Rosa called.
“Evie. Don’t panic.”
Evelyn sat up.
Those were never useful opening words.
Parker Optical’s front window had been smashed.
The door stood open.
Police were already there because the bakery’s early delivery driver had noticed glass across the sidewalk.
Evelyn arrived wearing yesterday’s dress beneath a borrowed sweatshirt.
Her shop looked as if somebody had searched it with a shovel.
Drawers overturned.
Customer files scattered.
Her father’s photograph facedown beneath broken glass.
She picked it up with her uninjured hand.
Dominic stopped in the doorway behind her.
“I’ll pay for everything.”
She turned.
“That’s not what I need right now.”
He went silent.
“Then tell me.”
“Someone who can board the window. Someone who understands these records are private. And five minutes where I don’t have to decide whether I’m angry or frightened.”
He nodded.
“Bennett can arrange the window.”
“And you?”
“I can stand outside for five minutes.”
He did.
That nearly broke her more than the damage.
The police photographed the shop.
Nothing valuable had been taken.
The lens equipment remained.
The cash drawer still contained eighty-seven dollars.
But the back cabinet holding her father’s old papers had been emptied.
That afternoon, Ruiz called.
“Did your father keep property records?”
“He kept everything. Receipts from restaurants that closed before I graduated high school.”
“Anything connected to a building on Ashland?”
Evelyn gripped the phone.
“The building where he died.”
A silence followed.
Then Ruiz said, “We found your business address written on a card in the attacker’s possession.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
For eleven days, she had believed she had stumbled into Dominic’s danger.
Now it seemed the danger had been looking for her first.
She remembered something then.
Her father’s emergency tin.
He had kept it beneath the bottom shelf in the repair room, where an old radiator had left a gap behind the baseboard.
As a teenager, she had mocked the hiding place.
He had told her burglars were welcome to his tax returns but not her baby pictures.
The tin was still there.
Inside lay photographs, her mother’s wedding ring, and a small brass key taped to an envelope.
On the front, in her father’s handwriting:
EVIE—IF ANYONE ASKS ABOUT ASHLAND, CALL THE PERSON INSIDE BEFORE YOU ANSWER.
She sat on the floor.
For a moment, the damaged shop fell away.
Her father was alive again in the shape of those uneven letters.
Inside the envelope was a business card.
MARA REED, ATTORNEY.
A note on the back read:
She has copies. You do not owe anyone silence.
Dominic stood near the doorway when she looked up.
He had seen the street name.
She could tell.
“What do you know?” she asked.
His face had gone pale beneath its usual composure.
“Evelyn—”
“No.”
Her voice came out quiet.
She had always thought shouting was what happened when a person reached the end of patience.
Now she knew silence could be colder.
“What do you know about the building where my father died?”
Dominic looked toward Bennett.
Bennett did not move.
Finally, Dominic said, “A company connected to my family bought it before the fire.”
The tin slipped against her knee.
“How long have you known?”
“Since you told me how he died.”
“Friday?”
“Yes.”
“And you invited me to dinner.”
“I was trying to find out what happened.”
“Without telling me I was already part of it?”
He had no answer that could change the facts.
Evelyn stood.
Her stitches pulled painfully.
“Leave.”
“Your shop isn’t secure.”
“Then wait outside. Call the police. Do something useful that doesn’t require me to trust you.”
He stepped back.
After he left, Evelyn called the number on the card.
A woman answered on the third ring.
“My name is Evelyn Parker,” she said. “I think my father left something with you.”
The woman inhaled sharply.
“I wondered when you’d call.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“Your father’s instructions were specific. I was to keep the material confidential unless you asked, he authorized release, or a court required it. After his death, I tried twice to reach you about his estate papers. Both letters came back.”
Evelyn looked at the ruined cabinet.
“Someone has been looking for them.”
“Then come to my office,” Mara said. “And Evelyn?”
May you like
“Yes?”
“Come with someone you choose yourself.”
