Chương 6
“That’s why he pushed you away?”
“I think so.”
Claire shook her head slowly.
“He cared more about looking like a good father than actually being one.”
Evan did not argue.
That hurt more than if he had.
A few minutes later, Richard returned with his laptop.
He placed it on the table.
“I found the insurance login.”
Claire looked surprised.
“How?”
“I helped you set it up years ago.”
She remembered.
Barely.
A rainy afternoon after her husband died.
Richard sitting beside her at the kitchen table.
Making sure she had passwords saved.
Making sure bills were organized.
Making sure she understood what needed to be done.
The memory felt strange.
Like finding an old photograph of someone you thought you knew.
Richard opened the account.
They worked together quietly.
For a while, nobody discussed what happened on the porch.
Nobody apologized.
Nobody defended themselves.
They just searched.
That almost felt more emotional.
Because for once, they were doing something together.
After twenty minutes, Richard found a digital copy of the insurance policy.
Claire exhaled.
“Thank you.”
Richard nodded.
“You’re welcome.”
The words were simple.
Almost awkward.
Like neither of them had practiced saying them.
Patricia appeared in the doorway.
She watched the three of them at the table.
Her expression was unreadable.
Then she looked toward the stairs.
“Are the children sleeping?”
“Yes,” Claire said.
Patricia nodded.
“They look exhausted.”
Claire waited.
She wondered if there was more.
There was.
Patricia walked closer.
“I made some soup.”
Claire blinked.
“What?”
“In the kitchen.”
Patricia looked uncomfortable.
“I thought they might eat when they wake up.”
It was not an apology.
It did not erase anything.
But Claire saw the effort hidden beneath the awkwardness.
Some people were not good at saying they were sorry.
Some people had spent their whole lives avoiding those words.
She nodded.
“Thank you.”
Patricia looked away.
“You’re welcome.”
The afternoon light moved across the floor.
The house slowly returned to normal sounds.
The dishwasher started.
The washing machine turned.
The old clock in the hallway clicked with every second.
For the first time since the fire, Claire allowed herself to sit still.
Then her phone rang.
She looked at the number.
It was from the fire investigator.
Something in her stomach tightened.
She answered.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end was polite.
Careful.
“Ms. Bennett, I’m calling because we completed our initial review of the fire.”
Claire stood.
Everyone looked at her.
“Okay.”
There was a pause.
“We found something unusual.”
Her grip tightened around the phone.
“What do you mean?”
The investigator lowered his voice slightly.
“The fire does not appear to have started the way we first believed.”
Claire looked at the burned house through the window.
The smoke had finally started to thin.
“What are you saying?”
The answer came slowly.
“We need to speak with you in person.”
A cold feeling moved through her.
Not fear exactly.
Something worse.
The feeling that the night she thought had taken everything from her might not have been an accident.
The feeling that the night she thought had taken everything from her might not have been an accident.
Claire kept the phone against her ear for several seconds after the investigator stopped speaking.
The room around her continued moving, but it felt distant.
The dishwasher hummed.
The clock on the wall clicked.
Someone upstairs shifted across the floor.
All of those ordinary sounds seemed impossible beside the sentence she had just heard.
“What do you need from me?” she asked.
The investigator’s voice remained calm.
“We need to ask about the property, anyone who may have had access, and any recent concerns you had.”
Claire looked toward the window.
The burned house sat across the yard like a question nobody wanted to answer.
“I don’t understand.”
“We are not making any conclusions yet.”
That sentence did not comfort her.
People only said they were not making conclusions when there was something they could not ignore.
“Can you tell me what you found?”
There was a pause.
“I would rather discuss it in person.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Okay.”
“We can meet tomorrow morning.”
She agreed before she fully understood why.
After the call ended, nobody spoke.
Richard was the first to move.
“What did they say?”
Claire placed the phone on the table.
“They think the fire may not have started by accident.”
Patricia sat down slowly.
Evan stopped leaning against the wall.
Margaret’s expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Claire noticed.
“What?”
Margaret looked at her.
“What?”
“You reacted like you expected that.”
Margaret looked away.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
Claire stood.
“No.”
Margaret sighed.
“Claire.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Everyone keeps doing this.”
Richard frowned.
“Doing what?”
“Knowing things and deciding when I’m allowed to know them.”
Nobody answered.
Because nobody could deny it.
Claire looked at Margaret.
“What did you mean by that?”
Margaret folded her hands together.
“I did not expect the fire.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The older woman looked tired.
“I expected there were things your father had not told you.”
Richard’s face tightened.
“Mom.”
Claire turned toward him.
“What things?”
He looked at the floor.
That was enough.
The answer was already there.
“You knew.”
Richard rubbed his forehead.
“Not about the fire.”
“About what?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation hurt more than the words might have.
“Dad was worried before he died.”
Claire stared at him.
“Your father?”
Richard nodded.
“About what?”
Richard looked toward the kitchen.
Then back at her.
“The property.”
Claire felt confused.
“What does that mean?”
“The house.”
He struggled to explain.
“The land.”
Claire waited.
“My grandfather’s house?”
Richard nodded.
“It was never just the house.”
The words felt strange.
She looked through the window again.
The burned structure across the yard suddenly seemed different.
Not just a place where memories were lost.
A place where something had been happening beneath the surface.
“What are you not telling me?”
May you like
Richard sat down.
For the first time all morning, he looked less defensive and more defeated.
