Chapter 2 - THE FIRE
Amelia stood too quickly and nearly fell.
The smoke alarm began screaming.
She grabbed her phone and moved toward the front door, but the hallway light flashed orange.
Flames climbed behind the wall near the staircase.
The fire spread unnaturally fast.
She pulled the door open and stumbled into the rain.
A neighbor across the street shouted her name.
“Amelia!”
Mrs. Delgado ran from her porch in slippers and a raincoat.
Behind her, two other neighbors emerged.
Amelia turned back toward the house.
“The suitcases.”
Mrs. Delgado caught her arm.
“No.”
“James’s things are inside.”
“The fire department is coming.”
A second-floor window cracked.
Flames rolled through the curtains.
Amelia stood barefoot in the driveway, clutching James’s jacket, while smoke poured from the roof.
Sirens rose in the distance.
Three engines arrived within minutes.
Firefighters pulled hoses across the lawn.
A paramedic wrapped Amelia in a gray blanket and checked her breathing.
She answered questions automatically.
Was anyone inside?
No.
Any pets?
No.
Gas appliances?
Yes.
Recent electrical problems?
No.
The reporter arrived before the second ambulance.
Local television stations monitored overnight emergency dispatches.
A camera crew set up beneath a black umbrella near the end of the street.
The reporter spoke into the lens.
“Firefighters are battling a rapidly growing residential blaze in northeast Portland tonight. The homeowner returned from burying her husband overseas only hours before the fire began.”
Amelia heard the sentence through the rain.
It sounded like someone else’s tragedy.
Across town, Claire, her husband Ben, and Amelia’s mother, Evelyn Hart, sat in Claire’s living room watching television.
Claire froze when Amelia’s house appeared behind the reporter.
Evelyn stood.
“No.”
Ben leaned toward the screen.
The camera showed Amelia wrapped in a blanket, James’s jacket pressed against her chest.
Claire covered her mouth.
“She was home?”
Evelyn turned toward her.
“You told me her flight was tomorrow.”
Claire did not answer.
The reporter continued.
“Neighbors say Amelia Hart arrived alone shortly before the blaze. Investigators have not yet determined the cause.”
Evelyn reached for her phone.
Claire grabbed her wrist.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
Claire’s face had gone pale.
Ben looked between them.
“What is going on?”
Then the television showed a firefighter carrying one of the black suitcases from the house.
The tape Marcus had wrapped around it had melted.
The suitcase was charred but intact.
Claire whispered, “That wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Ben heard her.
“What wasn’t supposed to be there?”
She looked at him.
Nothing in the room moved except the fire on the television.
At the house, Fire Captain Nora Bell approached Amelia.
“We have the main fire controlled.”
“Can I go inside?”
“No.”
“My husband’s belongings—”
“We recovered two suitcases near the entry. Some contents may be damaged.”
Amelia closed her eyes.
Captain Bell continued.
“I need to ask about the electrical panel.”
“What about it?”
“Was anyone working in the house while you were away?”
“My family had keys.”
“Anyone else?”
“A contractor. Maybe.”
“Name?”
Amelia thought of the last messages James sent before his trip.
He had mentioned replacing wiring in the basement office.
He said the electrician found something strange.
At the time, Amelia barely listened.
James was leaving for Ireland to settle his late father’s estate.
She was angry he would miss their anniversary.
Now every ordinary conversation felt like evidence she had failed to understand.
“My sister arranged the contractor,” Amelia said.
Captain Bell wrote it down.
“Do you know why?”
“She said the house needed an inspection.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“You were both away?”
“James was overseas. I joined him after he died.”
Captain Bell looked up.
“How did your husband die?”
Amelia swallowed.
“Car accident.”
The captain paused.
“Was that confirmed?”
May you like
“Yes.”
But the answer no longer felt certain.
