Chapter 3 - JAMES’S LAST MESSAGE
The fire destroyed the second floor and most of the roof.
The front room survived.
So did part of the basement.
At three in the morning, Amelia sat in Mrs. Delgado’s kitchen wearing borrowed clothes.
Her phone showed twenty-six missed calls.
Claire.
Her mother.
Ben.
Two cousins.
People who had not come to the airport now wanted to know whether she was alive.
Amelia answered none of them.
Captain Bell arrived with Detective Lucas Reed from Portland Police.
They asked permission to speak.
Amelia nodded.
Detective Reed placed a clear evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a small black device.
“We found this behind the electrical panel.”
“What is it?”
“A remote relay.”
Captain Bell answered.
“It can interrupt or overload a circuit.”
“Could it start a fire?”
“Yes.”
Amelia stared.
“So this was intentional?”
“We’re not ready to make that conclusion,” Reed said. “But the device should not be there.”
He asked who had access to the home.
Amelia listed Claire, Evelyn, Ben, and the housekeeper who came twice a month.
James had recently changed the alarm code.
“Why?” Reed asked.
“He said someone entered his office.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“What was taken?”
“He said nothing.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At the time.”
Reed asked for James’s phone records.
Amelia’s face tightened.
“His phone disappeared after the accident.”
“Was it recovered from the vehicle?”
“No.”
“Who handled the accident investigation?”
“Local police in Ireland.”
“Did anyone from his family identify the body?”
“I did.”
The memory returned with clinical precision.
A white room.
A sheet.
James’s face bruised on one side.
A hospital employee asking whether she was certain.
She had touched his hand.
Cold.
Real.
Dead.
The detective’s questions did not change that.
But they changed what might have come before.
After they left, Amelia opened her voicemail.
Most messages were from family.
Then she noticed one saved message from James.
Dated four days before his death.
She had listened to it once while rushing to a meeting.
Now she played it again.
“Hey, Ames. I know you’re angry. I’m sorry. Something here is more complicated than Dad’s estate. Claire called me about the house, which was strange. Don’t sign anything while I’m gone. And check the cedar panel behind my desk if I don’t make it back by Friday.”
His voice went quiet.
“I love you.”
The message ended.
Amelia played it again.
Claire called James.
About the house.
Amelia had never been told.
At sunrise, she returned to the property with Detective Reed.
The basement smelled of smoke and water.
James’s office sat beneath the least damaged section.
The desk had been overturned by firefighters.
Behind it was cedar wall paneling.
One narrow board moved when Reed pressed it.
Inside the cavity was a waterproof envelope.
James had written Amelia’s name across the front.
The envelope contained:
A key.
A memory card.
A copy of their house deed.
And a handwritten note.
If anything happens to me, do not let Claire access the Hawthorne account.
May you like
Amelia stared at the name.
She had never heard of the Hawthorne account.
