Page 107 of Unexpected Heroine

And there it is. Yes.

Without wasting another second, I swipe the box. Expediently, I return to the back door, place it on the floor, and then pick up the gas can. After unscrewing the cap, I splash fuel around the kitchen, living room, and down the hallways.

When I return to that windowless room, I pour a bit more than probably needed.

Seems justified, though, given what transpired in here.

Not that it matters if there’s evidence of the gasoline used as an accelerant. Since the house is abandoned, the fire investigators will assume arson from the get-go. And with no trees overhead, only a slight wind tonight, and a decent amount of space between houses, the risk of the fire jumping to a neighbor’s home is minimal. The only thing I need to do is ensure there’s nothing to tie me to it.

The patsy Lenkov has on the deed won’t be filing an insurance claim or pushing law enforcement to find the culprit. And the authorities have bigger problems to deal with than a former crack house turned trafficking prep facility burning down. In short, no one will give a fuck.

On the way out of the house, I grab the shoe box and pour gasoline behind me as I go. When I get far enough from the house, I’ll light the trail and watch it burn.

Keeping my head on a swivel, my retreat is as covert as my arrival. It’s doubtful anyone is looking since nobody gives a fuck around this neighborhood, which is why it was perfect for the depravity that occurred here. Plenty of other fucked up shit probably happens in the surrounding houses.

My feet grind to a halt at the edge of the property. I face the house and drop into a squat. After wrapping my hand around the lighter, I picture Lettie’s battered face and hear the sound of her sobs.

One last cleansing breath, and then I light the motherfucking gasoline stream.

My pulse spikes higher with each inch the flame crawls.

When it finally reaches the house and catches, it’s exactly as magnificent as I envisioned.

I only wish Lettie were here to see it.

She doesn’t want me to hurt anyone, but I believe she’d be okay with this. Maybe she’d even feel a twinge of satisfaction watching it turn to ash.

Yet the thought of her coming near this place again makes my veins ice over.

As the structure quickly becomes engulfed by flames, a wave of mixed emotions floods my system. Vindication blends with disgust. Anger with relief.

My entire body feels lighter.

Although nothing could burn away the atrocities, the remnants of their suffering are going up in smoke.

The echoes of their screams held in those walls.

Their blood stains on the floor.

Their tears embedded in the carpet.

Gone. Released into the night sky.

Once their physical wounds heal, all that remains will be scars that will fade over time but never disappear.

The heat from the fire causes the perspiration dotting my forehead to drip into my eyes. The sting catapults me back into action mode.

Before I go, I snap a few pictures of the inferno.

For Lettie.

After tossing the empty gasoline can toward the house, where it’ll burn with the rest of the structure, I tuck Savin’s box under my arm and head toward the rendezvous point. With each step, I lock the memories of the nightmare house deep in my psyche. In a box of their own.

It’s the closest I can get to incinerating them.

When I get into the car, Shep tosses a plastic shopping bag in my lap before quickly driving us out of the neighborhood.

As I fasten my seat belt, I ask, “What’s this?”

---