Page 87 of The Tomorrows After You
“Oh, yes.” Emery nodded assuredly. “The fire department arrived pretty quickly to extinguish it. Only the outside was burned beyond repair. Most of the inside was almost untouched.”
My insides buzzed.
“The fire started from the outside?” I tried to mask the rising flurry inside.
He nodded with a sad frown. “That’s how I know Riot didn’t have a devil in him.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”
“Picture it…you’vejuststabbedyour mother. If a person’s soulistruly evil, you burn the body first, give it one last indignity. If youhaveremorse in you — you burn the house from the outside, because you can’t stand to see what you did.”
Only Riot didn’t do anything.That fierce defensivenessgripped me. Over both of them.I’llnever say what Brennan didwasright, but hewasout of his mind with fear and Ifoundit understandable for a mind that brilliant to do what itthoughtithadto for self-preservation. Itooka breath to dispel my thoughts.
“Do they know where the firestarted?”
“I can’t recall, but I thinkI’vegota copy of the case records in the basement.I’mnotsupposedto share them but I don’t reckon it’ll do any harm now.You’rewelcome to take a peek.”Inoddedfervently. Heclickedsome buttons to move the chair to help him stand.
I followed him down the narrow stairs. A tick of anxious energy picked my heart up a beat, remembering how I was locked in the records room the last time I followed a man down into the basement. That reminded me.
“Did you know Grace before that?”
“Of course. Sweetheart, shewas.Helpedshape that church right up.”
“Wasshe in a relationship with Geoffrey Brown?”
He paused on the bottom step and attempted to turn to me over his shoulder. “Hm, I don’t see that being likely. I always thought Geoff was kind of a doofus.” I hid my smirk.
“Riot said he was hanging around a lot that summer before she died. Said they got into an argument. Something about stealing money?”
Now Emery turned to give me his full attention. He studied my features almost as if he were looking at the ghost of Grace Asher herself. The little color that was left in his face drained and he gazed down, to the side, remembering something.
“You know, she called me a few days before she died. Said she wanted to talk to me about something she thought she uncovered. I never got the chance to call her back.” His eyes turned down. “Poor woman. Your own boy…” He shook his head and continued deeper into the basement.
Emery fumbled with a string that made a free-swinging lightbulb come to life. There were dozens of boxes all labeled with different years and names.
“Not exactly the most secure filing system, is it?” I muttered.
“Therewasa big movement a few years back to digitize most of it. Theyplannedto shred and destroy the original copies. Isnaggeda few of the cases.Feltlike an insult to the dead to just burn all their stories, even if theywerebackedup in some kinda rain cloud or harsh drive.”
He raised his arms to a box labeled “Asher, Grace” but bent over in a coughing fit. It sounded like chunks of his lungs were dislodging in his throat.
“’Scuse me,”hesaidwith a hand to his mouth.“The drugs help with the inflammation, but the dust still kills me.”
I hurried to grab the box down before he attempted it again. An eager excitement sent a tingle over my skin. Inside were dozens of file folders. I flipped through until I found the fire marshal’s report. I scannedthe paper.
Origins of the firebeganin the back of the house.
Signs of accelerant detected.
Extreme damage to the back porch’s outer walls.
Riot thought one of his mother’s candles had been knocked over. My heart began to pick up, realizing just how many inconsistencies there were.
The next file that caught my eye was the official autopsy report.
Ipulledout the Xeroxed copy of the handwritten notes thatwerescribbledall over the official report page.
Readingthe official cause of death, a cold chillcreptup my body.
