Page 72 of To Bring You Back
Almost immediately on spotting the window, he motioned Adeline to proceed and turned his attention toward the alarms. No wonder they continued to sound; lingering smoke made her cough as she crossed the living room.
In her room, Adeline scrambled into blue jeans, pulled a sweatshirt over her tank, and jogged to the back door. The firetruck’s strobing lights reached the trees, but other than that, the night was still. She peered at the maze of fences, bushes, and trees that made up the center of the block, but nothing moved in her yard or her neighbors’.
“Bruce! Come here, boy!”
Nothing. She rounded the house.
Two more firefighters and a third man, this one in a police uniform, stood where the fire had burned.
“Adeline, what happened?” The lights of the emergency vehicles flashed over the officer’s creased forehead. Joe Cullen. Olivia’s dad. In other circumstances, it wouldn’t have taken her so long to recognize him.
“I don’t know. There weren’t any power tools or anything over here, so I don’t understand how it lit on fire. Or how a ladder went through the window.”
“Do either of you smoke?” A firefighter had crouched next to the sooty pile that had once been the yard waste bags.
“No.” She leaned to see the spot illuminated by the man’s flashlight. Four or five cigarettes, all in various stages of being smoked, lay in the grass. “I heard a noise out here earlier and saw someone crossing the yard. Did they do this?”
The firefighter straightened up with a shrug.
She pointed toward the photographer, who snapped photos from the sidewalk. “Even if he wasn’t involved, if he’s been watching, he may know something.”
Officer Cullen marched across the yard. The photographer retreated, but Joe stopped him before he’d made it more than a few steps. In the darkness, she couldn’t make out their expressions, and they stood too far off for her to hear.
She looked back to the ashes. She’d seen the ladder leaning on the center post between the windows earlier. It wouldn’t have gone through the glass on its own, would it? Adeline lifted a shaking hand to her forehead.
The firemen who had been inside rejoined the group.
“You’ll want to board up this window until you can get it replaced. The structure is sound, but the fire inspector and insurance adjuster need to go through before you start any clean up.” The man handed Adeline a card with the fire inspector’s information. The business card was white, small, and orderly in her hand, such a contrast to the mess of ash and emotion.
What was she supposed to do? Find Bruce and then go to sleep as if nothing happened? She needed help that firefighters, police officers, and even Tegan couldn’t give. She took out her phone and dialed Gannon, but the call went to voicemail. Maybe he silenced it overnight. She tried John.
“Hey.” John cleared his throat, his voice thick. “You know even rock stars sleep, right?”
She checked her phone screen. Two thirty. “I’m sorry. There was a fire at my house. It’s okay, but a window broke, and my dog ran away, and there’s a photographer here.”
“A fire?”
“Someone was smoking next to the house, by the yard waste bags.” Would she sound paranoid if she voiced her suspicion that the ladder had been pushed? Was she overreacting by calling him?
“You’re okay?”
“Yeah. Shaken up. It didn’t spread much.” But what if they’d been sixty seconds slower about getting the curtains outside? Whoever had done this could’ve burned down the house. And there was still the matter of Bruce, running through the neighborhood, terrified. “An officer is talking to the photographer to see if he knows anything. But what if he started it? Who would’ve been smoking next to the house?”
“I’m on my way.”
“I tried Gannon first. He didn’t answer.”
“I’ll wake him up. Be there soon.”
Adeline disconnected. Could the fire have been set on purpose? Paparazzi might want to drum up dramatic photographs and draw Gannon out. Or what if some fan had gotten jealous of Adeline’s supposed romance with Gannon?
Would anyone go to these lengths for a story or a celebrity crush?
Joe Cullen returned. “He said he’s staying at Ida’s B&B and saw the flames, but not how they started.”
The bed-and-breakfast was across the street and a couple of doors down. The fire would’ve been visible from some of the windows, so the photographer might have been telling the truth.
Officer Cullen scanned the mess. “Do you have supplies to board up this window?”
