Chapter 3 - The Door Slams
Sarah knocked once before opening Ethan's door. His room glowed blue from a paused video game. Birthday gifts sat unopened by the closet, and his phone lay facedown on the desk.
"Who is texting you?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"You just said you did what they told you."
"You heard wrong."
For a moment, his anger cracked. Beneath it was fear, raw and exhausted. Then he looked away.
"You can't fix everything, Mom."
"I know. But I can help you face it."
"You couldn't even tell the truth about Dad."
The words struck harder than a shout. "What do you think I lied about?"
His eyes flicked toward the phone. "Forget it."
He pushed past her, ran downstairs, and went out the back door. Sarah followed him onto the porch, but he was already cutting across the yard.
"Ethan! It's dark!"
"Maybe you should've thought about that before you lied to me!"
He vanished around the corner. His phone went straight to voicemail. His best friend hadn't seen him, and neither had the parents Sarah called.
Inside, Lily sat curled on the couch. "Is Ethan leaving because of me?"
"No, baby. He's dealing with something he doesn't know how to talk about. But he still has to be safe, and he still has to be kind."
After putting Lily to bed, Sarah checked the windows and returned to the living room. Under the table lay Ethan's birthday card from his late father, the one he kept though the ink had faded. Beside it was a folded scrap of paper she had never seen before.
Three words were printed on the back:
THE FIRE WASN'T AN ACCIDENT.
May you like
At the bottom was a time and place: Friday, 8:00 p.m. — the old firehouse. Come alone.
Sarah gripped the paper until its edges bent. Whoever was contacting Ethan knew about the fire—and knew exactly where she had tried to bury the truth.
