Chapter 11 - THE FIRE
By the time Sarah reached the street, flames were pushing through the garage windows.
Firefighters dragged hoses across the lawn.
Neighbors stood in bathrobes and slippers.
So was the hidden envelope from the office.
“Evidence was supposed to be secured,” Sarah said.
“One deputy remained on scene.”
“Where is he?”
“Hospital. Somebody hit him from behind.”
Sarah turned toward Linda, who sat in the back of a patrol car.
“Who did you call?”
Linda stared through the glass.
“Who did you call?”
“You always were dramatic.”
Harris pulled Sarah away.
“Don’t give her anything she can use.”
A firefighter came out carrying a metal lockbox blackened by smoke.
“Found this under the workbench.”
Sarah had never seen it.
Harris opened it after photographing the seal.
Inside were old property records, cashier’s checks, and photocopies of driver’s licenses.
Names Sarah didn’t recognize.
At the bottom was a photograph of Jason, Paul, and Linda taken outside a psychiatric facility.
On the back, someone had written:
Sarah showed Jason later.
“That’s where she put him.”
“Where?”
“North Pines Behavioral Center.”
“Why didn’t you help him?”
“I was twenty-seven. Mom said he was dangerous.”
“And you believed her.”
“Yes.”
Sarah was beginning to understand the architecture of Linda’s power.
She recruited people into the lie, one small agreement at a time, until admitting the truth meant admitting what they had helped destroy.
Records sealed after a state investigation.
“Where did the patients go?” Sarah asked.
“Different facilities.”
“Paul?”
“No listing.”
Sarah’s phone buzzed.
An abandoned assisted-living complex north of Macon.
Harris said, “You are not going there.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
That was true for almost five minutes.
Then she received a photo.
A thin middle-aged man sat beside a barred window holding that day’s newspaper.
May you like
On the wall behind him, someone had written in black marker:
SARAH IS NEXT.
