Chapter 13 - Home Again
By the time we got back to the house, every muscle in my body felt carved out and replaced with wire.
Ortiz posted an officer at the end of the street and another near the back gate. Rosa stayed with Emma in the family room while I stood in the kitchen staring through the glass doors.
The backyard looked exactly the same.
Green lawn. Bright sun. Cute little playhouse.
I hated the sight of it.
“This ends where it started,” Ortiz repeated, reading Claire’s text. “She means the house.”
“I know.”
My mother arrived ten minutes later in a silver sedan, face pale and eyes swollen. For one wild second I thought about slamming the door in her face.
Then I remembered Emma was watching.
Diane stepped inside and whispered, “I didn’t know she would do this.”
Ortiz turned toward her. “But you did alter the school pickup authorization.”
My mother began to cry. “Claire told me Ethan was unraveling and Emma was unsafe with him. She said she needed temporary access in case of an emergency.”
I just stared at her.
“You helped the woman who abused my daughter take her from school.”
Diane shook her head violently. “I thought I was helping hold the family together.”
“You helped tear it apart.”
Before she could answer, Rosa screamed from the family room.
We all ran.
Emma stood near the couch, pointing toward the backyard.
A white SUV had rolled halfway across the lawn and stopped near the playhouse.
Claire climbed out.
Her cream dress was smeared with dirt and ash. Her eyes looked bright and wrong.
In one hand she held a long barbecue lighter.
In the other, a bottle that was very clearly not water.
Gasoline.
“She wants the playhouse,” Ortiz said.
“No,” I said, already moving. “She wants the story.”
I shoved the sliding door open and ran into the yard.
Claire lifted the bottle.
May you like
“Don’t come any closer!” she screamed.
Then she splashed gasoline across the little blue steps where Emma used to sit and draw chalk flowers.
