Chapter 11 - The Children Upstairs

Ruth didn't answer when Park called. Her apartment door was unlocked, and the kettle was still warm. The bakery owner had seen her leave through the back carrying a blue canvas bag. Before panic could take hold, Park received a message from an attorney who represented former Alder House residents. Ruth was safe at his office. She had gone there because a black sedan had followed her bus.

I was allowed to speak with her on a secure call.

“The third floor was a respite wing,” Ruth explained. “Three teenagers lived there temporarily while their families looked for stable housing. Alma billed the county for medical supervision we didn't provide.”

“Why would my father hide that?”

“He didn't. He argued to shut the program down. The records were supposed to be reviewed the week of the fire.”

Ruth paused. “One of the teenagers was Grace Bell, June's younger sister. She saw Alma and Kyle near the rear stairwell after the evening meal.”

“Where is Grace now?”

“She's twenty-one. She's willing to speak if someone can protect her from the way this family protects itself.”

I wanted to protest that I wasn't Alma. Then I remembered how many times I'd taken Alma's side without asking a second question.

Park brought Grace to a recorded interview later that day. I wasn't in the room, but Grace agreed to tell me one thing afterward. She had her sister's eyes, dark and watchful.

“June got all three of us down the front stairs,” Grace said. “She went back because Mr. Pritchard couldn't walk on his own. We heard him calling.”

I knew Mr. Pritchard. He used to tell me terrible jokes when I visited Dad after school. He survived with smoke injuries. June never came out.

Grace rubbed her hands together. “I saw Kyle close the side door. He put the chain through the bars. Your mother was standing right there. She didn't tell him to stop.”

“Would you say that to a jury?” I asked.

“Someone should've listened six years ago.”

She left before I could apologize on behalf of people I couldn't speak for.

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Park then showed me a still image recovered from a street camera near Ruth's building. The black sedan's driver was Dana Vale, the woman from the hospital. The passenger was Kyle Mercer.

But what caught my attention was the object Kyle held between his knees: my father's old brown leather medical bag.