Chapter 8 - The Fire Nobody Talked About
Fourteen years earlier, a fire had torn through the east wing of the workshop. It injured a night janitor and nearly bankrupt our business. Investigators called the cause undetermined. Dad used his retirement savings to rebuild, and I learned to work eighteen-hour days without complaining.
Nolan was a young contractor with failed deals. I remembered his offer to loan Dad money and Dad turning him down. I knew of no proof he started the fire.
Leah Park spread the ledger pages across her desk the next morning.
"The note isn't proof of arson," she said. "But it tells us Eleanor was worried, and it gives us a specific lead. We'll hand it to the investigators. Don't try to solve it yourself."
Dad sat beside me in a clean flannel shirt. His knee ached, but his voice was steadier.
"Eleanor found a payment from an insurance adjuster to Nolan's old company," he said. "She was afraid they'd made a deal. We never proved anything."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You were already carrying the company. Your mother didn't want to give you another burden without facts."
The title company had received a scanned power of attorney supposedly giving Simone control of Dad's land. Leah disputed it immediately, sent Dad's statement, and asked that the file be preserved. The closing agent paused the deal.
"Pause isn't cancel," she warned. "We have to establish the document's history."
Rosa arrived and gave the investigating officer her care logs. Every visit recorded Dad's orientation and independent decisions. On the day the disputed power of attorney was supposedly signed, Rosa's notes said Dad was resting after a medical appointment.
"And this is why I quit," she added, handing over a printed text.
It was from Simone: STOP WRITING THAT HE IS CAPABLE. WE NEED CONSISTENT NOTES.
Leah looked up. "This is significant."
Rosa gave a sad little smile. "That's what I told your wife."
As we were leaving, Dad tapped the envelope from Mom, which I'd brought unopened.
"Read it now," he said.
May you like
Inside was a single sheet of paper. Halfway down, I found a line that made me stop breathing.
Daniel, if you're reading this because someone has made your father feel small, you need to know what I did to protect the land from you, too.
