Chapter 5

Charlotte called me that night from an unfamiliar number, insisting on meeting far away from Sean's station. We sat in a corner booth at a diner off Bay Street, rain sliding down the cracked front windows.

She pushed a folded bank statement across the laminate table. “Sean has been paying Drew’s debts,” she said, her voice strained. “Not with charity money. With his own salary. High-interest credit cards, personal loans, Micah’s pediatric hospital bills. He’s been quietly draining our savings ever since the fire.”

“Why?” My throat tightened. “Out of guilt?”

“Because he thinks he owes Drew everything.” Charlotte stirred her untouched coffee. “Drew came to our house the week before he died. He was terrified, Nora. He told Sean that Rawlings had figured out he was asking questions about the gear-skipping scam and was planning to make Drew the scapegoat. Drew wanted to expose him to the city, but he needed undeniable proof.”

“The ledger,” I said.

She nodded tightly. “Drew kept records of every falsified inspection. Sean begged him not to go to the warehouse that night, but Drew went anyway. He was meeting a photographer who claimed he had pictures of Rawlings near the warehouse with a fuel can.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Where are those pictures?”

“The photographer died last year. Car accident.” Charlotte’s voice flattened into a hollow whisper. “Sean swore it was just a coincidence, but the firehouse museum has an exhibit of photos from that night. There’s an uncropped print hanging behind the vintage engine. Rawlings is in the background, near the fence, holding a red container. Sean told me it was harmless.”

“It wasn’t.”

“No.” She looked at me with something like pity. “Sean spent two years trying to protect you from the truth, but he was also protecting himself. He couldn’t bear the shame of admitting he let his brother walk into that fire.”

I went home and woke Micah. When I asked if he had ever seen a photograph of Rawlings at the museum, he nodded sleepily. “At the ceremony. Behind the fire truck. He had a red can.”

The next morning, I walked to a pay phone and called the state fire marshal’s office. I left an anonymous message detailing the gear fraud and the photo. Then I told Tuck I needed a place to hide.