Chapter 7 — The Second Figure in the Fire

The hooded figure lifted his face.

Evan.

He looked directly into the camera for less than a second. Then he pulled the hood forward and disappeared down the hallway after my mother.

Across the coffee shop, nobody spoke.

Ortiz stopped the recording. “Mr. Cross, you told me you were at home when the fire started.”

Evan kept one hand on the counter. “I went by to get Mom. I remembered afterward.”

“You remembered afterward?” Rosa said.

Ortiz held up a hand. “Ms. Alvarez, please.”

Evan pointed at the tablet. “You can see me getting her out. Whatever she did, I stopped it.”

The video had shown him entering seven minutes after her. It had shown them leaving together. It had not shown what happened beyond the camera’s view.

Marianne stepped forward. “He did stop me. I started the fire. Evan had nothing to do with it.”

“You told me you waited until the staff left,” I said.

Her eyes moved toward me. “I did.”

“Luis was still inside at twelve eighteen. You entered at twelve forty-seven. Did you check the kitchen, or did you just watch the front door?”

“I watched.”

“You couldn’t see the kitchen from the street.”

Ortiz turned to Marianne. “We can discuss that privately.”

Evan pulled his phone from his pocket. “Are you arresting us in front of my customers?”

“I’m asking you to come with us for further questioning,” Ortiz said. “You may speak with an attorney.”

For a moment, I thought he would refuse. Then he looked around the room and saw the people watching him. He set his phone down and took off his apron as if he were simply ending a shift.

Marianne reached for his arm. “I’ll tell them what happened.”

“Don’t,” he said.

The word was sharp enough to make her withdraw her hand.

Paul Danner stood beside the door. “Before anyone leaves, I want the name of whoever has my deposit.”

Priya answered him. “Your attorney and I will review the payment records this afternoon.”

Evan laughed without humor. “You think showing a video fixes the sale? I didn’t sign Daniel’s name.”

“No,” Priya said. “Someone did.”

He looked at Marianne. So did everyone else.

I wanted to ask whether Natalie had helped. Ortiz was still beside her, and I could see Natalie trying to decide where to put her hands.

Ortiz took Evan and my mother toward the door. They were not in handcuffs. A few customers moved aside without being asked.

As Marianne passed me, she whispered, “I’ll make them leave you alone.”

I had heard some version of that promise all my life. She would speak to Evan. She would calm him down. She would fix the trouble that seemed to follow him into every room.

She had never noticed what her fixes cost me.

“Tell them the truth,” I said.

Her expression closed.

When they were gone, the noise returned in pieces: a coffee grinder starting, someone asking for a refund, the scrape of a chair. Evan’s employee stood behind the register, pale and uncertain. None of this was her fault.

“Can somebody take over for her?” Rosa asked.

A man in a Cross Street Coffee shirt came out of the back room. He nodded to the employee and took her place.

Natalie approached me.

“I told Ortiz about the conversations with your mother,” she said. “And about Evan asking if you still kept that spare key in the office.”

“When did he ask?”

“Thursday night.”

The night before the fire.

“You said he had only heard your mother mention the key.”

“I was scared you’d think I handed it to him.”

“Did you?”

“No. But I answered him. I told him I thought the key was still there.”

That was enough to make me feel sick. She had known why he was asking. Or she had chosen not to know.

“Why tell Ortiz now?”

Natalie glanced at the door. “Evan said your mother would only make a mess in the kitchen. He told me the restaurant would close for repairs and you’d finally have time to breathe.”

“What did you say?”

“I asked him not to do it.”

“And then?”

“I went home.”

I had spent days wondering which of her statements I could believe. This one sounded true because it made her look terrible.

“I didn’t go to you,” she said. “I should have.”

“You could have called Rosa. You could have called anyone.”

“I know.”

Priya stepped beside me before Natalie could say more. “Daniel, the buyer wants to talk. You don’t have to do it here.”

I followed her outside.

Danner stood beneath the awning with his attorney on speakerphone. They wanted confirmation that I had received none of the deposit. I gave it. Priya promised to send the documents supporting the disputed signature.

“I put nearly all my savings into that payment,” Danner said.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I didn’t know there was a sale.”

He studied my face. “I believe you.”

Inside, Natalie remained by the window. She was watching the street as if she expected Evan to come back and explain everything.

I went home instead.

In the afternoon, Ortiz called to ask about the spare key. It had been kept in a small safe in my office. The safe had survived the fire, but its contents were still being documented. I gave her its location and the names of the few people who knew the combination.

My mother was one of them. Natalie was another.

At six, Priya called with the first accounting Danner’s bank had provided. His deposit had gone into Cross Street Coffee LLC. Part of it had paid for equipment and renovations. The remainder had moved again.

“To where?” I asked.

“We’re requesting the records. We don’t have them yet.”

I looked at the photograph of my father on the dresser. He was standing on the crooked back steps of the Alder Street house, grinning into the sun.

Across the city, my mother was telling Ortiz she had acted alone. Evan was telling Ortiz he had gone into my restaurant to save her. Natalie had finally admitted she helped him find the key.

Their stories couldn’t all be true.

Before I could call Priya back, a message arrived from an unknown number.

It was a photograph of the house on Alder Street. Someone had taken it from across the road that evening.

Beneath it were five words.

Your mother promised me this.