The detective exchanged a look with his partner.
Then he said,
“Emily, do you know what happened here ten years ago?”
I froze.
“The fire?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because Caleb told us something about it.”
My heart started pounding.
“What?”
The detective took a deep breath.
“Caleb was here the night of the fire.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“He was eleven.”
“No.”
“We have evidence.”
“Then why didn’t anyone know?”
The detective looked at Caleb’s father.
His father finally spoke.
“Because my son was terrified.”
His voice broke.
“He’s been terrified for ten years.”
I looked at Caleb’s mother.
“Where is he?”
“At the police station.”
“Is he under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then why isn’t he here?”
“Because he asked us to come without him.”
“Why?”
The detective reached into his folder.
He pulled out an old photograph.
He handed it to me.
I looked at it.
Three boys.
One was Caleb.
One was a boy I didn’t recognize.
And the third was Ryan Blake.
My neighbor.
The man everyone had called a hero.
My hands started shaking.
“What is this?”
“A photograph recovered from an old storage box.”
“When was it taken?”
“The day of the fire.”
