Caleb’s parents.
I had seen them at football games, sitting in the best seats, clapping politely, never shouting like other parents. Richard and Vivian Turner. Everyone knew Richard owned Turner Development, the company building new luxury condos downtown. Everyone knew Vivian chaired charity boards and smelled like money.
This morning, Vivian’s face was white.
Richard’s was hard.
One officer looked directly at me.
“Miss Whitaker?”
My mother stepped in front of me.
“What is this about?”
The officer removed his hat.
“I’m Officer Daniel Hale. This is Fire Marshal Briggs. We need to ask your daughter some questions about Caleb Turner.”
My stomach dropped.
“Caleb?” I stepped around my mother. “Did something happen?”
Vivian made a small sound.
Richard put one hand on her shoulder, but his gaze stayed on the officers.
Officer Hale exchanged a glance with the fire marshal.
Then he said quietly, “Our department recently reopened several old cases connected to the fire at your home nearly ten years ago.”
The world went still.
My mother gripped the doorframe.
“What?” she whispered.
Fire Marshal Briggs looked at me with a gentleness that made me want to run.
“Caleb was there the night your house burned down,” he said. “And there’s something you need to hear.”
